Louie showed up soon after that to take Dean away to go over what his new position entailed. The following day, I found Dean standing outside my room looking like one of Stefan’s personal goons dressed in an all-black suit. Gone were his cargo pants and steel-toed boots. He reluctantly got into the routine of watching over me and making sure I didn’t starve only after I told him that keeping me alive included feeding me.
Poor Jamie got neglected over the next couple of days. The first night he came to my room, it was late at night. The way he had reacted after seeing I was still up working and not alone had me biting my cheek to hold back from laughing. He didn’t even question what we were doing or why Vincent was there. Obviously, Stefan had told him. Instead, he looked from Vincent to me and grumbled, “It’s time for bed.” Then he pulled out his gun from the waistband of his pants, making sure Vincent got a good look at it, before placing it under his pillow in my bed.
Vincent took that as his cue to leave, scooped up his laptop, and scurried to his temporary room I had assigned him across the hall.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked. Jamie hadn't needed to intimidate the poor kid to get him to leave.
“It’s late,” he said curtly. Someone’s in a mood. He wasn’t even looking at me. He was focused on unbuttoning his shirt.
I was about to ask him what was wrong, but he took his shirt off. My attention was pulled to his naked chest and my mind seemed to short circuit because I’d forgotten what we were talking about.
My gaze roamed slowly as I took him in, inch by chiseled, tattooed inch. Man, he’s beautiful. Even with the two nasty scars that marred his velvety skin. I had noticed them in the shower yesterday while I'd washed him. As my soapy fingers had run over the jagged skin, I'd asked him, “Are they dead?” It was obvious they'd been inflicted by someone else, with the intent to kill. It had angered me—I'd felt downright murderous. I'd wanted to hunt down whoever had hurt him and make them suffer. I would take my time with them, drag it out, until their voices became so hoarse from begging for death and then, and only then, would I kill them.
The bigger of the two started on his side just below the ribs and curled around down to the top of the V shape at his hips. It was long, like someone had tried to slice him open. His other scar was smaller, maybe three inches long, and located just under his right collar bone.
As water had spilled down our bodies, he'd run his hands down my back, soothing my rage, and replied, “Yes.” Good.
He must have gotten the scars within the last six years. I’d seen him shirtless many times before I'd left to attend Trinity in Hartford, be it while swimming, working out, or playing sports, and I wasn’t ashamed to say I'd looked. It would've been impossible not to. He’d always been good looking. He'd been a lot leaner back then. Someone had definitely hit the gym while I'd been away. Maybe his scars were the reason for his drool worthy transformation.
Catching me staring, his irritation faded away and he gave me a cocky little smirk. I rolled my eyes at him because if his ego got any bigger, I’d be pushed out of the room.
I turned away and returned to my research. I felt him move through the room and come up behind me. It was crazy how in tune my body was with his. I'd never felt this with Tom. Maybe it was Jamie’s magical tongue? He'd reprogrammed me to be in sync with him while he'd been down in Lady Town. I wasn’t complaining, but it would explain why he'd driven me to madness with how many times he'd teased me, only to give me the most intense and earth-shattering orgasm I’ve ever had.
Great, now I’m turned on just remembering it.
I cleared my throat and adjusted how I was sitting, trying anything to bring down my lady boner. I was sitting on the floor with my arms resting on the coffee table with my laptop open in front of me.
He took a seat in the armchair behind me, positioning his legs at my sides, cocooning me from behind while trapping me between him and the table. His fingers brushed my hair away from my neck before his lips pressed where my neck met my shoulder, causing a shiver to rock through my body. “You look flushed,” he teased and began kissing up along my neck.
“You make me that way,” I mumbled and gasped when he bit down hard on my sensitive spot. “Are you trying to brand me?” I groaned from the mixture of pain and pleasure.
The next thing I knew, hands slid under my arms and I was being lifted. He shifted me to sit sideways across his lap, with his arm around my back for support and my legs dangling over the arm of the chair. His free hand went to my neck and his thumb rubbed over the spot he'd just marred. “I’m just marking what’s mine.” I sucked in a breath. His eyes traveled to mine, showing me he meant it.
“Are you mine?” I asked, barely breathing.
His hand moved up to cup my cheek and his thumb brushed over my lips, pulling them apart slightly. “What do you think?”
He kissed the hell out of me by nipping and sucking at my lips. He’d successfully turned me into a wanton mess. Running my fingers through his hair, I gave it a light tug in order to break away from him.
“You’re being mean. Lady Town is out of order for a few more days.”
He chuckled. “Then get your ass in bed. You need sleep and I need sleep. This shit will still be here tomorrow.”
I gave in. “Fine.” I squealed when he got up with me in his arms and carried me to bed.
That became our routine for the next three nights. Vincent and I would research all day and Jamie would come in late at night to make us stop.
It took some time to get Vincent to open up. It was literally like pulling teeth, but by day two things got a little easier. He was incredibly smart, especially for someone at the young age of nineteen. His parents had died in a car crash when he'd been a kid and we kind of bonded over it because my mother had passed the same way. He'd lived with his grandma until cancer took her life when he'd been sixteen. Refusing to go into foster care, he'd run away, making money by hacking for anyone who would hire him. Or if he was in a pinch, he’d illegally wire money into his account. Which was how he'd come to work for Stefan a little over a year ago. Vincent had wired money from one of Stefan’s accounts and it hadn't gone unnoticed. Stefan had found Vincent and instead of killing him, he'd offered him a job.
The poor kid had been through some major losses in his lifetime. No wonder he didn’t like to leave his home, which I most definitely asked about. Turned out, he lived past the border in De Luca territory. There wasn’t anything wrong with his home, just its location.
After three long days, my brain was ready to explode from everything I'd learned. The upside, we got a lead.
We'd begun our research by tearing through the books and electronic records on the flash drive. The books were the financial records of what we put out and brought in from selling cocaine and the ledgers were all dated back during my grandfather’s time as boss. The flash drive was the same thing, but dated from when Stefan had taken over.
We received the cocaine from a supplier in Columbia. We paid fifteen thousand per kilo to the Columbians, then turned around and sold it for forty thousand per kilo here in the States. After paying our courier slash smugglers to get the drugs from Columbia to here, the family profited twenty grand per kilo.