Chapter 210: The Mick
*With the blessings of the Coven of Light, we will handle this little… problem. – Michael O’Flaherty*
There was a soft knock on the door. Knuckles kissed the hair of his sleeping wife before slipping out of bed and going to the door. Cracking the door open, he saw Brody standing in the hallway.
“The Mick and Don will be here in about twenty minutes. They are bringing the Russian oligarch.” Brody said and Knuckles nodded. “The Mick wants to speak with her.”
“I’ll wake her up.” Knuckles said turning to go back into the room.
“Take care of her.”
“I plan to.” He said softly as he re-entered their room. The bed was empty and panic rushed through him until he heard water running in the bathroom.
Opening the door, he saw that she had stripped off her clothes and pinned her hair up above her head. The shower was turned on and she glanced over her shoulder, smiling an invitation at him. He quickly pulled off his own clothes and stepped in behind her.
“I need your strength.” Nessie whispered as she turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Anything of mine is yours.” He replied pushing her against the wall. Lifting her legs up around his waist, he probed at her entrance before slowly sinking into her. “You. And only you.”
Smiling at her husband, she captured his mouth as he began to slide in and out of her. Nessie fisted her hands in his hair as he braced his arms on either side of her head on the tiled wall.
Knuckles released her mouth as she arched her body to him and screamed out her orgasm. Burying his face in her neck, he also found his release inside her.
It was a little later than he had planned when he and Nessie stepped off the stairs onto the first floor. The three mafia leaders were standing with the club officers from all three local chartes in the unusually quiet main room. The Mick looked over at them and smiled.
“Blessings.” He was around fifty years old with a light dusting of gray in his dark red hair. Laugh lines crinkled his clean shaved face that was beginning to show his age. The tailored gray suit fit his slim body and the bright blue tie against the bright white shirt matched his eyes. His polished shoes were a contrast to the scuffed boots most of the men wore around the clubhouse.
“Blessings, me friend.” She smiled taking his hand. “Listen to yer wife. She is wise and she worries as all wives do.”
“I will.” He kissed her cheek, releasing her hand. Nessie smiled at him as she pulled her hand back. She wore what Knuckles called her witch outfit. A simple white shift dress and her tartan cloak and no shoes.
Stepping towards the Don, she offered her cheek and he kissed it. She took the hands of the gray haired man and looked deep into the cold brown eyes. He wore an expensive tailored black three piece suit with a dark gray tie and starched white shirt.
“Yeh are worried about someone close to yeh. Listen. They will tell yeh what they need.”
He nodded and wondered how she knew what he had been worried about. The Don had seen enough to know better than to question her.
The dark blonde man standing between them eyed her with cold blue eyes much like his son’s. He was the only one that had a beard, it was short and well trimmed. He wore dark slacks and a light blue long-sleeved Oxford shirt. It was open at the neck with tattoos peeking out.
Nessie did not offer him her cheek or her hand. Instead, she turned and looked at Toad.
“I need to speak with him.”
“I’ll have Dom bring him up.” Spider said.
“Outside.” She said linking her hand with Knuckles and they began to walk towards the door.
“You dare disrespect me?” the oligarch growled in a thick Russian accent.
Nessie turned and faced him with bright blue eyes. “Yeh want respect from me? Respect is only given when earned, not demanded.” She walked to stand in front of him as his jaw and fists clinched. “Go ahead.” She whispered menacingly. “Yeh now know what I am. Yeh know yer fate if yeh touch me. The same fate yer son will face.”
He grumbled something in Russian and she laughed.
“Pity? Yeh want me to give him pity? Where was the pity when he would force himself on me? Or beat me? Use me skin as his personal cutting board?” She demanded angrily. “Where was the pity for the girls that he raped? The girls he killed? No. There will be no pity from the likes of me.”
“But you’re not the kind to take revenge.” The Russian countered.
“No. I’m not. I am a Sister of Light. I will not step into the Dark.” A slow smile spread across her face. “But I can exile him from the light. And me husband, he lives in the dark.”
The men watched the Russian as he paled and fear villed his face. Thinking no more of him, Nessie turned back to Knuckles and they walked outside. With her barefeet on the cool grass, she tipped her face up to the sky. Calming peace filled her and she relaxed as she stood in the light.
