The Mobster's Whore Ch. 03

"Her name is Avery Victoria Callaghan. She was born to a Marissa Smyth and a Richard Callaghan in ninety-nine, Bakersfield. Both parents apparently died this past April, nearly seven months ago. Prior to that, though, she had an exemplary record, and participated in all kinds of extracurricular activities."

Hunter turns to me with a raised brow, but I don't bother to look at him because I know exactly what he's thinking.

"Continue."

He sighs, turns his gaze back to the tablet in his hands.

"She moved here two months after graduating, top of her class. She sort of went off the grid for almost a year, I'm assuming learning whatever tricks she has up her sleeve right now.

"According to the banking information she gave Mona, she managed to get some kind of scholarship, because there were sizable amounts paid into her account every three months. They stopped entirely exactly six months ago, to the date."

I keep my eyes on the rearview mirror, where I can see the reflection of a navy blue sedan that's been following us for the past eight blocks. It wouldn't have been a big deal, if the car hadn't taken a turn onto the highway when we did.

"Inheritance?" I ask.

Hunter shakes his head. "Each parent had one, both well over two million dollars. It doesn't make sense that she's your whore. No offense."

That catches my attention. I tear my gaze away from the car following us to look at the tablet Hunter is holding out for me.

"This makes absolutely no sense at all."

"Yeah, it doesn't. Which is why I went ahead and did a lot more digging," he says, swiping right on the screen.

It was a Facebook account, maybe created a decade ago. The name read 'Avery Victoria Callaghan', but the profile picture was of an adolescent Caucasian girl. I'm guessing this is what the real Avery must have looked like before she died in an accident with her parents exactly six months ago.

"I know. You're thinking, 'Plenty of women have this exact name. That's not a red flag.' What is alarming, though, are the identical social security numbers, the house they grew up in, their age, their entire childhood. It's just unheard of, Aldine. One of these girls stole her identity from the other, and since the other woman is dead, I'm going to bet that your little whore is an identity thief."

I glance at Hunter, who gives me a pointed look before turning his attention to the car behind us.

Well, fuck me.

"We still have those cameras in the apartments, right?"

Hunter nods. "Oh, yeah. Already ahead of you on that. I've been watching her since this morning."

I gesture for him to pass me the feed, and in no time I'm watching her while she sits at her desk, reading over the same paragraph over and over from one of her textbooks. I am pissed, and I seethe silently at the look of adorable innocence on that lovely face.

"Watch her closely. I want to know exactly what she's doing, when, where and why. Most importantly, with whom. If she steps even slightly out of line, notify me immediately."

Hunter nods, and we both look up as my driver, Mike, makes a sudden turn off the highway as planned.

Several cars honk after us, but they all stop short of hitting us as we successfully manoeuvre our way off the highway.

"Thank you, Mike."

"Always a pleasure, sir."

____________________________________

I am buried in my books, glasses perched almost loosely on the bridge of my nose as my finger ran from margin to margin while I read through the paragraph for what felt like the seven hundredth time that day.

I blink when the words start to blur, shake my head gently and start at the top one more time.

Focus, Avery. Focus.

But it's no use.

I sigh, finally removing the glasses from my nose and tossing them on the open book in front of me.

I get up to pour some water in the kettle and set it to boil, then go about making myself a cup of lemongrass tea. A strong enough brew usually helped calm my thoughts, just enough for me to focus on what I needed to do.

The absolute last thing I needed was to let myself think of Mr. Aldine and his cock.

My mind is suddenly filled with images of last night. Me, on my knees, taking his swollen cock into my throat while I gagged and choked around it. Mr. Aldine's fingers working me into a frenzy, pumping into me until I gushed all over his palm. How my walls had stretched to accommodate the broad head, then the length of that mammoth piece of flesh between his legs.

I'd had these exact same thoughts about a dozen times since I woke up this morning, feeling sore and exhausted.

Getting up to go to the bathroom had been a chore of its own and I'd given up the idea of going to class when I saw the bruises on my skin.

There were dark, angry marks on my neck, my shoulders, my collarbone and breasts. My hips and ass were the worst, with hand prints so dark and deep it looked like I'd been brutally beaten.

I'd known the second I saw them that Mona wouldn't let me anywhere near my clients if I looked like this.

Goddamn it.

It would take weeks for any of these to heal properly. Which he probably knew, and was definitely relishing the thought, that bastard.

But I didn't mind, honestly.

It would be nice to take a break from all the men who lusted after me, who paid insane amounts of money for the pleasure of lying between my thighs.

My only concern at this point was Mr. Aldine himself. It was obvious, even to a sea creature living under a rock, that the man was bad news.

He was being investigated by the feds for a list of crimes so long it made men like Al Capone look like angels, with murder and smuggling ranking very high.

He was dangerous, and it was always best to avoid bringing attention to yourself with men like that. I should know better, given the internal scars that remained from my experience.

I had no idea who Mr. Aldine actually was, and to look him up on the usual search engines would only pull up information I already knew.

An idea began to form as I picked up my cup from the counter. It had been a few months since I'd gone anywhere near the deep and dark web.

I'd stayed away to keep from attracting attention to myself, because I didn't want or want to be dragged back out into the spotlight or alert anyone of where I was.

After placing my cup down and resuming my seat at the table, my fingers hovered uncertainly above the keyboard. I began to type, slowly at first, and then quicker as I overcame my initial fears.

It was like riding a bicycle. The skills are always there, even when you don't use them often. I worked my way through several security measures and firewalls - cursing the inadequate laptop I had - to dig deep enough to land myself in the dark web.

I start reading, my eyes darting side to side as I take in shocking, horrifying information about the man in question.

My feelings range from curious, to frightened, to shocked, and finally terrified. I mean, it shouldn't surprise me, given everything everyone was saying about him.

If anything, this should convince me to stop what I was doing entirely. Some of my usual sites and pages I avoid altogether for fear that my IP address may be traced here, since I've not taken any extreme measures to protect myself.

I am so focused on what I'm doing, my interest so thoroughly piqued, that I don't notice someone knocking on my door.

It's only when whoever is on the other side starts pounding on the wood that I jump up, looking around nervously.

"Ms. Callaghan?"

Definitely not Mona.

I close my laptop so he won't see what I've been up to, then make my way to the door with some reluctance, and open it slightly to see a tall, broad shouldered man with golden hair and green eyes, standing in my doorway.

I automatically move aside to let him enter, since Aldine's men dropped by unannounced on occasion to search our rooms for drugs. He turns the light in the apartment on, and I blink from the brightness of the fluorescent light. I watch as he takes a few steps into the apartment, measured and slow.

I don't notice the box in his hands until he places it carefully on the counter. He glances briefly at the laptop, but makes no move towards it. I release the breath I'd been holding in relief.

"Mr. Aldine would like the pleasure of your company in an hour. He asked that you wear what's in this box," he says, tapping a large finger on top.

"Just those?"

He nods, his gaze roaming cautiously over me, as if he were trying to get a real measure of what kind of person I was.

He turns on his heel then, making his way towards the door quietly, an impressive feat for a man of his size.

"Oh, and Ms. Callaghan," he says, pausing with his hand on the knob. "You had better be there on time."

---

I lower the handle and let myself in the same way I did last night. I am surprised to find that the lights are all on, which makes it easier for me to make my way to the living room, where I hear ice clink against glass.

My steps are silent, since I'm not wearing any shoes today. I think he'll be a little startled to find that I am already in his house, but he's standing at the bar, facing in my direction.

Unlike yesterday, when his eyes had widened slightly and his brows had risen a fraction of an inch at my appearance, his reaction is plenty subdued today.

Something's different.

I can feel it.

There's a quiet, dangerous air about him that raises every hair on my body. My palms dampen with alarm, and my gut screams at me to turn tail and get the fuck out of there as quickly as I can.

But then there's that curious, twisted part of me that wants to stay. Granted, he hadn't been this angry last night, but it wasn't my job to care what had ticked him off.

My duty here was to relieve him of his stress, his anger, the tension pulling at his shoulders.

Get out, Avery. Get out now.

Instead, I take a few steps forward with my bare feet. His gaze lowers to the sheer slip he had given me to wear tonight, my dark nipples all but visible beneath the white, lace material.

The hem reaches just past my pelvis, where a barely-there thong tries, yet fails to cover my crotch. My legs are bare for him to see and I cannot wait to wrap them both around his waist as he drives into me.

I stop a few feet from him, my hands loose at my sides so he can look his fill. His eyes linger over the bruises on my skin, sparking with gratification before lowering to take in my curves, the smoothness of my mound.

I am annoyed at how wet a simple look makes me. Everything about him just turned me on so goddamn much.

Already, my pussy is clenching with need, aching for his fingers or his cock to fill me up.

Mr. Aldine has stripped off his coat, blazer and tie, leaving all three items lying casually on the back of a chair. All that's left now is his shirt, which is buttoned halfway down, revealing the hard muscle of his chest to my wandering gaze, and his tailored slacks.

My fingers twitch in anticipation of undressing him, and my mouth waters when he starts to fold up his sleeves.

My breath catches when he moves towards me, my eyes lowering to the evident bulge in his pants.

"Tell me something, Avery."

Goosebumps, at the sound of his voice. He doesn't raise it, yet it still manages to fill the room with its deep, smooth timbre.

He comes to a stop just a foot away from me, one of his hands reaching up to cup the delicate bone of my jaw in his large bear claw. The other lowers to raise the hem of my slip so he's trailing a finger over my bare skin.

"Have you thought about me and my cock since your visit last night?"

The question takes me slightly off guard, and I pause for lack of anything to say. He tilts his head sideways, a strange glint appearing in the dark blue of his eyes.

He lowers his hand to my collarbone, tracing the large bruise there before he moves his index finger to the straps of the slip.

I cannot breathe.

He slowly pushes the silk straps off my shoulders, causing it to fall around my waist, baring my tits to him.

He grabs one, then the other in each hand. Gently, he massages the soft orbs in his hands, his thumbs teasing my hardened nipples.

I can't help but gasp, then moan low in my throat when he squeezes them both almost painfully.

"I have, yes," I admit, reaching up to touch him.

He quickly swats my hands off of him, his jaw clenching with irritation. I lower them back to my sides, my skin stinging where he just hit me.

"Tell me what you were thinking about," he commands softly, his hands running over my flesh but not lingering on any part long enough to satisfy me.

"I thought about you touching me, just like this. I thought about your hand in my underwear, fucking me while I moan your name. I th-thought about what it would feel like to have your cock stretch apart my pussy," I confess.

He growls with satisfaction, and he lowers one of his hands to my belly, then lower still, to the waistline of my panties.

I am shocked when he grabs the string and pulls, tearing the flimsy material. I feel it fall, a useless rag landing between my bare feet.

"Should I tell you what I've been thinking about, Avery?"

I cry out when he cups my mound in his palm, pressing against me painfully. I squirm and try to push away, but he grabs my throat, pushing me backwards until I'm pressed up against a wall in the room.

I cannot see past him, he's that big. Every sense is overwhelmed by him and I can barely think, barely breathe as he stares at me.

His voice, when it comes this time, is low, and fucking terrifying.

"I was thinking that you must have some kind of death wish, because why else would you lie to my face? Or keep your little escapades on the dark web away from me."

The haze of lust clears when I realise he's switched tactics on me. He leans in, so I have no choice but to stare into the midnight blue of his eyes.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out?"

When I don't answer immediately, he yanks me forward, then slams me back against the wall with a resounding thud.

"It isn't what you think-"

I snap my eyes shut when he squeezes around my throat, his other hand still pressed against my pussy, which throbs and clenches with need.

I don't even question how the fuck he knows so much about me and what I've been up to. I'm just terrified of what he'll do with me now.

"Do not lie to me."

"I'm not. I swear. I-I looked you up because I was just curious. Everything I know about you is from what other people tell me. The media, the cops. I just wanted to find out if you were... as bad as they all say you are."

"Look at me, Avery."

I feel my eyes burn with tears from his grip on my neck, and bite down on my lip to keep from sobbing out loud. I fight the tears back before I open my eyes, and wait with bated breath while he searches my face for any signs of a lie.

His anger is chilling to see, and I know he'll kill me if I don't start talking.

So I do.

"There are at least a dozen hits out on you, most of which would pay well over ten million dollars in reward, depending on how you die. There is also... someone has your office under surveillance. I don't know who, but it could be anyone. Your enemies, maybe even your allies. I'll show you everything, I swear."

His hold loosens with every sliver of truth I share, and by the time I'm done, he's breathing so heavily I'm worried he's going to hit me.

"And you found all of this out in two hours?"

"One and a half. And that isn't even the worst it gets. I could find out much more if I had the right equipment."

His eyes search, darting back and forth between mine with all the perception of a man whose paranoia has kept him alive for years.

He lets go, and I inhale deeply, reaching for my throat to ease the pain of his grip. My pussy mourns his hand, and I feel my wetness leak out onto my inner thighs.

"What excuse do you have for lying to me about who you are?" he asks, his voice a mere whisper.

I shake my head at that, and lower my eyes to the floor. He grabs my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin as he holds me in place so I can't look away.

"I can't tell you. It's too personal. I'm not... ready to share that with anyone. If you want to kill me for it, then fine."

I have no idea where this bravado comes from, but I manage to hold his gaze with some determination and stubbornness.

"If you're a fed, and I find out you're here to leech information off of me, I swear to God, Avery, I will make these walls echo with your screams," he says, pointing a finger in my face.

I know he means it. He doesn't have to say or do anything more to convince me of that.

"I'm not here for anything involving you, I swear. I'm just trying to escape my past. That's all it is," I admit, keeping my gaze pinned on his.

He is quiet for a long time, processing everything I'd told him and filing it away for future reference. I await his verdict, and when it finally comes, I'm coiled tight with tension.

"I will let you live, provided you make yourself useful to me. You'll get onto the dark web and find out whatever you can about me and the people out to get me," he says evenly.

I nod obediently. "I'll do whatever you want."

He tilts my head back so I'm forced to look up at him as he takes control of the situation again.

"If you keep anything from me, or lie to me again, not even this slice of heaven between your legs will save you."

I say nothing more afterwards, mostly because I'm uncertain what he wants from me right now.

"I suppose," I begin, my voice breathy from the need slowly creeping its way to my belly. "This is the part where you execute whatever punishment is brewing in that twisted mind of yours."

"You would relish that punishment because it feeds whatever debauchery you keep hidden behind this innocent face of yours. We both know you're just as sick as I am, or you wouldn't have stayed last night. You wouldn't have set foot back here again, and you most certainly wouldn't still be here right now if there wasn't anything in it for you."

I know he's right, but I won't admit that to him. At least, not yet. Maybe I never would.

Regardless, my body betrays me to his keen senses as if it has no regard for my dignity at all.

"Make yourself useful to me, Avery."

I reach for his hand, pushing the thick fingers between my legs so he can feel the wetness smeared on my thighs.

My gaze darts between his eyes, and I part my lips when he traces his thumb over my swollen, aching clit.

I undo his belt quickly, dropping the heavy leather to the floor at my feet before undoing his buttons and reaching for his cock.

His chest rumbles when I close my small hand around his size, and he slams a palm against the wall beside my face to steady himself.

He teases me just as I am teasing him, fingers working nimbly and with some effort to get each other back to that dark place we both seemed to love so much.

He suddenly drops his hands to my ass and lifts me, moving me from the wall to the deep-seat couch that takes up one of the corners in the room.

I am thrown onto it as he kneels on one knee between my legs. While he works on his pants, I grab the front of his shirt and pull. Buttons fall on my tits, others scattering around the couch then falling onto the floor, before I remove the shirt from his body.

His slacks are lowered to mid-thigh, and I look down at the impressive erection jutting out at me, my mouth watering with hunger.

I let out a squeal of surprise when he grabs my hips and flips me onto my hands and knees effortlessly, as if I weigh nothing. A pleased moan sounds from my throat when he runs his fingers over my wet pussy, pushing one of the digits inside me.

I close my eyes, relishing the feel of him touching me in that rough, almost possessive manner of his.