Oh Holy Knight Read online

  Her legs wrap around my waist and her back arches, signaling for me to move. I pull out slowly and slide back in, inch by fucking inch until I’m balls deep inside her. My pulse sounds in my ears as our bodies find a rhythm.

  “Eyes on me, Carrie,” I say roughly.

  She holds my gaze, biting her lip and I push even deeper. Dipping my head, I press my forehead to hers and thrust in and out.

  Fast and hard.

  Rough and desperate.

  I lower my hand, my fingers finding her clit as she digs her heels dig into my back. Titling her hips upward, she sends me even deeper. I feel her clench around me, and I know she’s ready. My thumb brushes her clit again and she goes off. Her breath shudders as her body stiffens. She calls my name, but I don’t hear her.

  My pulse is too loud.

  My need to strong.

  I thrust deeper.

  Faster.

  Harder.

  My eyes never leave hers as I go over the edge, roaring her name as I fill her. After she’s taken every drop, I brush my lips across hers. Still connected, I roll us over. The back of my head hits the carpet and my body goes limp with Carrie’s draped over it. I close my eyes and try to catch my breath. A laugh escapes me when I remember my sweats are still pooled at my knees. Carrie lifts her head from my chest and narrows her eyes.

  “What’s so funny?” she asks.

  Her hair is pretty funny seeing as there is a bow stuck on top and is that…yep, she’s got a gift tag stuck in there too.

  I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head.

  “Nothing,” I mutter, reaching up to gently remove the tag and the bow from her hair. Tossing them aside, I wrap my arms around her waist and bring her closer. In a perfect world, I can stay here, just like this, with my arms wrapped around my girl and never move. I’m about to touch my lips to hers when the timer on my phone goes off. Not expecting it, Carrie yelps. She scrambles to sit up and much to my dismay she slides off my cock.

  Well, so much for a perfect world.

  “What the hell is that?”

  I mumble a curse and reach for my pants, pulling them up to my waist.

  “It’s a fucking reminder to move that goddamn elf.”

  I told you he was a cockblock.

  Chapter Seven

  Wolf

  “Is he dead?”

  Bishop.

  “He looks gray.”

  Deuce.

  “Might help if ya’ll check him for a pulse.”

  Bash.

  “What the fuck are you three idiots doing?”

  Fucking Parrish.

  “We found him like this when we opened the bar,” Bishop supplies. “He hasn’t an inch.”

  “Hasn’t made a peep, either,” Deuce adds.

  “And, I know for a fact the ol’ geezer snores. We think he might’ve kicked the bucket,” Bash drawls.

  “Step out of my way,” Parrish orders. Now would probably be a good time for me to open my eyes and show them all I’m alive and well, but Parrish yanks on my beard before I can. My eyes immediately spring open and I nearly jump out of my seat from the fucking pain.

  “Not dead,” Parrish announces, giving my whiskers another hard tug.

  “But you’re about to be,” I growl, smacking his hand away from me.

  So help me Jesus, I’m going to kill him.

  “Oh, please,” he scoffs. “You ain’t killing anyone.” He raises an eyebrow. “So, what did you do?”

  I rub a hand over my jaw, my whole face tingles.

  Bastard.

  I grind my teeth and fix him with a glare.

  “Can’t a man take a nap without the likes of you assaulting him?”

  “Right, so you just came to Kate’s to take a fucking snooze,” Parrish volleys. “I call bullshit.”

  There’s no way in hell I’m going to admit he’s right, that I spent the night here. I’d rather drop dead for real.

  “Mama Leone kicked him out,” Riggs supplies from behind him.

  How the fuck does he know?

  “I knew it!” Parrish boasts. A smug smirk tugs at his lips as he crosses his arms against his chest, and I glare at Riggs. Not only am I pissed he knows my wife threw me out on my ass, but it figures he’d be the one to rat me out to the club. As soon as he turns his back, I’m blowing up his manger.

  Say goodbye to the Three Wise Knights.

  “Where did you come from?” I sneer.

  “The chimney,” he teases, flicking the tip of his Santa hat. He’s been wearing the fucking thing for a week now, practicing his Ho, Ho, Ho voice when he thinks no one is looking.

  Dope.

  “It was only a matter of time before Maria kicked your ass to the curb, so what did you do to finally make her come to her senses?” Parrish taunts.

  We should’ve had him committed when we had the chance, when the fucking man thought a black crow was his best friend. Now, he’s got the crazy under control but he’s an even bigger thorn in my side.

  “Oh, where do I begin,” Riggs says, pulling out a chair. He flips it around and straddles the back. “First, there was the whole extension on the house debacle that still isn’t done.”

  “Not our fault,” Bishop defends.

  “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. The poor woman’s couch is still on her front lawn.”

  “She was awfully mad when the light fixture fell out of the ceiling,” Bash agrees. “I even rigged it to the coat rack so she could still plug it in, and she smacked me with a wooden spoon.”

  “Welcome to the family,” Riggs says. “You’ve officially been inducted.”

  I really thought the chandelier would’ve been the tipping point, but we got past that. I convinced Lady to have patience, that Enzo and the boys would have the project complete this week. Everything would be smooth sailing once it was done. Of course that didn’t happen and it turns out the renovations were the least of our Christmas troubles.

  But the thing that sent her over the fucking edge was when she got a call early last night from the police station. I was doing a little last-minute Christmas shopping when I saw a line outside GameStop. Curious to see why people were camping outside the fucking store, I started chatting up one of the workers. I quickly learned they got in a shipment of Playstation consoles and were giving out tickets to the first couple of hundred people standing on the line. Now, I didn’t know what this Playstation thing was, so I asked Siri to give me the scoop and I came to discover this thing was a hot ticket item. Anna was too young for it, but the kids at Frankie’s house would probably love it, so I got on the line.

  About two hours into this operation the person in front of me started waving across the parking lot to a group of people. They came over to him and got on the line. I’m not the type of guy to give anyone shit about cutting—that’s a pussy thing to do—but when it came time to giving out the tickets, I didn’t get one because the guy and his posse got the last of them.

  Fuck that shit.

  I didn’t freeze my ass off for six hours just to get the shaft because I was a nice guy.

  No, not me.

  I calmly tapped the fella on the shoulder and told him one of those tickets were mine. If the people behind me wanted to duke it out with him, that was there problem. I just wanted my ticket. I mean, what’s fair is fair.

  The son of bitch told me to fuck off.

  Well, nice guy or not, no one tells me to fuck off. I snapped, pummeling the guy to the floor and tried to pull the ticket out his hand with my teeth. I know, I know—not my finest moment. But I was stressed. I had Maria breathing down my neck over the renovations, Riggs fighting with me about having turkey on Christmas Eve—the guy swears it’s not a holiday unless he captures a wild bird from the hospital grounds—Nico sending me pictures of the engagement ring her purchased, and Enzo threatening to jump on a plane to Costa Rica every five fucking minutes. Not to mention, Parrish was still trying to steal my holiday. We still didn’t have seven fishes—only five
—and we still had yet to fill the box in the back bar with toys.

  Oh, and let’s not forget my fight with the tailor. I specifically told him to take two inches off the waist. Instead, he took four inches off the length. Santa’s wearing high waters this year. Forget the presents, he’s going clam digging.

  So, yeah, I was the end of my rope.

  I wound up breaking the guys nose.

  He pressed charges on me, and I got locked up. Normally I would’ve called Parrish or Pipe to bail me out, but Parrish was just itching to see me fail and Pipe, well he runs his mouth like one of those old broads who hangs out the window and spies on all the neighborhood kids. I have no doubt the little bitch would’ve ran straight to Parrish as soon as he hung up the phone, so he was out too.

  Lady was the best option.

  I expected her to call her son, Anthony, to bail me out, but she showed up to the precinct herself and the second I heard her heels clicking across the linoleum floor, I knew I was fucked. She posted my bail and as soon as we exited the precinct, she handed me a garbage bag full of my clothes. Apparently, I’m not allowed back in the house until her couch is off the lawn. That, or, as she so eloquently put it, I pull my big fat head out of my ass—whichever comes first.

  The front door to the bar opens and Enzo walks in with Nico on his heels.

  “I told you he’d be here,” Nico says, slapping Enzo on the back.

  There’s only so much a man can take before he breaks and these two are enough to send me over the edge. I pull myself together and stand, making a mental note to pull the air mattress out of the back room. If I have to spend another night here, I can’t be sleeping on a wooden chair. Considering how things are going, it’s really no wonder the fucking thing didn’t collapse with me on it last night.

  “Hey, Dad, we got to talk,” Enzo says.

  “Not until I’ve had my coffee,” I mutter, making my way to the espresso machine behind the bar.

  “It’s about the renovations.”

  Fuck the espresso.

  I grab the Sambuca from the shelf, rip the pourer from the top and take a shot straight from the bottle.

  “Um…aren’t you supposed to put that in the coffee?” Enzo asks.

  “Did you fellas know Maria kicked your old man out of the house last night?” Parrish chimes in.

  “Come on, that’s the fourth one!” Nico cries. “It’s getting expensive buying all your ex-wives Christmas presents.”

  Tell me about it.

  That reminds me, I still have to buy Sophie something.

  Fuck my life.

  I take another swig before lowering the bottle. Diverting my eyes to Enzo, I stare at him for a beat.

  “If you’re here to deliver bad news—”

  “Well, it ain’t good.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” I mutter, dragging out a heavy sigh. “What is it this time?”

  He eyes the bottle for a second.

  “Maybe you should have another.”

  “For fucks sake just tell me,” I hiss.

  “Fine,” he says, bracing his hands against the bar. “There is no way the house will be done in time for Christmas. When we blew out the wall for the extension, I noticed the wiring was faulty and I figured I’d replace it, but it’s not that easy. I have to run a new line…”

  He continues to explain all the problems, but I tune him out. For the first time since I decided this was going be the year we celebrated Christmas the proper way, I’m doubting myself. How the hell am I supposed to pull this off when everything keeps going against me? Maybe canceling Christmas is the right move. If I call it quits now I’m still giving everyone time to make other plans. We won’t all be together, but it is what it is.

  I tried and that’s all a man can do.

  I’m about to announce Christmas is off when the front door opens again, this time it’s Blackie and Lacey. They’ve got their girls with them and their arms are full of presents.

  “Grandpa!” Jacqueline, who is a little older than my Anna, runs straight for Parrish. He lifts her in his arms and spins her around the bar—a big ol’ grin on his face.

  Good.

  With his pride and joy here to soak up all his attention, he’ll get off my back.

  I tear my eyes away from him and Jacqueline to look at Blackie who is wearing one of those baby carriers under his kutte and has Dominique tucked safely against his chest. Lacey fixes the enormous headband on her head and I find myself smiling at the two of them.

  I don’t know why—Lord knows I should be crying—but, there’s something about seeing them happy that just makes me happy. Perhaps it’s knowing how hard they fought for what they have now. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s them.

  “Earth to Dad,” Enzo calls.

  “What?” I say, bringing my gaze back to him.

  “Do you want to tell Maria or should I?”

  “Tell Maria what?” Riggs asks.

  “Christmas is canceled,” Nico supplies.

  “What?!” Riggs exclaims. “Dude, I’ve been chasing a fucking turkey for three days. You can’t cancel Christmas.”

  “Who is canceling Christmas?” Lacey asks, making her way toward us. She inches up on her tip toes and presses a kiss to my cheek. “We got the presents for the clubs Toys For Tots donation. We also picked up some things for the toy run. Bishop gave us a list of things the kids asked for, I think we got everything and a little more. Blackie can’t be controlled in a toy store.” She glances over her shoulder and winks at her husband who just smiles at her.

  His gaze cuts to me and the smile falls.

  “You’re not really canceling it are you?” he asks.

  “Since when do you have the Christmas spirit?” Riggs questions. “You’re usually the Grinch.”

  Keeping his eyes pinned to mine, Blackie shrugs his shoulders.

  “I don’t know,” he says, smoothing a hand over Dominique’s head. “Shit changes when you have kids, I guess.”

  Ain’t that a fact.

  “I love watching the girls on Christmas morning, seeing the joy on their faces—nothing else compares,” he continues.

  Another fact.

  All I wanted was to bring the magic of Christmas back to my family. Back to my brothers, their wives and their kids.

  “Plus, I was really looking forward to sampling Wolf’s feast of the seven fishes,” Blackie admits.

  Yeah, well, we only have five.

  “You don’t like my turkey?” Riggs questions, sounding slightly offended.

  “Man, you’d have to actually kill the turkey and cook it for it to even be considered part of the menu. You capture those damn things and let them run around your yard. It’s fucking weird,” Blackie tells him.

  “I pardon them!”

  They continue to duke it out over the infamous wild turkey shenanigans, and I take a moment to glance around the bar. Even if I went through with it, none of us have the space to accommodate everyone. I suppose I could get one of those tents, but the couch is already on the front lawn and since I put a pool in the backyard last summer for Anna, there isn’t enough room for a swing set let alone a fucking tent with fifty some odd people.

  The only place we all fit is here at the bar and while there is plenty of room in the kitchen to throw down a feast and the outside looks like Luna Park, there is no Christmas tree. No fucking stockings. And no nativity.

  But that can be fixed.

  “Christmas isn’t canceled,” I say.

  “Dad,” Enzo argues. “There is no way the house is going to be ready.”

  “Fuck the house,” I reply. “Bash!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We need a tree.”

  “Come again?”

  “A Christmas tree,” I clarify. “Ten feet.” I glance up at the rafters.

  Go big or go home, Scotto.

  “Make it twelve.”

  “He’s got that crazy look in his eyes,” Nico points out. “Pop, I think you should sit dow
n. Maybe take an aspirin or something.”

  “I don’t need an aspirin, I need a Christmas tree,” I growl. “And lights, lots of lights. Ornaments too. Oh, and stockings. We’ll hang them on the bar.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out my pad, jotting down everything I’m going to need to turn this place into the North-fucking-Pole.

  “He’s lost his fucking mind,” Parrish mutters.

  “Grandpa you said the f-word.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie, but Uncle Wolf has lost his marbles.”

  I lift my head.

  “Well, why the hell are you people standing around, staring at me. We’ve got work to do.”

  “And what are you going to be doing while we’re all trimming a fucking tree like a bunch of pansies?” Parrish snarls.

  That’s easy.

  I’m going to go tell my wife I pulled my fat head out of my ass and hope she lets me back in our bed. I’m going to need a decent night’s sleep before the toy run.

  Speaking of toys, I glance around the bar. While I was Christmas shopping, I picked up some gift cards for Gunther’s kids. I figured that was better than picking out a bunch of crap I’m not even sure they’ll like. This way he can go and buy them whatever they need and give his kids a good Christmas.

  “Hey, Riggs, where’s Gunther?”

  “Hell, if I know. He hasn’t shown up for work in two days.” He shakes his head. “It’s so hard to find decent help these days.”

  Whose he telling?

  I’ve been trying to find decent help for three decades.

  “Find him,” I order, then I take another shot Sambuca.

  It’s time to grovel before Maria’s feet. Here’s to hoping she can’t find her frying pan.

  Wish me luck.

  Chapter Eight

  Enzo

  After my dad decided Christmas was on and that we would be celebrating at the bar, he went home to Maria and smoothed things over with her. Me and the guys got back to work and even though we still have a good three days left on the job that we probably won’t get to until the day after Christmas, I can happily report that as of this morning, Maria’s couch is back inside the house.