Dirty Thoughts: O'Donnell Crime Family, #2

By Paula Cox

Dirty Thoughts is book 2 of the O'Donnell Crime Family Trilogy. Book3, Dirty Secrets is available everywhere now!

I’m her worst sinful nightmare/
She’s the kind of girl who has no business around a brute like me.
Nineteen. Beautiful. So fragile she could break from a hard stare.
She’s running from something—or someone.
I saved her, but now I’ll own her.

I’m a mob enforcer—I hurt people for a living, not go around saving girls.
But Emily was something else.

She was so young. So innocent.
The way her eyes would pull away when you look hard enough
--like she’s afraid she’ll break.

I had no business being around her, no business kissing her.
But once I had a taste, I couldn’t stop myself.

I’ll own her sweet curves.
Use her for my pleasure .
And leave her ruined for anyone else.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Nov 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386171232

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DIRTY THOUGHTS: O'Donnell Crime Family (BOOK 2)

By Paula Cox

I’m her worst sinful nightmare.

SHE’S THE KIND OF GIRL who has no business around a brute like me.

Nineteen. Beautiful. So fragile she could break from a hard stare.

She’s running from something—or someone.

I saved her, but now I’ll own her.

I’m a mob enforcer—I hurt people for a living, not go around saving girls.

But Emily was something else.

She was so young. So innocent.

The way her eyes would pull away when you look hard enough

—like she’s afraid she’ll break.

I had no business being around her, no business kissing her.

But once I had a taste, I couldn’t stop myself.

I’ll own her sweet curves.

Use her for my pleasure .

And leave her ruined for anyone else.

Chapter 1

Jude

And I thought this day couldn’t get any better , I think as Tool explains it all to me.

We sit in the bar—called The Leprechaun ’cause whoever named it thinks of himself as a funny bastard, I guess—sipping whisky. The curtains are drawn, just like they always are, and we sit in dusty beams of sunlight. Photographs of past hitters and hard men hang from the walls and a shotgun is mounted above the bar with the sign circa. 1922 below it.

Tool, a short, squat man who is known in the business for his viciousness with hammers, plyers, wrenches, crowbars—just about any tool you could think of, this man uses as a weapon. He sucks on his cigarette and blows smoke into the room.

So you’ve been promoted, he tells me. "You won’t be taking your orders from me anymore, man. You’ll be taking them from the top."

The top, as in . . .

As in Mickey O’Donnell himself. Tool nods. "Heard the news last night. He’s damn impressed with the work you’ve been doing, Jude. Damn impressed. We all are, if I’m being honest. You’re fucking legit, man."

I incline my head. Thanks, Tool.

Boss wants to see you, though, so we can’t sit around here fiddling each other’s ladies’ parts all goddamn day.

Has anyone ever told you you’re a bastard, Tool?

Tool flashes his nicotine-stained teeth. More times than I would’ve liked, but that’s life, ain’t it?

For bastards like you, maybe.

He grins. You getting all cocky now ’cause you’re the boss’s new favorite?

Nah, just in a good mood, is all.

Oh yeah, why’s that?

I won’t tell him, of course. It’d be a damn difficult thing to explain to a man like Tool what I’m feeling right now. Hell, it’s hard enough to explain it to myself. Just living life to the full.

Yeah? Me too. Tooth takes a bag of white powder from his pocket. He holds it up. Want some?

Nah, like you said, I’ve got a meeting. I finish my whisky. Where’s it at?

It’s the boss, man. Where’d you think? Central Park.

Tool measures out a neat line on the table, leans forward, and vacuums it all up in one quick snort. He shoots back in his chair, letting out an ahh. Winking at me, he grabs hold of his whisky so hard his knuckles turn white. You’re a damn good hitter, Jude, he says, voice shaky. "I’ve never met a man as cold as you. You’re like ice, man. It’s like you’re goddamn carved from ice. What’s your secret? He lets out a low, guttural laugh, coked off his head. I’ve got to hear it. I need some advice."

Shut your face, Tool, I say cheerfully.

I know what it is! Tool cries. It’s ’cause you never bother with women. I’ve seen you. They throw themselves at you and sure, you take them for the night, don’t you? But I never hear you talking about a girlfriend or—worse still—a wife. You don’t have that complication in your life. That’s it, isn’t it? He leans forward eagerly, as though he’s caught me in a lie. I knew it. Right, first thing I’m doing when I get home is telling the wife and kids to get the hell out. I’m going lone wolf, like you.

But I’m not lone wolf anymore. I think about Emily, about last night, about the amazing sex and the closeness afterward. It was weird, it wasn’t just about the sex, more like the sex was a byproduct of how close we’d become. I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m actually glad we waited so long to finally do it. It made it sweeter, in a way. Not that my balls didn’t turn ice-blue in the meantime. But I guess that’s the price you pay for really mind-blowing sex.

You wouldn’t last a week on your own. I laugh. "First time a mark nicked