The pop is loud in the silent room, but her cry is one of pleasure, not of pain. She glares at me over her shoulder, but I can see the spark of interest in her eyes and make a mental note of that. Oh, Angel. You do have a little devil inside you, and those wings might not be the purest white either. Fuck me, but it makes you even sexier.
But as the bathroom door shuts behind her, I know I can’t go there with her, no matter how much we keep crashing into each other. The whisper of the shower through the door is pure torture, but with this sword of Damocles hanging over our heads on a single silken thread, I can’t let myself get any more distracted by the pleasures that she offers me or the ones I could readily give to her. I can’t, because I have to keep her safe. I have to get us both out of this mess. That’s all this can be, or we’ll both end up dead.
The fact is, even at my best, I might still end up getting us both killed, but I have to try. And I need a clear head for this. The dire thought is enough to calm my raging desires and let my brain focus on the tasks ahead. Taking a moment to at least undo my zipper and let my cock have a little bit of relief , I dig in my duffle to pull out a burner phone.
I dial Chucky, a guy who’s more a tool than a friend, but someone good to have on your side. He’s gotten in trouble a few times with the law and walks in that gray area where what he does can be legal or illegal simply based on whose computers he’s doing it to and who he’s working for. The line connects, but it’s silent, as always, because he waits for you to speak. “Chucky, it’s Shane. Ran into some issues at work.”
His voice, high-pitched and wheezy, comes through the line like it always does. “Shane. Good to hear from you, man. Heard there was some carnage.”
Chucky speaks like everything is a video game come to life, and I doubt he’s ever seen actual carnage or he wouldn’t throw that word around so carelessly.
“What have you heard?” I ask, not only for curiosity’s sake but to know how fast and far the word’s getting out. I can judge the heat on me and the severity from that.
“Heard a legacy man went down on enemy soil,” Chucky replies. “That true?”
I consider how much to tell him, but I need his help, and getting information comes at a price, usually telling or confirming information. And this isn’t too bad. Chucky can’t use it to hamstring me. “True. Professional hit on Dominick’s turf. Carlos Rivaldi.”
Chucky whistles low and long, knowing that there’s always a ticking time bomb between the Rivaldi and Angeline families, just waiting on the spark of ignition, which this could be. “That is a problem, isn’t it, Shane? You do it?”
“No,” I growl, wanting him to understand this one hundred percent. “Did you forget who the fuck I am? I had nothing to do with it. Hitman came in and out clean, and we were all chasing our tails to catch him, deal with Carlos, and get the girls out.”
“Girls? What girls?” Chucky asks, and I can hear the excitement in his voice.
Shit. He didn’t know about the girls yet. “Girl was in the room when the show went down, uninjured. Another was in the hallway, also uninjured. Come on, man, it’s Dom’s club. What did you expect?”
“Hmm, either girl see the hitman?”
Trying to appeal to his nature, I use his vocabulary. “Maybe. That’s why I’m calling, Chucky. I got an innocent that needs protection, needs to disappear for a while, maybe long-term respawn.”
Chucky laughs in my ear, not harshly but he’s not buying it yet. “Good one, but don’t bother, Shane. Just tell me.”
I try again, knowing I don’t have a lot of time. “Look, Dominick’s keeping the dancer safe. She’s his. But this other girl, she’s mine. Not like that, but I promised her I’d keep her safe. Also, right now, other than the camera, she’s the primary witness who can identify the hitman and help figure out who’s behind the whole thing. I need you to see what you can find out. Let me know how much shit we’re in here and if we should be hiding from Dominick or Sal or both of them. I don’t fucking know.”
Chucky huffs, sarcasm dripping from each wheezy exhalation. “Oh, sure, just all that. No problem. Would you like for me to get into the IRS D-base while I’m at it?”
“Please, Chucky,” I beg, wondering how much more horse trading this guy’s going to need. For Meghan, I’d be willing to bargain away every chip I’ve got, and maybe promise a few more down the line. “This is important.”
Thankfully, Chucky lets me off the hook, humming for a second as I hear his keyboard clacking away in the background.
“All right, Shane,” Chucky says finally. “I’ll see what I can find out. But this is a big ask and a big owe. I won’t forget.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me, relieved that he’s not going into details. “I know, Chucky. Thanks.”
Chapter 13
Maggie
When I come out of the shower, Shane is lying back on the bed with his eyes closed. For a moment, I let my eyes trace over him, noting the flops of dark hair he’s obviously been running his fingers through, his long lashes, the soft part of his full lips, and his strong jawline. Before I can continue my perusal any lower, his eyes pop open and he catches me leering at him like a creeper. Without a word, he stands and disappears into the bathroom to clean up, giving me time to change clothes. My body’s exhausted after all the stress of the night, the fear, and then having a couple of heaping doses of arousal thrown in there with it.
Still, slipping into my after work tank top and some fresh panties helps me regain some sense of normality, and despite my earlier worries, the sheets on the bed are fresh and smell like fabric softener. I promise myself that I’m going to stay awake for Shane, but I’m just so worn out, my eyelids are drooping almost immediately, and the darkness seems so inviting and unavoidable after everything that’s happened.
Sometime after I fell asleep, Shane must have decided to join me in bed because when a bad dream wakes me with a barely suppressed gasp, I find myself waking up in his arms.
The dream was horrible. I was back at Petals, but this time, I was in the room ready to dance, and instead of it being Carlos in his thousand-dollar suit, it was Shane watching me with lustful eyes when the door burst open and suddenly, Shane’s body exploded in bullet holes.
Still, the feeling of him holding me melts the dream away in an instant, and I relax. His bare chest is warm on my back, the big spoon to my little spoon, one arm wrapped high around my shoulders and one low around my hips. The fingertips of his left hand are just above my panty line, in that small space where my tank top always seems to ride up, but it feels good and reassures me that my dream was just that—a dream.
I wiggle slightly, pleased and comfortable in his arms. When I press my hips back, I can feel him, thick and hard against my peachy bottom, barely contained in his boxer briefs.
I bite my lip to suppress my moan, knowing I’m already wet between my legs. This fire he keeps stoking in my core had cooled to embers while we slept, but it lights to an inferno instantly as I feel him grow even larger against me.
I grind my hips back again, stroking his length between my cheeks, mimicking the lap dances I’ve seen the girls at the club give. It’s amazing, electric to my very core, and my panties feel soaked as I part my thighs a little, still making little movements against him with my butt. But Shane stays still, sleeping through my attempt at seduction. Frack, I’m so turned on, already on the edge.
Maybe I could . . . no, not with Shane right behind me. He begins snoring softly, his breath warm against my hair. He’s passed out, deep in sleep and would never know. I’ll just have to be super quiet so he doesn’t wake up. I know it’s a risk, but maybe a quick release will help me deal with him today?
Decision made, I slowly let my fingers trace up my thigh to my center. My panties are soaked through, my clit already pulsing in need.