by Nova Rain
“What is it? Why did you stop?” I whisper, curiosity and frustration creeping into my tone.
“Don’t ask,” he groans, his eyes pinned to the floor. “Thank your friend for me. I’m out of here.”
Just like that, Joe strolls past me, leaving me alone with my thoughts and every ugly emotion that his reaction has sent throughout my body. I’m not sure what would be worse: a rejection due to his sexual preference or what he just did? The former would be understandable, but the latter doesn’t make any sense at all. At any rate, he’s not the guy I thought he was, up until a few minutes ago. He’s a total mystery to me, a sexy riddle that doesn’t seem willing to get involved with me.
Chapter Six
Joe
“You stupid son of a bitch…”
The little voice inside my head won’t shut up. It keeps on reminding me what a fool I’ve been. I was kissing a gorgeous brunette, and judging by the sounds she was making, the two of us would have been doing it in minutes. I don’t know where; maybe we’d have gone back to her friend’s place or we’d have stayed put, but does it matter? No. I could have bent her over right there and fucked her from behind. Okay, we wouldn’t have been comfortable, we’d have to have kept it down, but sex is sex. It’s spontaneous, you don’t plan it. You just live in the moment.
Still, it all depends who you live in that moment with. I’ve met dozens of girls in my time. Most of them are bimbos I pick up in bars. The story plays out like this: We meet; we talk; I buy her a couple of drinks; and then, she’s mine till the morning. I take off without even getting her phone number. Why should I? I’ve already taken what I wanted from her. All those bitches are more or less the same. Skimpy outfits, tiny brains, skinny bodies and insatiable lust for sex. They are nothing like Michelle. She’s posh; she’s got “class” written all over her. I’ve never seen her wear anything shorter than a knee-length skirt. She doesn’t flaunt her cleavage, even though it could draw a lot of attention, including mine. I guess that’s what a good education can do to someone. Whatever the reason is she doesn’t prefer provocative outfits, this hot brunette has to stay away from me. It’s killing me that I have to keep my hands off her. I know spending the night with her would be amazing, but I’m not what she’s looking for. Posh ladies should be with refined gentlemen, not with guys like me.
Things between Michelle and me are guaranteed to be awkward. She might insist on finding out why I ended our kiss. If I wanted to tell her, I would. So, instead of heading back to her friend’s house, I choose to go to my car. I call Bryan and ask him to get Donny and meet me outside. I lean back against my seat, recalling tonight’s events. It’s got to be the most intense night I’ve had in months. My mind doesn’t linger on the terror of the blast. I have to block that thought out. It goes straight back to the moment that Michelle kissed me. And watching her stroll back to her friend’s front door doesn’t allow me to calm down. Her tight jeans are hugging her waist like a second skin.
Get back out and pick up where you left off.
The little voice is torturing me again. I drop my head onto my chest, because I can’t stand this anymore. Just then though, I feel a pair of eyes on me. A quick glance up and to the right confirms my suspicion. Michelle is staring at me, her hand gripping the golden doorknob. Before she disappears into the building, Donny and Bryan walk out the door.
“Damn…” I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut. “Come on, you two. Get moving.”
The drive back to the city means that I’ll have to put up with Bryan’s nasty comments. He and Donny can see right through me. He’ll understand something’s wrong within seconds. But Bryan’s sarcasm isn’t going to last long, and I can handle it, just like I’ve been doing since I met him. The bandage around Donny’s neck reminds me of the fact that we almost lost him tonight. Starting tomorrow, we’ll leave no stone unturned to find Sean Decker. That prick needs to pay for what he did.
Chapter Seven
Michelle
“You kissed him?!” Helena’s squeaky voice doesn’t surprise me. Her shock is understandable. Minutes ago, I was gossiping about Joe, believing he was someone who sold his body to well off homosexuals. “What were you thinking?”
“Relax, okay?” I request, keeping my tone within its usual registers. “It’s not like we had sex or anything. It was wonderful. He was tender; not too firm nor too demanding; but…” I pause. “He broke it off and wouldn’t say why. And by the way, he pressed his crotch against mine. He’s definitely not gay.”
“He had…”
“Trust me, scouts could have camped under there,” I interrupt her, my frustration adding speed and intensity to my voice.
“Interesting,” comments Helena, nodding at the same time. “Are you sure he’s not dating someone else?”
“Well, if he is, he’s doing a damn good job hiding her,” I retort, running my hand through my hair. “When I asked him why he stopped, he sounded annoyed, like I had done something I shouldn’t have.”
“Well, I can’t help you, honey,” she admits, her tone somewhat fainter. “We can speculate all night, but you don’t need that. What you need is a clear explanation.”
“That might be tricky,” I respond, sauntering across her living room. “I think it will take a while for me to see him again in the bar. Damn it!” I exclaim, slapping my forehead with the palm of my hand. “I’m such an idiot. I forgot to thank him for last night.”
“Creating scenarios of him in bed with other men must have been very distracting,” states Helena, sarcasm dripping from her tongue. “You said he’s got no manners. Where are yours?”
“Look, I screwed up, okay?” I lower my hand at chest height. “I told him about the house. He started talking about his past. The poor guy grew up in an orphanage. I felt for him. You know the rest.”
“Do you want my opinion?” Helena asks, pressing her lips together.
“Yes.”
“Don’t try to date him,” she says, her tone stiff, concern flashing in her brown eyes. “Even if he does explain himself – which I doubt he will, by the way – he doesn’t sound like boyfriend material to me. Okay, he looks phenomenal, but don’t let his looks fool you. You said he beat two guys senseless last night. Tonight, he almost got blown up. His friends told me to keep quiet about this. The exact words they used were: ‘If anyone asks, we were never here.’ I keep wondering why they’d say such a thing. I mean, what do they have to hide?”
“I don’t know, Helena,” I sigh, remembering the moment when Joe assaulted those two goons in the bar. “He’s no angel; I can say that much. But I wouldn’t be here talking to you if it hadn’t been for him.”
“I know,” Helena whispers, nodding in agreement. “He did a brave thing, and you should thank him for it the first chance you get. But please, don’t pursue him. God knows what he’s involved with.”
“I will ...thank him,” I assure, struggling to believe that I ever will get that chance. I’m a realist. The odds of him showing up at “90’s Rock”, in the near future at least, are very slim indeed. He didn’t appreciate my curiosity after our kiss. I don’t think he will change his mind anytime soon, if he does at all. I realize now that perhaps tonight might well be the last time my path crosses with Joe’s. Brooklyn is a large borough. He can always go to another bar without having to worry about an inquisitive barista like me.
Chapter Eight
Joe
“Get your ass down to Pier 45. Want to know more about last night.”
Eric’s text in the morning postpones my plans of finding Decker. That midget is going to be all over me. I have no problem telling him everything, but sometimes, I want to smack him hard enough to send his head spinning. His high-pitched voice sounds almost childish, but that’s not his worst flaw. Eric inherited the family business from his father, Thomas, back in 2009. His old man was good to me. He knew that loyalty should be rewarded, and he did reward me very often. Three-hundred here, five hundred there… The bonuses I got were more t
han a bus driver makes in a year. But, after he died, I pretty much kissed those rewards goodbye.
Eric has got to be the cheapest Don in history. He sends his maids to buy him cigarettes, and he doesn’t even let them keep the change. Mainly, though, what I hate about him is his experience. He just doesn’t have any. Back in the day, that little piece of shit never gave a rat’s ass about his father’s business. All he did was spend his daddy’s money in Monte Carlo, Dubai and all those fancy places he and his kind love so much. He used to party: up all night with whores; expensive booze and cocaine; and then post pictures of those parties on Facebook and Instagram. Of course, he made sure to leave out anything illegal.
The wind is blowing through my hair as I spot him and his goons by the pier. Children are chasing each other along the boardwalk. Their screams rise above their parents’ chatter. A few sailing boats are in the Hudson on that warm, late-August morning. To my surprise, I won’t be the first to tell Eric about what happened the night before. Donny and Bryan are already there. Eric is standing just a foot away from Donny, facing the river as he stares up at the bandage on his neck.
“Hell of a job,” he praises, pointing up at him.
“Good morning,” I mutter, my heavy footfalls leading me closer to him.
“Hey!” Eric cheers, shifting his gaze to me. “If it ain’t Joey! I’ve got a new handle for you, big man: Senna. Do you know who he was?”
“A Formula One legend,” I say, confusion spreading across my face. “What do I have to do with him?”
“The boys here were telling me about your driving last night,” he explains, a toothy grin bursting upon his thin lips. “They showed me a picture of your Camaro. How the fuck did you drive that thing? It’s a wreck.”
“Well, I did,” I shrug my shoulders, unwilling to get into any details.
“Don’t worry about the damage,” Eric urges, assuming a more serious tone. “I’ll cover it, just send me the bill. Now…” He pauses, sliding his shades down the bridge of his nose. “Bryan and Donny told me about the Ford that blew up behind you. They’re saying you saw who was behind the wheel.”
“Sean Decker,” I reveal the name without even waiting for him to pose the question. “I recognized his skinny ass, the moment he stepped out of that car.”
“Are you sure?” He insists, putting some force in his voice.
“Absolutely,” I declare to him, my tone steady. “I was just about to go out looking for him, when you texted me, boss.”
“You’d whack him without my consent?” Eric’s brows shoot up, his shrill voice piercing my ears.
“Of course not,” I claim, maintaining eye contact with him. “I’d rough him up first and then bring him to you.”
“Why the hell didn’t you go after him last night?” He asks me, his voice a little more than a whisper.
“Sorry, I was a little busy trying to save Donny,” I mutter, keeping my annoyance out of my tone.
“Two questions,” Eric says, raising and parting his index and middle fingers. “One: What the fuck were you doing up in North Haven? Two: Decker had to have been following you since you rolled out of the city. How come you didn’t notice him?”
His first question puts me in a tough position. Our plans for that bank had to be kept secret. They’re our way out of the organization. Still, that secret could send us to an early grave. Coming clean is my only option.
“Bryan suggested we rob the Citibank branch up there. We meant to hit the vault. We were going to tell you today,” I explain, throwing a quick glance over at my friends. “We were just doing some recon, when Decker pulled up behind us. Nobody followed us. I only saw that Ford in North Haven.”
“Nice initiative,” he praises, patting me on my forearm. “But North Haven is off limits. Certain friends of mine use those banks to store their valuables in their safety deposit boxes. What would they do if they found out that my crew stole them?”
“We could just take the money,” I propose, softening my voice. “Safety deposit boxes are tough to open anyway. They’d slow us down.”
“The answer’s still ‘no,’ Joey,” Eric clips out, narrowing his eyes up at me. “You want to rob a bank? Choose something closer. Brooklyn, Manhattan, Bronx, I don’t care. Stay away from North Haven, you got that?”
“Yeah,” I give a reluctant nod. “What about Decker? What do we do about him?”
“Look, kid…” he croaks, lifting both of his hands up to my shoulders. “You want blood. I get that, but taking Decker out is going to start a war we’re not prepared for. I’ll arrange a meet with Maltese, try to sort things out. In the meantime, don’t go anywhere near that prick.”
“He tried to blow us up!” I grumble my displeasure, my eyes hardening, blood pumping faster through my veins.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Eric takes on an authoritative tone, turning away from me. “Now, get the fuck out of here. All of you,” he adds, glaring up at Bryan first and then Donny. Sliding my hands into my pockets, I watch the Don moving towards the crowd, with his goons on either side as my friends stroll in my direction.
“You didn’t tell anybody about Citibank, did you?” I ask Bryan, suspicion creeping into my mind.
“No, man,” he claims, his voice coming out in a drawl. “You two are the only people who knew about it.”
“There was nobody behind us last night, boys. I checked the rearview mirror every couple of minutes or so. How did it reach Maltese’s ears?” I wonder, pursing my lips.
“He could have wired our apartments,” Bryan guesses, nodding at the same time. “Nothing else makes sense.”
“Check your places for bugs, I’ll do the same,” I advise. “Call me if you find anything.”
“Will do,” Donny assures me, his face stiff. I don’t agree with Bryan, although I don’t tell him that. We are low on the food chain. We’re expendable; should one of us get killed, he’ll be replaced the next day. No one’s going to give a damn. Why would a Don like Maltese go to such lengths to take out three lapdogs like us? Does he think we’re that valuable? No, he doesn’t. There is another explanation, but neither Bryan nor Donny wants to admit it. But, since I can’t prove it, I have to be patient until I find something that does.
Want More? Click here to continue Joe & Michelle’s story in Mob Ties: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 2)
Chapter Nine
Michelle
Daylight is beginning to fade when I arrive at the bar. Saturdays are by far the busiest nights. By the time we open, everything has to sparkle. Glasses, floors, even the rock star posters lining the walls have to be spotless.
I start taking the glasses out of the dishwasher. I arrange them on the counter in front of me and use a soft cloth to wipe any moisture off. Inevitably, my gaze lands on Joe’s table. Along with the memory of his enormous, gorgeous figure, come images of the night before. His kiss swept me off my feet. A few more seconds of that and he would have made my knees buckle. And after that? Oh, God… The mere thought of seeing that muscled body makes my core clench. I just wish there was a bed in my grandma’s place, so that I could throw him down on it and enjoy a night of passion with him. Helena’s speech helped me understand that dating Joe wasn’t a good idea. Maybe a hot, steamy night was all I would get from him, but even that seemed less likely than me taking a walk on the moon.
My dirty thoughts surprise me. I’ve known this guy for a while, I’ve always found him attractive, but I’ve never fantasized about him. It’s then that I realize why Helena got so mad after I told her about our kiss. She saw the effect it had on me. It had turned me on, maybe more than it should have. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it was so much more intense than anything else I’ve ever experienced. What’s even worse is the fact that it left me longing for more. I felt like a child who’d had her first ever taste of chocolate. I had tasted his sweet lips, and would have loved to have kept my mouth locked with his until my lips were swollen and sore.
Damn yo
u, Joe. What have you done to me? Snap out of it, Michelle. Yes, it was a fantastic kiss, but he doesn’t want anything more than that.
A double knock on the glass door zaps me back to reality. And the identity of the person making his way towards the bar strips me of the ability to speak. My knees are shaking, as if I’ve just seen a hungry predator in the middle of the jungle. Yet, this guy is not a beast. He’s the handsome man that’s been dominating my thoughts.
“Joe?!” I gasp out, a tall glass slipping from my hand. “What are you doing here? We’re not open yet.”
He doesn’t dignify my question with a response. Instead, he walks up to the fridge on my left, without even looking at me. He opens the door and grabs a beer, before moving around the counter. Hopping onto a stool, he slaps the cap off the bottle with the edge of the counter.
“Look, if this is about last night…”
“I’ve got a few things I want to say to you, so close your mouth and open your ears,” he interrupts, his voice firm, the cold look in his eyes startling me. “I’m not a nice man, Michelle. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of. You’re a good girl, you deserve better than me. So, forget about last night.”