Dirty Secrets

by Landish, Lauren

  I sort of feel bad for the kid. He didn’t do anything wrong today. In fact, he was almost Boy Scout polite the whole time.

  A moment later, I hear applause from the reception area, and Gavin comes back in, his eyes ignoring the ruckus behind him as he checks on me. “You okay?”

  I nod, realizing that it’s probably Donna cheering him on. “Don’t worry, guy was just a dick. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

  Gavin shakes his head, rubbing at his neck. “Yeah, that part sucks about my job. My opinion, you girls shouldn’t have to deal with shit like that. Hey, uh . . . so you’re here for the rest of the day, right? Cleaning and prepping?”

  “Yeah . . . why?” I ask suspiciously.

  Gavin grins, shaking his head furiously. “Oh, no reason. Like you said . . . I was here until the crew left, then you’d be on your own until your go-home detail comes. That’s good, right? I mean, this place is busy enough and you’ll stay inside?”

  He’s talking to me but taking baby steps toward the door and glancing behind him like he needs to go all of a sudden. I put my hands on my hips, trying to look intimidating, but I suspect that Gavin is a lot harder to scare than I’d first thought.

  He is a big badass underneath his affable exterior, apparently, and I have a feeling about what he’s about to go do. He’s about to go teach Mr. Bayer a lesson.

  “Go ahead and go. But do me a favor. If you have to do it, just scare him, maybe give him a little lesson in appropriate customer service. Make sure he knows the proper way to treat a lady next time. Can we stop it there though?”

  He’s taken aback at first by my knowing what he’s up to, then he breaks out into a disarmingly boyish grin, and he flashes me a thumbs-up.

  “Gotcha. Although I don’t know what you’re talking about, Allie. I just have some errands to run this afternoon. Nothing to be concerned about.”

  With a wink, he’s out the door.

  Donna’s already got her next class in warmups, so I avoid any ribbing from her as I retreat to my studio, locking the door and grinning to myself. Assholes like Bayer will always exist, but good guys like Gavin do too, and hopefully, the balance will always tip that way.

  An hour flashes by as I do my last-chance cleaning. Slowly but surely, the space is coming together, I think with a smile. Warmth bubbles up inside me. It feels like . . . pride.

  I’m doing something scary, something that takes some major courage, but I’m chasing those damn butterflies in my gut like they’re going to lead me someplace awesome. Because I think this whole setup really could change my life for the better in so many ways.

  Actually, I feel like I’m on the precipice of a lot of changes. Professionally, personally, it’s like everything is right on the verge of falling into place. With just a little nudge here and a little hip bump there, I’ll be better than I ever would’ve thought possible just a few short years ago when everything seemed so bleak.

  Excited at the prospect and at my excellent use of cleaning time, I decide to get started on polishing the chrome finish of the newly-installed poles. Each one will take me hours to get ready for class, removing the greasy ick of the factory and the installation, and especially Mr. Bayer’s bad juju vibes on them.

  I head to the front, pausing for a moment to remember that I’m supposed to stay inside like Gavin said. But the special cleaner I need is in my car.

  Screw it. I’m grown-ass woman who can sure as fuck walk across the parking lot without permission. It’s something I’ve done thousands of times. No biggie.

  Feeling my sass, even at such a little thing, feels good, a tiny bit of wild rebellion, but a small piece of me realizes how crazy that sounds.

  I’m halfway down the sidewalk when I hear a deep voice behind me.

  “Allie?”

  I turn, recognizing the voice instantly, but seeing him standing here in front of me is an unexpected surprise. I’m sure a few birds are startled at my high-pitched squeal of delight as I run toward him, launching myself into his arms with the full trust that he’ll catch me.

  “Oh, my God!” I exclaim. He spins us once with the momentum of my leap and then sets me on my feet, engulfing me in a big hug. Once upon a time, he was the same height I was, but now he’s easily a foot taller and twice as wide as I am. Still buried in the hug, I whisper into his chest, “TJ! Holy shit! What are you doing here?”

  He sighs, patting my back, and sets me down on the sidewalk. “Long story, Allie-Gator. Wanna go to dinner and I’ll tell you all about it?”

  “Of course!” I say with a laugh and a grin. He drops down in front of me, and like so many times before, I hop on piggy-back style.

  “Do you need to lock up?” he asks.

  I stare at him, thinking I’ll wake up and this will be a dream any second, but I shake my head. “No, the owner’s got another class going.”

  Without another question, he gallops down the sidewalk, me laughing at his silly antics. Just like before. Just like always. Unceremoniously, he plops me in the seat of his truck, and we roar out of the lot.

  Max

  “Keep going, kids. Hold for eight, seven, six . . .” I say, when suddenly, the parking lot quiet is broken by a scream.

  Screams aren’t really standard fare around here, not like the neighborhood back home. Around here, it’s all proper manners and nice neighbors, and my last class is usually just us and the crickets chirping as the sun goes down.

  But I’ve got responsibilities and duties now, so I turn, instantly on alert and ready to protect my charges against whatever incoming assault may be going down.

  I realize as I look out the gym’s open bay door that it’s more squeal than scream, a happy, exuberant sound. Hell, if this were an adult class with my normal assortment of death metal blaring, I probably wouldn’t have heard it at all. I scan the lot and see Allie running down the sidewalk toward a tall guy with a big smile on her face.

  My brows knit together as I watch her jump into his arms, her legs wrapping around his torso and their arms encircling each other. One spin later, she’s back on solid ground but they’re still hugging it out.

  They’re too far away for me to hear them, but she seems happy to see the guy, whoever he is. Even from here, I can see he’s a big motherfucker, not like Dalton and me, but a tall, broad guy who carries himself with a sense that he could take care of business.

  I turn back to my students, who have decided that I’m done counting. They’re sitting on the ground, their squat positions given up. Kids . . . they’ll work their asses off on the fun stuff, but champions aren’t made of the fun stuff.

  “All right, guys,” I announce, going over to the boxing timer on the wall and flipping the switches. “Good job. One more cycle and we’ll call it a night. Burpees, pushups, and sprawls. One minute each.”

  They groan a bit but get to work. That’s the good thing about the youngsters . . . nearly endless energy. As the timer goes, I watch their burpees but hear laughter from behind me.

  I turn, keeping an eye on the kids but watching as the guy deposits Allie into a truck and they go speeding out of the lot. It’s not until the kids are halfway through their one-minute sprawls that I put it together that he looked nothing like Dominick’s usual guys.

  I’ve met Logan, and he’s even been hanging out in the gym with us a bit. He’s a monster of a guy, and I’ve seen another guy escorting Allie out sometimes too. And both of them, when they’re on chaperone detail, are respectfully distant, dressed in fancy clothes, and on guard as they give her coverage similar to the Secret Service.

  Allie seemed comfortable, but something is uneasy in my gut. That guy just isn’t the usual, and it feels off for some reason.

  Logan casually asked Dalton and me to keep an eye out for her, nothing official, but just a friendly request. Thing is . . . Logan isn’t going to just make a friendly request like that for no reason. I know who he works for, who Allie belongs to, and the fight game isn’t so far from its old Mafia roots tha
t you don’t get to know a few names around the streets. This feels like something I should call about.

  Getting all up in Dominick Angeline’s business is the absolute last thing I want to do. But not calling him when I see something out of the norm sounds like a sure-fire way to get my ass kicked. Or worse.

  I let the kids finish their drills and give them a quick dismissal before heading for my desk, where my cellphone sits like a package of dynamite waiting to make the call I’m dreading.

  Chapter 12

  Dominick

  “Say that again, slowly,” I tell Logan, my knuckles rapping on my steering wheel in a measured beat to try and calm myself down. I heard every word he said the first time. I just don’t want to believe it.

  What is she doing? What is she thinking, leaving the studio off schedule with an unvetted man?

  “Max called. Said he saw Allie run toward a guy, hopped into his arms with a smile on her face. They hugged and then he carried her to a truck and they left.”

  His report is objective, no judgments, no emotion, just the facts.

  “I’m already in the car, heading back. Stay close and make sure she’s safe, but do not engage. Understood?”

  Logan accepts the order evenly, even though I’m probably interrupting his evening off. “Of course, Sir. I’ll be in touch.”

  As soon as the call disconnects, I press the accelerator on my Mercedes, speeding up a little. I open the tracking app and see the green dot that tells me where she is. Frustratingly, it doesn’t tell me if she’s okay, but knowing her location gives me the tiniest sliver of reassurance. But it still doesn’t answer the questions I have.

  My mind races to every possible scenario . . . has she been kidnapped because of her importance to me? If someone thinks to use her as a pawn against me, I would readily slash, burn, and destroy everyone and everything involved. I would tear this city to pieces before anything truly damaging could happen to her.

  The thought of what could be happening to Allie makes a knot of dread form in my gut.

  The timing seems oddly convenient as well. The majority of my time is spent in East Robinsville, never more than a half hour from her side.

  Today is the rare break from my routine as I left town on a short road trip to pay my old friend Silas a visit. It’s too opportunistic to be coincidence, and I wonder if perhaps his Eagle Raiders had something to do with this.

  But for what purpose? To what end? I seriously doubt they want a war.

  I evaluate everything I know about Silas and his Eagle Raiders, and I can’t find a path that makes sense for that case. Silas is much more straightforward, a product of the open road. When he comes for someone, he’s about as subtle as one of his unmuffled Harleys rolling down the street at full-throttle.

  So, if not Silas, then who? I think through what little I know.

  It seems she knew the man and that her leaving wasn’t against her will. Could the man be an old lover? If it’s something more mundane like an ex, I’ll have to handle her messy emotions. Because her leaving me is no longer an option. She is mine, body, mind, and soul. I won’t allow any other possibility.

  My Mercedes purrs in contrast to the loud thoughts in my head, a technological ghost gliding over the miles of asphalt, relatively silent death coming, if need be. I still don’t know what I’m going to do except that I’ll try to remain calm. But if someone has taken my Allie, whether they be an ex who needs a lesson by castration, an enemy who needs a lesson in death, or . . .

  There is another possibility.

  Sure. There’s a chance she just went willingly with a friend, although the blatant disregard for the reasonable protocol we’ve established would certainly warrant another discussion. And maybe a spanking.

  One that she would not enjoy quite as much as the last. I’ll never lay a hand on her in anger, but she needs to understand that her safety is of utmost importance to me. If a bit of pinkened skin and a sore ass get that message into her beautiful brain, then so be it.

  But I have to hope that she is smarter than that, that she understands how dangerous the city can be for her and wouldn’t go traipsing around unescorted after we’d agreed to chaperones for her safety.

  My phone rings again, and I have a moment of hope that it is her, but the name flashing on the screen isn’t hers.

  “Yes.”

  Logan’s voice comes through the speakers. “Sir, I’ve got eyes on her in a food truck park. Currently, she’s sitting on the tailgate with the unknown male. They purchased some smoothies and a burrito and have been talking ever since. She does not appear to be in distress.”

  Cold fury runs through my body, every muscle tensing. She’s sitting, happy as a lark, with another man while I consider the awful things that might be happening to her if she’d been kidnapped.

  Every bit of my being demands that I swoop into that food truck lot and grab her up, take her home, and demand an explanation. But a lightning-fast analysis tells me that without a doubt, it’s the wrong move.

  First, by showing Allie just how much of a possessive asshole I am. I’m already walking a fine line with that, I know. I need her to understand that she’s as precious as diamonds and as necessary as air to me without coming off as a suffocating tyrant.

  Secondly, there could be implications within my work. A public showing of her power over me, her disregard for basic rules, and that she is valuable to me would paint our relationship in a light there would be no recovering from. Word would spread, and she would be a constant weakness in my stronghold, an ever-present target for those who wish me harm.

  As disappointed as I am, Allie is who she is . . . unpredictable, uncaged, and prone to flights of fancy. It both draws me to her and disturbs me. She is okay, totally safe with Logan observing her, and under no duress with her current company.

  No, I’m the only one under strain in this situation, apparently, but I can withstand it.

  I make a decision, one that will be the best move on both fronts. “Stay on her but out of sight. I’m going to her apartment.”

  “Understood,” Logan says before clearing his throat. “And sir, I’m sorry.”

  The line goes dead, him hanging up on me this time, something that I normally would not be pleased with, but I’m too caught up in Allie to care. His words give me more of an answer as to his assessment than anything else has tonight.

  I get to Allie’s apartment and use my key, the one that I had copied months ago. Sitting in the dark of her living room, surrounded by the spicy floral scent of her perfume, I wait.

  Logan sends me a photo he surreptitiously took of the two of them. The man does appear tall and broad, as Max reported, his hair shaggily grown out and in need of a trim, his skin sun-bronzed and faintly lined, putting his age close to Allie’s but his life significantly harder than hers.

  They look cozy, familiar in the picture. It angers me anew, and I trace her smile thoughtfully.

  Could I let her go? If she truly doesn’t care for me other than for sex, could I just let her walk out of my life?

  No. I can never hurt her, but Allie’s leaving my life would be worse than having my heart ripped out.

  Logan sends me a text message. It seems she’s coming straight here, with him. My eyes glare at the green dot on my screen, watching it move closer and closer.

  It’s not long before I hear the shuffle of footsteps on the hall tile outside and take a deep breath.

  Showtime.

  The door opens, the hallway light silhouetting the two of them for a brief moment before she flicks on the light.

  “Allison,” I say simply.

  My voice is a harsh rumble.

  Faster than I would’ve given the man credit for, he shoves Allie behind him, pulling a gun from his waistband. A tiny seed of approval at his protectiveness tries to take root, but I can’t accept that he is protecting her from me.

  From me?

  From the man who has protected her for months, even at the detriment to my own
sanity?

  She gasps in alarmed surprise, but when she realizes who’s sitting in her living room, the fire in her eyes is half relief and half anger.

  “What the fuck, Dominick? What in the . . . you scared the shit out of me!”

  The man’s appraising gaze never leaves me, his hand steady on the gun. “You know this guy, Allie?”

  She rolls her eyes, carefully putting a hand on his wrist. “Yeah, he’s my . . . Dominick. Put the gun down, TJ. Why the hell do you even have that?”

  But he doesn’t lower the gun, smartly still reading me as a threat regardless of Allie’s placating touch. “You gave this fucker a key?”

  Allie’s eyes whip to mine, and I take the chance of looking away from the armed man to give her a look, silently asking, Really? She presses her lips together in defeat and pushes harder on his wrist.

  “Seriously, just put the gun down, TJ.”

  He slowly lowers the piece, and I rise from the couch just as slowly, stepping closer to Allie. “You missed your detail. Seems you’ve been running around town with an unknown male, Allison.”

  Her eyes flare, and in my use of her full name and formal tone, she realizes just how much she’s scared me and pissed me off. In a tumble, her apology rushes out in one long breath.

  “Oh, fuck! I didn’t think. I just got so excited about TJ being here. I’m so sorry. Oh, introductions would probably help now that we’re not shooting anyone or scaring the shit out of them. TJ, this is Dominick. Dominick, this is TJ.”

  I pause, my eyes flickering back and forth from Allie to TJ. He doesn’t move, and while he’s lowered his piece, this close, I can see it’s a decent little Smith & Wesson.

  “So I’ve surmised. What I don’t know is who TJ is to you, Allie.”

  She flushes and rubs behind her ear as she glances at him, and he lifts a brow slightly in a way that I’ve seen across from me at breakfast for the past few days, telling me the answer even before the words come out.

  “TJ’s my brother.”

  In an instant, my world is set right once again.