Dirty Secrets

by Landish, Lauren

  I hit speed dial, waiting for Logan to pick up instead.

  “Yes?” His voice is stone-cold.

  “Um, hey, Logan. I am so sorry for any problem I might’ve caused. Did you or the guys get in trouble?”

  Logan chuckles darkly, and I can hear him shift around, probably sitting in his car or something. “Trouble? No, although Gavin feels like crap right now, even though he did exactly what he was supposed to do.” His words are double-edged, hitting home the point that I didn’t hold up my end of the deal. “Allie, gonna be honest. You scared us shitless.”

  That’s Logan, always straight to the point. “I know. And I’ll fix it, I promise. But I need you to do something for me tonight.”

  His scoff is pretty obvious, even through my phone. “You’re asking me for a favor, at midnight, after giving up my night off to chase you all over town? You got some big brass ones, Allie.”

  I startle, realization dawning. “How did you track me down? You didn’t follow me from the studio, and Dom said something about smoothies. How’d he know that?”

  I can’t see him, but I can almost hear the shrug in his words. “You need to discuss that with him. Some of it’s just that I’ve got skills. So, what did you want?”

  He’s back to all-business, his voice crisp and distant, not the sometimes slightly friendlier guy he’s been with me lately. I guess I deserve it after what I’ve put him through.

  “Can you watch him for me, Logan? When he left, he was cold, and I know it sounds crazy, but he’s not that man with me. Ever. And I’m scared for him tonight. Can you just make sure he’s okay?”

  He sighs, the sound staticky in the phone. “He’s fine. He’s tucked in for the night. Safe and sound. I promise.”

  His words reassure me and give me the tiniest sliver of hope that I might actually sleep.

  Chapter 14

  Dominick

  Settling into the rich leather chair behind my home office desk, I pick up the file folder that Logan hand-delivered an hour ago. I twist my head first one way, then the other, the pops satisfying as the crackles ripple down my spine, relaxing me.

  Before opening the file, I look at the picture. It’s strange, how the eyes are so similar, and there’s a hint of shared lineage in the jawline that I can see now. His deep brown eyes stare back at me from the matte paper, full of neutral apathy. No smile, no anger, just one of roughly a million soldiers, but this one is different, special. Not because of anything he’s done but because of who he is.

  Specialist Tyler David Bancroft, Junior. Also known as TJ . . . Tyler Junior.

  I reach over and pick up my tumbler of scotch, sipping at it as I study TJ’s file. He’s probably the apple of his daddy’s eye, I’d wager. More importantly, he’s the brother of my Allie.

  Last night did not go well. I was too angry, too hurt. As real as possible threats are, paranoia had let ugly possibilities brew in my mind. Though I think her brother might be the type to find some degree of respect in my actions, judging by the way he instantly protected her. He wasn’t quite as ruthless as he should have been. He did make a mistake . . . but he was willing to pull a gun on a stranger.

  It could have been worse. He could’ve been a weakling, one of the sheep that make up so many of the common man. Maybe throw out some bluster and then squeal in the corner when he’s pushed. The kind of man I couldn’t possibly respect.

  No, TJ is someone worthy of my attention, though the idea of going toe-to-toe with him over Allie should give me pause. But strangely enough, I find the idea of testing myself against him invigorating, as if I can prove myself worthy and earn her affection.

  I sigh at the fanciful ideology and return to studying my target. TJ is currently on leave from the Army for three months pending a transfer. Seems TJ somehow timed his rotation just right and figured out a way to get himself three months of time off before going off to be a chopper pilot. Smart boy.

  Looking over his service record, all his reports show him to be an excellent soldier, intelligent and well-equipped to both do what he’s told and think on his feet. The letter from his platoon leader said he was only recommending TJ because he knew he’d lose him one way or another. Either to Warrant Officer school or to his being snatched away to be a Sergeant in another unit. So professionally, he’s stellar.

  Personally, though, his life seems to be falling apart. While no papers have been filed, it seems his wife spent his year overseas getting frisky.

  After finding out, TJ waited for his unit to get back from the ‘Stan before going on leave, and he’s currently got a room in a hotel across town on the South Side, Pete’s territory.

  Everything in his backstory corresponds with the matching report I have on Allison. Father and mother happily married, well-educated, and live in the suburbs two states away.

  But the things I really need to know aren’t on these pages, though I’m going to give my people credit. It’s a good start. There are so many intangibles about someone, like how Allie’s pre-employment report didn’t speak to her inappropriate sense of humor, her work ethic . . . her ability to make a desolate man feel alive again. I suspect there are key factors missing from TJ’s report too.

  And I don’t like missing information.

  My entire empire is built on knowing things before others and reading people better than anyone else. It’s what allows me to be in place before my opponents know what happened. It gives me strength.

  While this file tells me a lot, it doesn’t tell me everything. And until I know, I’m going to have to consider TJ a problem.

  A worthy adversary, perhaps . . . but regardless of the matter, he’s a danger to what I’m building with Allie.

  I close his file and set it on the side of my desk, thinking for a moment until the sound of feet thundering down the hall to my office catches my attention. I’m reaching for the pistol I keep under my lap drawer when the door opens, and my hand relaxes as I see Allie burst through like the world’s cutest rhino charge.

  “Dominick!” Allie says loudly.

  At the same time, one of the cleaning staff pushes past and says at the same time, “I’m sorry, sir.” Fiona’s saucy accent blares over Allie’s words, cutting her off. “I told Miss Bancroft she was welcome but to please wait for someone to announce her.”

  Allie’s glare captures my attention and I wave Fiona off. She’s new. She doesn’t know Allie has free reign to come and go as she pleases. Fiona nods, shutting the door quietly behind her, leaving me alone with Allie.

  She’s fuming, her hands planted on her hips and looking so adorable that I have to grin at her gall before remembering that I’m supposed to be mad at her too. Quickly, I rearrange my features into the coolly collected sneer I typically use to show disappointment.

  Allie, of course, is my opposite, and since she’s riled up too, her madness comes out in a flurry of energetic pacing, her skirt flexing and thigh muscles bunching in ways that leave my cock tingling in my pants.

  “So, I spent the night thinking, and some of breakfast too . . . TJ says hi, by the way.”

  Sarcasm coats her last words, and she tosses her hair. I want to pull it to my nose and see if it smells as heavenly as it gleams in the light of my office.

  Instead, I lift one eyebrow warily. “I see.”

  “Well, okay, he didn’t say that exactly, but he didn’t stop me when I told him where I was going, so considering the Mexican standoff we had rolling last night, I’m choosing to call that a win, Mister. Anyway, that can’t happen again. Not the gun pulling, not the scary drama where you think something bad happened just because I went for a smoothie, and not the stomping off angry deal. Okay, that one was a bit exaggerated. You definitely didn’t stomp off, but you get my point.”

  Honestly, I have virtually no idea what she’s talking about. All I can think about is the way her frenetic energy envelops me, the flush on her cheeks making me want to cup her face, the rapid-fire pace of her words making me want to kiss her to shut her up.


  She stops, her word salad finally coming to a stop as she stares at me, and after a moment, I decipher enough to respond. “And what do you propose to do about this?”

  I’m genuinely curious what she thinks is the appropriate response to everything that’s gone on. To me, the best-case scenario would be for her to do as she’s told and allow my guards to be with her at all times, for my sanity and her safety. For her to submit to being mine completely.

  Not tamed. She’s too wild, too beautifully unique to ever be tamed, and that would dim her gloriousness. But a little . . . domestication? Constraint? Maybe.

  My lips tilt up at the idea of a tame Allie, not even able to picture what such a creature would look like. She’s like a lioness. Sure, you can stick one in a cage, but that’s cruel. If you are going to have one, let it have safety barriers but plenty of area to roam.

  The question is . . . will Allie be willing to live within the barriers I’ve built for myself as well? Because if she’s a lioness, I’m a lion, the pride leader.

  “I propose transparency,” she replies. “Again, I’m willing to admit that I was wrong. You were too,” she says, getting a hit in, but I don’t stop her roll. “And yes, I realize this is eerily similar to my guard issue before, though that one was accidental, a reasonable assumption on my part, and this one was thoughtlessly intentional. But I’ll come back to that.”

  She holds up one finger, her eyes flashing and her head shaking back and forth. “Wait, Dom. Let’s put our cards on the table, shall we?”

  “I don’t play poker, but I do own an underground casino, so why not?”

  My unusual half-joke gets a small smile from Allie, who twists and sits down on the edge of my desk, which is amazingly cute.

  “Fine. Here goes . . . I like you a whole fucking lot. And I don’t say that lightly or to many people. I’m excited to get to know you more. So, I am sorry. Truly sorry for scaring you.”

  I inhale deeply through my nose, surprised at how soothing her words are to my soul. “Apology accepted.”

  She quirks her eyebrow, planting a hand on my desk blotter and leaning down, staring into my eyes.

  “And?”

  I lean forward. “And what?”

  Allie sighs dramatically, not seeing my subtle sarcasm, and hops off my desk, taking two paces before turning and throwing her hands in the air. “And this is the part where you apologize for sitting in my apartment like a creeper. It’s also where you explain how you got in my apartment in the first place and how you knew I’d been ‘sipping smoothies’ when I didn’t have anyone with me when I left the studio.”

  I drum my fingers on the desk, not wanting to lie to her but afraid to tell her the full truth.

  My hesitation is apparent, and she comes back around to sit on my desk again, looking into my eyes. “Transparency, Dominick. You want it from me, you need to give it back.”

  She’s throwing down a gauntlet, and I know that I could lose her in this moment if I don’t share some hard truths.

  “I can’t give you that in all things, nor would you want it, Allie,” I tell her with a shake of my head. “There are things that if you knew them, they could put you in danger. But I will say that putting a tracker in someone’s phone is rather easy. Logan followed it and watched you for me until I could get back to town.”

  “And getting in my apartment?”

  That one’s easy. “Your doorknob was replaced a few months back, remember? The locksmith gave me a copy of the key.”

  “He just gave you a key?” she asks, looking horrified. “What the hell? You could’ve been a fucking serial killer, for all he knew!”

  I clear my throat, realizing again just how . . . innocent Allie is. Secrets of bad men aren’t something she’s used to. The biggest one, of course, is sitting in this very chair.

  “I’m quite certain he knew exactly who I was.”

  “Oh,” she says quietly, nodding. “Okay, so to surmise, the locksmith gave the friendly local Mob boss a key to my apartment, you’re tracking my phone, and you have guards following me everywhere.”

  She stops, then looks up like she’s not believing the words that are coming out of her mouth. “You know that’s crazy, right? It’s like some tier-one stalker shit, Dominick. You’re freaking me out.”

  There is honesty in her voice, but I can tell that she’s only saying it because she thinks she should be nervous about it. Her heart is racing, but it’s not in fear.

  Or at least, not totally in fear.

  I reach up, tracing the flutter in her neck, enjoying the satin of her skin beneath my palm. Unconsciously, she tilts her head, giving me more access and proving me right. She’s not scared of me. She simply thinks she should be.

  “Transparency,” I whisper, my voice hushed, barely audible in my soundproofed office. “I like you a lot too, Allison. More than like, though I won’t say it now and scare you away. Because I can see that all that I’ve done scares you, but the words I could say scare us both.”

  She nods, but in her eyes, I see the same hunger for them that I have. “Dom—”

  “But my life comes with a certain degree of violence and unpleasantness, and the idea that you might get caught up in that terrifies and saddens me,” I continue softly, stroking her cheek. “The night of the shooting, you were given a small taste of the world I live with every day. So for doing what I’ve done, I won’t apologize. For not telling you, yes, I do apologize. But for us to take this further, to explore this . . .”

  I let my hand slip down her neck, a finger tracing along her collarbone, and delight at the goosebumps that rise against my touch. Her eyes flutter closed, and she lets out a soft sigh.

  I wait until her eyes open again, this time dark with desire, but I have to hold back a little. She must know.

  “There will be rules, and you need to follow them.”

  Her eyes flash, and she pulls back, breaking our contact as she looks at me warily. “Rules? I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

  I chuckle and lean back in my chair. “I’m sure you don’t, but you must follow them or . . . you must leave. For your own safety.”

  She doesn’t like the ultimatum one bit. But I can’t waver on this. I can’t allow any negotiation.

  “Perhaps you’d like to hear the rules before you decide?”

  She nods once, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Rule number one. You need to stay where you’re supposed to be at all times. If there is a change in plans, you notify me or the guard watching you. I’m not trying to stop you from going anywhere you want, but someone will know where you are at all times.

  “Rule number two. Your phone is to be turned on, charged, and with you at all times so that you can be tracked.

  “Rule number three. Trust that I have your wellbeing in mind, and if there is a time where I ask you to go somewhere or do something that sounds wrong, you do as I instruct you to. I can’t have you questioning me in the moment if there’s a security risk. I can explain later, but in the moment, go without question.”

  It’s basically things we’ve already discussed, just laid much barer with no pretty words and devoid of modifiers like please and thank you. These are non-negotiable and she must understand that.

  She looks at me with sass in her eyes. “And if I agree to these terms, do they hold true for you as well? Are you going to tell me your whereabouts every hour of the day and let me track your phone and such?”

  She already knows the answer to her questions, but I still lay it out. “No. I’ll be as open and honest with you as I can be, but knowing everything would be dangerous information. But you can trust that I’m being as safe as possible while doing my job.”

  “Can I trust that you’re not out fucking some woman in every corner of the city?” she asks, her words pouty with disappointment at turnabout not being fair play. I force her legs to spread open for me, her knees laid back against the edge of my desk, and harshly knead her honeyed thighs, di
mpling the skin with my rough handling.

  She gasps, but she lets me hold her there, not fighting to close her thighs against me. “You can trust that the only woman I have any interest in—have had interest in—is right here in front of me.”

  I lean in, inhaling her spicy floral scent before nuzzling against the silk covering her mound. Allie gasps, running her hand through my hair, urging me closer.

  “This pretty pussy of yours is all I want . . . to eat, to fuck, to own.”

  She groans above me, my dirty words igniting her passion as much as my closeness. Her hips roll, desperate to get closer to my mouth. Running my thumb down the inside of her leg, I rub her through the flimsy fabric, enjoying the slickness as her panties become drenched. “So sweet, so mine.”

  Suddenly, she sits up, palm to my shoulder, pushing me away and panting, “Wait, wait.”

  I growl at her like a toddler throwing a tantrum after having his favorite toy taken away and hold myself steady, not letting her move me from the cradle of her legs.

  “Dom . . . remember I said I’d come back to my messing up again?”

  I barely nod, knowing that this is important but at the same time not wanting to handle it right this moment.

  My words vibrate against her skin. “Do you want to remind me of that now, Allison?”

  I lick a long line up the crease where her leg meets her body, nibbling along the edge of her panties, and Allie whimpers but keeps her voice steady and slightly stronger than before.

  “Yes, I do. Do you remember what you did when I was bad then?”

  I freeze, my eyes meeting hers and seeing the meaning in their depths. She’s asking for it, not in so many words, but she’s giving me the opening to spank her ass.

  The power in that is not in the actual contact of my hand on her skin but in the trust she places in me to allow it. The gift of what she’s offering floors me.