Bound

by Zoey Parker

  Her lips parted, and they kissed deeply, hungrily, like they’d been lovers for eternity. He pumped his finger in and out of her, slipping in a second finger. She rocked against him, imperceptibly. Sam yanked on his bottom lip with her teeth, and that was the reminder he needed.

  This was work. Not a fuck fest. He’d indulged too much.

  He ripped himself away, pulling his hand out from beneath her skirt, trying not to let it show how frazzled she’d left him. How much he wanted it too. His cock pulsed against the waistband of his pants. He needed to cool it if he planned on sauntering out of here without embarrassing himself.

  “Why’d you stop?” she asked. “I thought we were settling my dad’s debt.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

  “This is just a warning,” Trent said, releasing her hands. “Now you go back to your old man and let him know we’re serious. You tell him Trent paid you a visit. If he can’t pay up, he’s gonna have to settle somehow. And next time, it might be a lot worse than his daughter getting felt up at the bar.”

  Sam’s gaze darkened. She rubbed her wrist where he’d restrained her.

  “You guys are a bunch of loons,” she snapped. “My dad has nothing left. And going after his family isn’t going to settle anything.”

  Trent ground his jaw, pushing to stand up. He swept his gaze around the bar, taking the pulse of his surroundings since he’d let himself slip a little too far into la-la land with this one. But dammit, the sexy break had been nice. He wanted to drill her up against a wall, fuck her so hard neither of them could walk afterward. He’d already gotten a taste of that pussy. Now he just wanted more.

  But this was business. A well-timed threat to the family when debts became outstanding. That usually jostled loose some of the money owed, but only time would tell if he needed to make another visit to the Black family.

  And if he did, he had an idea of where he’d be starting.

  “Talk to your old man,” Trent said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His fingers tingled, the ones he shoved inside her. When she looked up at him, with that sexy pout full of determination, he forced himself to rip his gaze away. “Or else you’ll be seeing me again.”

  He strode out of the bar, his cock throbbing. When he pushed out into the cool fall evening, the chilly blast helped him refocus.

  Sam Black was a job. He would need to remember that.

  Chapter Three

  Sam sat in the booth for what felt like an eternity after Trent left. Chest heaving. Mind racing. Pussy pulsing.

  The man had threatened her. She reminded herself of that as she attempted to get herself under control. Yes, he was scary. Yes, he was foreboding. But that body? That instant spark and sizzle that had raced through her, like he was a match to her open flame? It was hard to overlook it… even in the name of threats.

  She focused on finishing her burger and getting out of there. Only after she’d paid, and she was hurrying head-down through the chilly night air back to her apartment, did the shock finally hit her.

  Emotion welled up inside her, the reality of the situation finally frothing to life. Her dad was in trouble, which meant his entire family was in trouble. Trent might just be the first string of a really heavily populated team of men looking to wring the Blacks for all they were worth. She shivered, racing into her apartment. It was hard to imagine what might come next. How bad it might get.

  If she enjoyed Trent putting the pressure on her, then she could only imagine that ensuing visits would be less enjoyable.

  She raced up the stairs to her second-story apartment, hands shaking as she opened the door. She shut herself inside, rested against the door, and then deadbolted it. Who knew what else to expect? Trent had found her inside that bar. It could be just as easy for one of them to find her at her apartment. Or even find their way inside her apartment.

  Without shedding her coat, Sam sunk into the armchair by the door. She always prided herself on a cozy, if somewhat small, welcoming apartment. She needed that more than ever this evening. She gnawed on her bottom lip waiting for her dad to pick up.

  “Sammy?”

  “Hey, Dad.” She took a deep breath, wondering where to begin. She hadn’t even prepared an opening. “Uh… we have a problem.”

  “What’s wrong, bug?”

  His normal pet name for her didn’t do much to soothe her. In fact, ever since his gambling addiction had come to light, she’d been struggling to reconcile this new version of her father. Someone who had hidden an entire secret world from his family. Someone who had piddled away his life savings, and every last vestige of security they had. Someone who’d gotten mixed up with the Russian mafia, and now had hired grunts seeking her out for payback. Who even are you anymore, Dad?

  “Someone came after me today,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Someone connected to the Sokolovs. His name was Trent. He roughed me up.”

  “Jesus. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.” She didn’t need to add the part where she kind of liked it. That was neither here nor there. “But he threatened me.”

  “What else did he say to you?”

  “He told me to tell you that Trent had visited me. They want their money, Dad. And if this is the beginning of their harassment…” She trailed off, not needing to finish her thought. Their lives had been a shit storm since her dad’s secret had come out. He and her mother were teetering on divorce as it was. This would surely deliver the final blow to their flimsy marriage.

  “God, Sam.” A long, rattling sigh emanated from the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I never intended—” His voice caught.

  Sam frowned. A hiccup came through the phone. Her father was crying. Emotion cinched her throat.

  “Dad—” she started.

  “No. This is my fault. I just wish there was some other way to pay them back. They want money, but I don’t have any.”

  Her and Trent’s scandalous moments in the booth at On The Rocks came back to her. She clenched her thighs together. She wouldn’t offer herself up like some sort of object. A way to pay back a debt. No matter how hot Trent was, she wouldn’t use her body to atone for her father’s mistakes.

  “Don’t you have any favors to call in?” she asked. “Any emergency loans you could take out?”

  His tired laugh told her what she needed to know. “I owe way more than I could lend out, bug.”

  Sam sighed, raking a hand through her hair. “So what? We’re just supposed to live in fear now? For the rest of our lives?”

  “I’m working on a solution,” her dad said, but his voice strained at the edges, betraying the hopelessness of the situation.

  Sam couldn’t stop the spiteful laugh that burst out of her. “Yeah. Well, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  “Bug—”

  She swiped the phone off. Anger had consumed her. There was no use trying to hash things out now. She just wanted to scream, but no amount of screaming would pull her family out from this unsavory predicament.

  As if on cue, her fat tabby, Boswell, came sauntering out from the kitchen. Boswell seemed to know exactly when Sam needed reinforcements. Or when she had new snacks. Or when she was almost asleep. They were all cues to come bother her.

  “Hey, Bozzy,” she said with a sigh. She slumped back onto her couch as Boswell leaped onto the armrest, his purring motor already in full force. “What are we gonna do now?”

  Boswell didn’t have the answers. Nobody had the answers. All that she could do now was sit back and wait for something to happen. And the not knowing was what angered her the most. It would be one thing if all she had to look forward to again were a surprise visit from Trent. That, at least, she could handle. But what if the Sokolovs sent more cronies? Worse guys? Stricter punishment? What if they showed up to her work?

  Sam had fought long and hard to earn her own way in her adult life. Outside of her father’s sphere of influence, the crisis center where she worked as a therapist was one of the fe
w things in life she had earned on her own. Even though the work could be grueling at times, it wasn’t something she wanted to give up. Not any time soon. And least of all because of some debt her dad owed.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as her mind took a running leap for the worst-case scenarios. Her dad was no help. Her mother and older sister were equally as vulnerable as she was.

  As she ran her fingers through Boswell’s orange fur, she did her best to relax. To imagine this as just another evening at home.

  But when the memory of Trent’s fingers buried deep inside her refused to dissipate, she knew that this was far from a regular evening at home.

  Chapter Four

  Trent spent the rest of his evening in a daze. By the time he headed back to the Sokolov headquarters, a squat series of warehouses on the abandoned industrial end of town, he still had his head in the clouds. Something about Sam had pushed him off center. Couldn’t get her out of his mind, even when he fought to think about damn near everything else.

  His boots scuffed on the swept cement floor leading to Jacobi Sokolov’s office. The white light from the single bulb hanging over his desk spilled out from the office into the hallway. Some nights, it was the only light in the building. Other nights, this place was lit up like a Christmas tree with weapons deals, pick ups, underground fights and more.

  “Jay.” Trent rapped his knuckles on the doorframe after he came upon his boss’ door.

  Really, Jacobi wasn’t Trent’s direct boss. He was the boss’ son, which meant that Jacobi was as good as his boss, but sometimes, more like a brother. He was only a few years older than Trent. His seat creaked as he turned to look at Trent from behind his desk, the chestnut brown sweep of his hair falling over his forehead.

  “Hey. You’re late.”

  “Yeah, took a little walk after the last gig.” Because after getting a taste of Sam’s slick pussy, he needed more than a walk. “But I’m here for the check-in.”

  Jacobi nodded, gathering up some papers that were spread out before him. “Good. There’s a pretty big gig up next for you. A home visit.”

  Trent’s mind went immediately to Sam Black. Maybe he could visit her home. Get to know that blonde beauty a little bit more. In all the ways available to him.

  “But first,” Jacobi said, stacking up the folders he’d shoved papers into, “let’s hear about the Black visit.”

  Trent sank into the folding chair facing Jacobi’s desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Good. Got my point across, you know what I mean? But she didn’t have any info. Sounds like the Blacks don’t have a lot of money.”

  Jacobi frowned as he ran a hand through his longish hair. “Yeah. That’s sorta the problem right now.” He sighed, his gaze drifting to somewhere over Trent’s shoulder. “We’ll make a few more social calls to them. But we aren’t expecting them to pony up any real cash.”

  Trent nodded. He was just a low-level enforcer, the hired grunt work. If push came to shove and the Sokolovs needed to get serious about this money owed, it would go above Trent’s level. He was just sent on scare tactic missions. Basic collections.

  A random fingering here and there.

  “We heard they might be selling everything off though,” Jacobi went on. “So it’s possible they’re getting some cash flow. Who knows. You can check in with them next week. See if anything has changed.”

  “With the daughter again?” He ignored how his heart made a strange palpitation just from referencing her.

  “Yeah. If she seems like the best in for now. Go ahead.” Jacobi paused, a knowing grin crossing his face. “You visited the younger one today, right?”

  “I guess,” Trent muttered.

  “Damn, she’s so fucking hot.” Jacobi sucked on his teeth, leaning back in his chair. “I used to see her out at events here and there, when we’d go to the Christmas charity balls back in the day.” Jacobi shook his head, his eyes widening. “You should see her in a fucking strapless ball gown. About stopped my heart.”

  Trent smirked. Part of him would kill to see that, but more than that, he wanted to get himself buried deep inside her again. “I can imagine. I told her she could help out with her dad’s debt… through me.”

  Jacobi bit his bottom lip, his gaze growing distant. “You know, this might be the first time I’m actually jealous of your job.”

  Trent snorted. “Don’t be. She didn’t like that suggestion too much. So whatever. She’s hot, but she’s just part of the job.”

  “That’s why you’re the best, Trent.” Jacboi tapped a pen against the edge of the desk as he leaned back, a big smile on his face. “You don’t let anything get in the way of getting the job done. Which is why we have this new house visit for you.” His chair creaked, stretching his arms out above him. “Lucas Mueller. He owes us for some investments we made for his cryptocurrency business that went bust. He’s missed two payments, so it’s time to start shaking him down.”

  “Sounds pretty standard,” Trent said.

  “Yeah, but this guy is big time. Owes us almost as much as Jeffrey Black. I know you’ve been in collections for a while. But with these two gigs, you’re leveling up. If they go well, there’s a promotion in it for you.”

  Trent nodded, the implications swelling through him. The truth was – he liked working with the Sokolovs. They had a pretty nasty reputation far and wide, but here on the inside, the job was pretty cushy. He liked being far away from the more notorious stuff, like the high-risk weapons deals and the occasional shoot-out during territory claims. But a little promotion didn’t hurt anybody. And if it meant he got to manage the other grunts like him, then, all the better. He could do with some more pocket change.

  “I’m down,” Trent said, crossing his arms. “You know me. Sokolov by marriage.”

  Jacobi chuckled. That was their joke – Trent was basically an in-law. “Damn straight. I’ll send you the Mueller info later. Now you go home and get some rest.”

  Go home and get some rest.

  Sometimes, Jacobi sounded more like his mom than a boss or adoptive brother. But the truth was – Trent barely had a home. And rest? It was hard for a man like him to truly turn the noise off inside his brain.

  That’s why he drifted. Between bars. Between women. Between late-night movie theater specials and long bus rides, and any music he could stuff into his earbuds. His work with Sokolovs allowed him the freedom he craved, with the payouts he needed. Everything in between was just ways to fill the silence.

  Trent headed for his favorite bar, just a block from his dingy, underwhelming apartment downtown. He drank shots of whiskey until he couldn’t see straight, and then he stumbled home and passed out face-down on his bed.

  When he woke up, it was pushing noon, and he was hard as a rock. His bladder ached, and he pushed up, unamused that he was still in his clothes from the day before, nor had he brushed his teeth. He groaned, pushing onto his back, staring up at the stained ceiling.

  Sam Black.

  So that was why his cock was hard as steel. He frowned, stretching as he stumbled to the bathroom. That girl was the first thing on his mind the second he woke up. He was pretty sure he’d dreamt about her too. That wasn’t a good sign.

  He shifted from foot to foot, waiting for his cock to soften enough to take a piss. Once he was done, he brushed his teeth, then pushed out into the kitchen. Sunlight filtered through the half-broken blinds on the far wall of his apartment. It was the only window. This place was a shit hole, but it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t a home as much as a way station. A place to rest his head, when he wasn’t at HQ or out on a job.

  Besides, there was plenty of work to keep him busy. And today, it was all Lucas Mueller.

  Trent reviewed the information Jacobi had sent while he ate a slightly burnt piece of toast. A former millionaire marketing executive who’d switched industries – and wives – in his late forties. Now he was trying to strike out and make a new fortune investing in cryptocurrencies. Except the attempt had failed
, and now he owed the Sokolovs.

  Trent tossed back a cup off coffee, a pot he’d made yesterday, and winced. Ready for the day. He shrugged on his leather jacket and got into his car, a nondescript black beater that was hard to identify, much less remember, when anyone tried to track him.

  The drive was quick, once he got the beats of his favorite metal song pulsing through the stereo. The address led him to an immaculately maintained red brick home set back from the quiet suburban road. Birch trees lined the cul-de-sac leading up to the front door. Trent parked his car right in front of the front doors and got out, scuffing his way up the front steps.

  He pounded against the front door – thud thud thud – then waited. No answer. In lieu of trying again, he tried the knob. Unlocked. He pushed the front door open and listened.