by Meghan March
Moses stomps out of the club with me bouncing on his shoulder as we pass curious onlookers. Not one person does a single thing to stop him.
I want to scream and rage and cuss them all out, but that would be beneath me.
Instead, I wait until we’re outside, and then I let it rip.
“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing? You don’t own me. You don’t get to just come back after fifteen years and storm into my life and carry me out of somewhere I want to be. Do you hear me, Moses? This is not gonna fucking fly. I’m in charge of my own goddamned life, and I won’t be—” He yanks open the back door, and my words cut off when he flips me around to dump me inside. “Didn’t you listen to a single thing I just said?”
His greenish-gold eyes burn so intensely, they practically sear me as he slams the door.
My mouth drops open. Again. “Oh no. No, you did not just fucking do that.”
I wait for him to open the other door and slide inside the back with me so I can keep tearing strips off his hide and tell him exactly how he does not get to treat me, when the engine growls to life and we start moving.
“What the fuck?” The divider is up between the front and back seats, and I can’t see Moses, but I have to assume he’s driving. “Hey! I know you’re up there.”
When he doesn’t roll the divider down, I slap at the thing.
A moment later, it moves down several inches, until I can see his face in the rearview mirror.
“Give me five fucking minutes to calm down before I lose my goddamned mind over what I just walked in on.” Moses’s deep voice is so low, it’s barely audible. It’s more of a growl.
“What the fuck are you pissed about? It’s not like I was doing anything wrong.”
He brakes hard as we approach the rising gate he shouldn’t have been able to get past to get into the club in the first place, and I put up a hand to brace myself. Then he turns around and stares me dead in the eye.
“If you think you weren’t doing anything I’d be pissed about, maybe I don’t know you like I thought I did. And you sure as fuck don’t know me.”
The divider slides back up, leaving me alone in the back of a Rolls Royce, wondering what in the fuck just happened.
Thirty-Eight
Moses
“What the fuck are you pissed about? It’s not like I was doing anything wrong.”
Magnolia’s words repeat in my head as I drive back to the city.
Not doing anything wrong? Maybe not to anyone else’s way of thinking, but Jesus Christ.
Chess was ours.
I still remember the exact moment I knew she was unlike any other woman I’d ever met.
Fifteen years ago
“You wanna play again? Really? Don’t you know I’m just gonna keep beating you?” Magnolia flashed me a megawatt smile as she settled onto the chair opposite from me and crossed her legs.
God, this woman was something else. The face of a siren, the body of a goddess, and the chess skills of a master. She was the whole damn package.
She didn’t care who I was or what I did. She was just grateful not to be alone, trying to protect her house from looters who might decide they wanted something more. Like the last ones . . .
I thought of the men I killed. Their bodies were long gone, so at least I didn’t have to worry about anyone pinning that shit on me. The only thing I wished was that I could have made them suffer longer.
Maybe it was hypocritical, but I didn’t care. What they planned to do to her . . . no real man ever did that shit to a woman. I thought of the orders I’d given right before I left Biloxi, and regret, something I’d never much felt before, trickled through me.
It didn’t make sense, but this woman . . . she was changing me. I didn’t know how, especially this fast, but I guessed that was how shit worked sometimes.
I smiled at her across the table. “I’ll keep playing you until I win.”
She laughed, and it wasn’t one of those nervous giggles I was used to hearing from women. It was loud and throaty as Magnolia threw her head back.
Goddamn. That’s a beautiful sight.
“Then you’ll be playing me for a long damn time, Moby. Because I’m that good.” She winked as she used the nickname she’d given me.
In that moment, I wanted to see her laugh for a hell of a lot longer than I’d be staying in New Orleans. I had a ticking time bomb on my hands, and I wouldn’t be able to stick around much longer. Hell, I shouldn’t have stuck around this long. But as I took my seat across from Magnolia, I was certain I’d stay as long as I fucking could.
God, I should just take her with me.
The thought came out of nowhere, but I couldn’t say it was altogether crazy. Hell, it was the only good option, because I sure as shit didn’t want to walk away from New Orleans and leave her here.
“You’re one of a kind, mama. Never met a woman like you before.”
Her laughter died away as her whiskey-colored eyes met mine. “I find that hard to believe. Besides, you’re already getting laid. No need to flatter me for it.”
She couldn’t see what I saw in her, and that was a goddamned tragedy.
“It ain’t flattery when it’s the truth,” I told her. “Now, let’s play. You gotta admit I’m getting better. A few more days, and I’m gonna give you a run for your money.”
Her hand froze as she reached for the chess piece. “You’re staying a few more days?” she asked quietly.
I nodded slowly. “Damn right, unless you want me out of here.”
That brilliant smile of hers came back, and it was even brighter than before. The world was going to hell outside her doors, but inside that rickety old house, it was paradise. “I’ll let you stay. You’re good entertainment.” She winked again, and my dick went rock hard.
I rose from the chair. “Game can wait. I’ve got something else to keep you entertained right now.” One step brought me next to her, and I scooped her out of her chair and bounced her against my chest. “Unless you’ve got a problem with that.”
She was laughing as she kissed me, and it was the best fucking kiss of my life. It was the first time I realized Magnolia tasted exactly like happiness. Like forever.
“Does it feel like I have a problem with that? I already know how the game’s gonna go. This way, at least you might surprise me.”
This woman. One of a kind. “You’re asking for it now.” I carried her to her bed and held her a few feet above it.
“You’d best believe I’m asking for it,” she said with a cocky, playful grin.
So I dropped her.
Her laughter came even harder when she bounced twice, and then I was on her.
“Laughing at my chess skills. Laughing at me as I take you to bed. You just can’t stop laughing,” I said as I pulled her against me and rolled so I was beneath her. The stitches in my shoulder smarted at the movement, but I hid it. At least, I thought I did.
She sat up on top of me, her face flashing to serious in an instant. “I saw that. You’ve gotta take it easy. Leave the manhandling for later.”
I reached out to grip her around the waist. “I’ll manhandle you every chance I get, stitches or not.”
“Stubborn fucking man.” She shook her head, and her thick, dark hair swayed between us. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“Is that right?” I asked, feeling my lips lift at her admission. My hands skimmed down to the curves of her peach-shaped ass.
“That you’re lucky? Fuck yes, because I’m about to do all the work.” She pressed her palm against the center of my chest, and I settled back onto the mattress.
I was talking about the part about her liking me, but I decided not to press her too hard on it yet. There’d be more time for that later. More time to see if she’d leave with me. Walk away from this life and figure out a new one together.
Who the fuck am I right now? Thinking like this?
It didn’t matter how fucking crazy it sounded—it was the only answer
that worked for me. You didn’t find a woman like Magnolia without thinking shit like that.
Later.
Because the second her hand closed around my dick, the only thing I cared about was how many times I’d be able to get her off before I lost my mind inside that tight cunt of hers.
She squeezed hard and jacked me until she saw pre-cum bead at the tip.
“Maybe I should just suck your dick until you shoot your load all over my tits,” she murmured, those whiskey eyes turning greedy as they locked on my dick. “Because, goddamn, do you have a perfect cock. You and your Moby Dick.”
“And you’ve got the perfect tits.” I reached for her shirt and pulled it up to get it off her, but she slapped my hands away.
“Mind your stitches,” she said as she released my dick to strip her shirt off herself.
“Okay, mama.”
That got a smile out of her, right before her mouth covered the head of my cock, and I forgot everything except how fucking glad I was that I’d taken the call that brought me to New Orleans . . . no matter the consequences.
Present day
I drag myself out of the memory, hating the choices I had to make, because they took me away from Magnolia. If it wasn’t for the path I took, I could have been the guy she played chess with all these years. We could have had a life together.
But we didn’t get that.
Because of me.
Thirty-Nine
Magnolia
If that man thinks that he can just put me in the back of a car and shut me in here until he’s ready to deal with me, he’s dead wrong. And if he thinks a woman scorned has fury, he’s not seen me mad yet.
I am not the kind of woman who does what she’s told, or is seen and not heard.
Fuck that.
With every mile we drive, I get more and more pissed off. I mentally rehearse exactly what I’ll say to him the second he opens that damn door.
If you came back to win me back, you’re doing it the wrong fucking way. Because I’m not the kind of woman who will let you steamroll me. I don’t care if you drive a Rolls Royce, you don’t just put a person in the back and ignore them the whole way home. You could at least talk to me about why you’re so damn pissed off.
Finally, I realize we’re not going back to my house like I thought we were. We’re in the Marigny when we slow and turn into a driveway. There’s a pause before we move forward again.
The hell?
I’m determined to get some goddamned answers, do some yelling, and then march my ass home if I have to.
When the engine shuts off, I reach for the door handle and yank on it. But it won’t open. With a growl, I start pushing buttons, but none of them unlock the door from the inside.
What the hell? He did not lock me inside here. No fucking way.
I hear the driver’s door open and shut, and I expect Moses to let me out immediately.
Boy, am I ready.
But he doesn’t come open my door.
What in the actual fuck?
I crane my neck to see outside the window, but it’s pitch black, and I can’t make out anything.
“You’d best not fucking leave me in here! Let me out!” I yell, and my words echo in the tightly sealed cabin of the Rolls. Suddenly, the door pops open, and I open my mouth to unleash hell on Moses—but it’s not his face I see.
It’s Jules.
“Right this way, Ms. Maison. I’ll show you inside.” He doesn’t even wait before starting for the door.
“Where the hell is Moses?”
“He had other business to attend to. He’s unavailable at the moment. But I have your purse.”
My mouth drops open as I take it from him. “What? He was just here. Driving the car. He—” I cut off my words, because clearly Moses left me. “Never mind. I’ll walk my ass home.”
Jules turns and faces me again. “You’re staying here tonight, Ms. Maison.”
“Give me one good reason,” I tell him as my hands go to my hips. “You’ve got ten seconds.”
“Do you want to live to see tomorrow?” he asks, and the grave question takes me by surprise.
I fall back on my heels and stop in my tracks. “What?”
His hands rise as he explains. “You’re safe here. At home, you may not be. Plus, I hear you don’t have any furniture, and the beds here are damn comfy.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to fuck off, but . . . that whole do you want to live to see tomorrow question has my sense of self-preservation kicking in.
“Fine. But only because I don’t have a bed yet.” Silently, I add, And because I really fucking like the idea of being safe. It’s not something I’ve had enough of in my life to take for granted.
He tilts his head and raises his brows. “And because you want to ream Moses?”
I glare at him. “That’s not part of the reason.”
With a shrug, he replies, “Whatever you say. Follow me.”
He takes me through a courtyard with a pool, and then a sliding glass door that leads into a wide-open living space. There’s a long table in the middle, and a young-looking guy with short brown hair and glasses sits in front of it, typing away.
He gives me a chin lift as I follow Jules. “Hi, Magnolia, heard a lot about you. Go easy on the boss. By the way, I’m Trey. Nice to meet you.”
My reputation precedes me, even here. “Hi.”
“You want something to eat?” Jules asks, pointing to the fridge. “We have food, or we can order in for you. Just say the word, and we’ll make it happen.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m good. Just . . . show me to the dungeon, I guess.”
Trey chokes out a laugh. “Damn. Shit really must’ve gone wrong tonight. Between that comment and how Moses stomped through here and disappeared . . .”
Jules shoots his friend a look that shuts him up.
“I don’t care what Moses is doing,” I tell both of them. “He can go fuck himself for all I care.” I turn to Jules. “You mentioned there’s a bed?”
“Through here.” He takes me down a hall and shows me to a bedroom. I shut the door in his face as soon as I’m inside, but I don’t do it out of spite. I do it because I realize where I’m sleeping as soon as he opened the door.
Moses’s room.
How did I know? There’s a chessboard set up on a small table near the window. I cross the room to look at it and immediately notice the missing pieces.
Pawn and knight.
I set my purse on the table and dig them out. I’ve been carrying them with me, feeling sentimental as hell every time I touch them.
Who has time for sentiment, anyway?
I place them in their respective spots and turn away from the board. But Ho-It-All rears her ugly head.
How would you feel if you walked into this room and saw Moses playing chess with another woman? Would you be okay with it? Or would you want to rip her goddamned eyes out of her head for knowing how sexy he looks across a chessboard? You know, admiring the way he rocks his jaw back and forth when he considers his next move. How he reaches up and grips the back of his neck when he’s watching you win—trying to hold back a grin all the while? Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have a problem with that. No big deal. Right?
That fucking bitch of a conscience. She just had to go there.
I turn back around and drop into one of the chairs.
Fuck.
I wait for hours, but Moses doesn’t show. Finally, I curl up on the bed and pass out. He can see a miracle occur in broad daylight then—me apologizing.
Forty
Moses
I don’t go back to the house until I’ve exhausted myself with a punishing workout and spent a couple of hours walking the French Quarter, just for good measure, to calm my temper.
Magnolia fires me up the way no one else can, that’s for damn sure. When I get inside, Trey is still working at the table, but Jules is nowhere to be found.
Trey’s head swivels when he hears the sl
iding door. “I wondered if you were ever coming back.”
“I’m back. What of it?” Guess my mood still isn’t all that great.
“Nothing. Didn’t hear any breaking glass or anything after Jules put her in your room. I figure that’s a good sign, considering how pissed off she was when he brought her inside.”
Of course Jules would put her in my room. I don’t know whether to shake his hand or ask him if he’s fucking crazy when I find him.
“She eat?”
Trey shakes his head. “Not hungry, or so she said. I think she was feeding on the fires of her rage, if you want to know the truth.”
His sense of humor usually makes me laugh, but tonight, I’m not in the mood.
“Thanks, man. I’m crashing.”
His eyes widen. “In your room with the fire-breathing beauty?”
I think about it for a second. “Yeah, that’s exactly where I’m heading.”
“God bless and Godspeed, my man. I hope I see you alive in the morning.”
“If I’m dead, Jules gets the Rolls,” I tell him as I cross the kitchen to head for the bedroom.
“That’s not fucking fair,” Trey says as I disappear around the corner to the hallway.
I take a long shower in another bathroom before I finally head to bed with a towel wrapped around my waist. I listen outside the door for a few moments, and when I don’t hear anything inside, I open it. Part of me expects her to be breathing fire and smoldering from the ears, just like Trey said, but that’s not what I find at all.
No, inside there’s a gorgeous raven-haired beauty with golden skin curled up on top of the covers, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.
She’s asleep.
I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved.
Silently, I cross the room and slide under the sheets, careful not to disturb Magnolia. But I’m clearly not as silent as I think I am, because her sleep-roughened voice comes out of the darkness.