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by Anne Conley


  But at the touch of his lips on hers, the lizard part of her brain—the part which was just made to eat, sleep, and have sex—told her to go for it. She whimpered into his lips in defeat, and his arms went around her waist, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss. Jake’s lips were soft, his mouth warm, and the aftershave exquisite. She didn’t want him to ever let her go.

  “Oh my God,” she breathed at him between kisses. His tongue delved into her mouth, but before she lost herself completely, she pulled back. “We can’t do this.”

  He kissed her again, muttering against her mouth, “Why not?”

  “I can think of half a dozen reasons off the top of my head.”

  That seemed to stop him, but he didn’t let go of her. Jake just looked at her quizzically, as if he saw absolutely nothing wrong with the fact they were kissing. He apparently didn’t realize he had a dual personality and was a complete shit half the time he existed. He finally looked up, taking a deep breath. When he refocused on her, his eyes hardened into something wild. Something feral. Something passionate. And a little scary.

  “Blame it on the stars,” was all he said before his mouth captured hers again. This kiss was different from the first. Where the first one was tentative and exploratory, this kiss was devouring. It was like he’d gotten a taste of nirvana and craved more. It was heady, the way his tongue was mating with hers in a fiery kiss that was quickly undoing her cell by cell. Her last coherent thought was that Simon was going to kill her.

  She gripped his biceps while his hand fell to the curve of her bottom and squeezed, pulling her into his erection.

  When he stopped, she felt lost. Miriam had to think to remember where she was, who she was. Breathing heavily, a lame attempt at redeeming her faculties, she leaned her forehead against his. He was gasping every bit as hard as she.

  “I think it’s time to say goodnight,” he nearly moaned at her. His breathing was ragged and his voice sounded funny, as if he was just as undone as she was. She was pretty sure that was what would be considered a mind-altering kiss.

  “Yeah,” was all she could muster.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” Taking her hand, Jake led her to where she’d parked and leaned her against the door.

  “Please don’t kiss me like that again. I need to drive home.”

  He chuckled and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, his warmth infusing her insides.

  “I want to see you again, Miriam.” Jake was staring at her, his blue eyes peering deep into hers. They darted between her eyes, down to her lips, and back up to her eyes.

  Miriam warred with herself. It was ridiculous. She wasn’t supposed to be on the job anymore, and Jake had some weird personality issues, to say the least. Knowing—even if he were always like this—she couldn’t date him, for multiple reasons, she still nodded her head. That kiss had skewed her reality.

  Blame it on the stars.

  Indeed.

  “Tomorrow night,” she whispered. She was off tomorrow, too, but she didn’t know how he was running the bar without both of them there. Oh well. It wasn’t her bar. Besides, Quinten could throw out any drunks.

  Smiling brightly, he opened her door for her. “Tomorrow. Same place?” She nodded and he shut the door, tapping the roof of her car before she drove off.

  How did he turn off the asshole switch and turn on the charm? How in the fuck was she going to see him again? How could she not?

  As she drove to her apartment, she mused over the abuse mentality she was clearly exhibiting signs of. She’d done it with Vince, hoping he’d change to the man she’d started dating. And now she was doing it with Jake, rolling the dice and taking her chances he’d be the nice guy she liked instead of the sleaze ball she despised.

  She was perpetuating the cycle of abuse and she knew it. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Thank God it was just a job. She told herself she would just get the job done, and then she, too, would be finished with Jake Calahan.

  The next morning, Miriam was at Pierce Securities, placing their monthly order for office supplies. She’d missed last month and they were about out of everything. Simon came into the reception area and straddled a chair backward, across from her desk.

  “I’m sorry, Mir. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

  No, he shouldn’t have. But he was apologizing, and Miriam knew the struggle Simon had with that. She appreciated the effort it took. “Apology accepted.”

  “I really do respect you. As a woman, as a co-worker, and as a friend. I thought about this a lot last night, and if you want to keep doing the job, you can. I trust you to get the information, and I’ll try to stop worrying about you so much.” He looked like he wanted to say more but stopped himself.

  She was flabbergasted. Simon was a hot head, but his instincts were usually right. Even if he didn’t deliver them well, his temper tantrums most always had merit behind them.

  Still, she wasn’t about to tell him about the date. Or the kiss. He’d be so pissed off. His number one rule from the inception of the company was no relations with the clients. There was no explanation, and everyone assumed he knew from experience. No one dared ask him, though.

  He was stretching his edict with her.

  “Thank you, Simon.”

  “Are we okay?” She nodded to him and smiled as Quinten came in the office. Miriam gasped when she saw him: his face swollen, cuts on his cheeks, and an eye more colorful than a basket of Easter eggs.

  Simon only chuckled. “Did you win?”

  Quinten grimaced, “Don’t I always?”

  “You big idiot. Get over here and sit down. Right now,” Miriam scolded, getting the first aid kit from her desk. This was what Quinten did. For some reason, he fought in those underground, no-holds-barred fights. He said it was for fun, but Miriam truly believed it was something else. “Is it just your face? Or is something else hurt, too?”

  He grunted as he sat in the chair. “I think my ribs need to be wrapped better. I had a hard time with those last night.”

  “Ugh…”

  Evan came out of his office as Miriam was tending to Quinten’s face, Simon still sitting across from her desk. Ryan came out of his office to see what was going on.

  “Is the meeting in here this morning, Sarge?” Simon gave his usual grimace at the moniker, but Miriam was too involved in cleaning a particularly deep cut on Quinten’s face.

  “Sure, why not?”

  Evan piped up with his development. “Zack has been following Calahan’s clicks on his computer while I’ve been working that other job. Calahan is buying guns on Craigslist and making deals with guys he’s been emailing. No paperwork that way.”

  Simon mused, “Twenty guns isn’t really all that much…”

  “Sounds to me like he just got in over his head and messed with the wrong people. He’s a two-bit crook dealing small time. Why he thought getting mixed up with Tres Lobos is beyond me.” Ryan pulled up a chair and sat with his ankle crossed over one leg in front of him.

  Evan was leaning on his doorframe. “Maybe he borrowed the money from them to pay back his parents but spent it on something else to sell, trying to make more. That gets a lot of people in trouble.”

  “Yeah, but how did he think he was going to pay Javier back?” Miriam asked, ignoring the fact that Quinten was silently staring at her as she worked. She really had enough to deal with besides Quinten’s unrequited crush, which was evident in his pleading eyes.

  “I actually think Javier’s being way too cool with this deal. Twenty guns across the border really isn’t that big of a deal. I mean, it’s still a felony offense, but twenty guns will fit into a compact car and not really be all that suspicious,” Ryan put in his two cents. “If he really needed guns, twenty isn’t going to fix him.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be driving it,” Miriam shuddered. Quinten rested his hands on her thighs and squeezed gently.

  “I wouldn’t let you, Mir.” He spoke quietly, bu
t all eyes in the room were on him. Simon snorted.

  “Stand up and take off your shirt. Let’s see those ribs, idiot.” He smirked at her but did as he was told. A rush of air went out at the sight of the bruises.

  “Who’d you fight?” Simon asked.

  “Some kid from the south side. I let him have a few good licks in to save face before I took him down in a choke hold. Don’t worry, I look worse than he does.” One side of Quinten’s well-built torso was blue and purple. Miriam reached into another drawer for the right bandages. Wrapping them tightly around his torso, she listened to the rest of the guys talk.

  “How do you think he’s going to get them across? Will he drive them himself?” Evan asked.

  “Nah, he’s stupid, but not that stupid. He’ll get someone else to do it for him. Probably someone he’s got something on,” Ryan said.

  Simon piped up. “Mir, you still okay with this?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Cool. We need to see if he’s got the guns at the bar. Can you look around? Quinten can if you can’t. But as bar manager, you have access to stuff he doesn’t without raising questions.”

  “Sure. I can run by after this and take a look around. I know there aren’t any in his office, or the supply closet, but I can check the delivery area by the loading dock in the back.”

  “I can check the loading docks,” Quinten interrupted.

  “Cool it, Romeo. She said she can do it. Let her,” Simon said. Miriam laughed at Quinten’s rising blush, but appreciated the trust Simon was putting in her. She felt more like the rest of them instead of the mother-figure of the group. It was his way of publicly saying she was trusted to do this. And she needed this. For some reason, Simon’s validation to her as a person was important.

  “Hey, Mir,” Ryan called out from his seat. “Are your boobs different?” He eyeballed her chest, but not in a lusty way; he was purely asking out of curiosity’s sake.

  She blushed, but Evan cut in before she could answer. “Yeah, I noticed that, too. Can we talk about them if they’re not real? We don’t mean to be offensive. Paige said not to talk about you behind your back, that you would appreciate straight questions.”

  “I do. And yeah, my prosthetic breasts came in. Silicone inserts for my bra. But honestly, they’re uncomfortable, and I think they may not be a necessary requirement after this job’s done. And please, don’t talk about me behind my back.” She liked Paige and appreciated her telling Evan to use some tact. Straight questions were definitely something she could deal with. “Y’all want to feel them? That way, when Zack comes back you can all tell him you felt my breasts and see what sorts of colors his face changes?” she asked with a giggle.

  Predictably, Evan and Ryan declined, citing women at home who wouldn’t appreciate it. Simon muttered something under his breath but Quinten’s face turned a pretty shade of pink while he made a choking noise before running into his office.

  Too funny. Now she knew how to get some alone time at her desk.

  Miriam wished she had taken the time to change out of her skirt before going to the bar, but honestly, she was supposed to be off today, too, and wanted to get in and out as quickly as she could. The bar was not a happy place for her. The sooner she got this job and Jake Calahan out of her head, the better.

  Of course, he was there. Because she didn’t know how to deal with him, he flaunted his face in front of her in all his chiseled featured glory. Of course, he didn’t acknowledge the kiss last night, or their date, and the oily sheen that coated him like the bar persona’s clothes were a certain turn off.

  Today, he wore regular jeans, but they were entirely too tight, showing off a bulge which would have been enticing if it hadn’t made her think of all the circulation he might be cutting off to his testicles.

  “Um, I noticed we’re missing a case of napkins and we were running low last time I checked. Did anybody find them?” They weren’t missing a box of napkins, but Miriam knew he would have no clue.

  Predictably, he waved his hands dismissively. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, I’m going out to the loading area to see if they might be there.”

  “Knock yourself out, Babe.” He checked out her boobs and grinned like a lecher. Asshole Jake was back.

  She spun around and let herself out of the office, going toward the back entrance which opened into a storage area with a garage door that let delivery trucks back up to it for unloading. This was where Jake, or Mr. Calahan, as she called him at work, came and went. It was also where Javier’s men had come, and presumably anybody else he didn’t want seen.

  It was stacked with lots of empty boxes and some full ones. The paper products were stored out here, as well as extra glasses and bar stools. Nothing was organized, just piled up haphazardly, making Miriam a little bit crazy. If this were a real job, she would have spent her first week out here, organizing and figuring out what was what.

  She was working her way through boxes on a shelf when the door to the bar opened and Mr. Calahan strode out.

  “You know, something just occurred to me…” he mused, his voice thick with something she didn’t like.

  Keeping her back to him, not wanting to see what he was looking at, Miriam responded with a vague noise of interest.

  “You’re smart.” His voice was closer now, and his hands came down on her hips, hard. Miriam stiffened. “You’re pretty.” His breath was hot on her neck, and the smell of stale tobacco invaded her senses. She hadn’t noticed that last night. “I think I’ve got a job for you.”

  He dropped a hot kiss on her shoulder, and Miriam shuddered. She was afraid she already knew what the job was, and it would be a coup for the company, but she wasn’t sure she was up to whatever else he had in store. Not if it was the bar persona doing it.

  Shit, she was out of her mind. How could she like a guy that was like this?

  “I don’t think—”

  “I don’t pay you to think.” Suddenly, his hands on her were hard, rough, and he pushed her against the wall of shelves she was near. He was stronger than he looked, and Miriam tasted the fear in her mouth.

  He was going to rape her.

  That realization brought on the dawning insight that this wasn’t Jake. Not the man she had gone out with last night. There was no way this was the same man.

  One hand held both of hers clasped above her head, while the other ran down her leg and pulled up her skirt, the entire time his body pushing her against the shelves.

  “You have a seriously hot little body, Babe,” he groaned into her ear before biting it. Hard.

  She let out a shriek of outrage as her stomach sank.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you. There’s nobody out there to hear you.” He was right, the bar was deserted. It was one o’clock in the afternoon.

  Her panties were ripped off her, and it was not the sexy experience it could have been. She was scared. This was not the same man she’d come undone for last night. This was not the man she was looking forward to a date with tonight. This was not the same man.

  When she heard the zipper on his pants, she tried reasoning with him. “Jake, please. Don’t do this.”

  He stilled, his body continuing to press her into the shelves, and a sickening chuckle shook him. “Oh, this is too fucking perfect.”

  He release his cock and rubbed it against her backside, groaning as he did. “I want to fuck this ass so bad…” She shuddered in revulsion, not being able to imagine the pain and degradation in store for her. “Do you want me to? I can make it good for you, Babe.”

  “No, I don’t. You have a serious problem, you know that?”

  She felt his smile against her ear, and his hot breath was noxious, suffocating her. “You’re actually the one with the problem. But I think I have a solution for you.” She knew what her problem was. She had made a serious mistake with this entire assignment.

  He was still pressing against her, and the metal shelving was biting into her ribs, making it diff
icult to breathe. “Make a delivery for me. It will take two days. If you don’t do it, I finish this.” He slapped her bare ass hard, then teased her, his fingers going dangerously close to where she didn’t want them.

  “Okay,” she stammered.

  His hand went around to her front, under her shirt and bra to find nothing there. “What the fuck? You don’t have tits?” The outrage in his voice was loud in her ear, reminding her of her inadequacies in the most horrific way. He slapped her ass again in frustration, and Miriam was ridiculously grateful for her lack of breasts. For the first time ever, the disgust rolling off Jake was welcome.

  Taking two steps back, he growled, “Be here at six tomorrow morning. You’re taking a drive.”

  Miriam kept hugging the shelf, trying to get her emotions in check. They ran all over the place while she gulped in huge lungfuls of air, with each exhale trying to get rid of the poison he’d just covered her with. After twenty minutes of that, she still felt the same—violated, betrayed, confused.

  And wondering what the hell was going on.

  Joe was giddy. He’d had a funny feeling about Miriam from the beginning. She seemed like she was hiding something, but hell, who wasn’t? He’d been desperate for someone to straighten out this drowning hole he called a business, so he’d hired her anyway. He sure as fuck didn’t know what he was doing, and she seemed competent.

  But to know she thought he was Jake was the most excellent news he’d heard in months. It certainly gave him something pleasant to think about besides Javier. So he was going to fantasize and visualize her fabulous ass. Yeah, she didn’t have tits, but if he was doing her from behind, he didn’t need those, right? He bet Jake didn’t know. Undoubtedly, Jake was too nice to tap that shit. He was probably wining and dining her in style, which was why she was so shocked by Joe’s actions today.

 

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