by Sophia Gray
She nodded and I headed out, waving as I went. Parked outside was Louis’s car. He was standing by the passenger door, holding it open. Although I knew he was annoyed by his incessant texting, his expression was the same stoic one that he always wore.
“Evening, Jeeves,” I told him snidely.
He grunted.
I slid into the passenger side and when all limbs were safely inside the vehicle, he slammed the door after me. A moment later he was behind the wheel and we were heading towards whatever spot Ethan had picked this time.
Louis drove me to a hole in the wall eatery that boasted authentic Mexican food. I hadn’t ever eaten there before because it was on the side of town that I tried hard to avoid. But I’d been on this side of town more than a few times of late, so when Louis stopped in their parking lot, I wasn’t completely surprised.
Opening my own door before Louis could get around and do it for me, I stepped out into the night. It was starting to get chilly out, but we were still in the swing of summer, so I could get away with the short sleeved dress I’d worn today.
“A restaurant?” I asked Louis with a raised brow, though restaurant might have been stretching things a bit. Inside there were a total of three tables and a bar that wrapped around three of the four walls in the place.
Louis said nothing, just pointed towards one of the tables tucked away in the back. There was just enough light for me to see that a tall, dark, and dangerously sexy man was sitting there.
I sighed. Ethan. “Will you be joining us tonight or do you prefer your peeping Tom status?” I asked Louis.
He dutifully ignored me, but escorted me to the table and even pulled out my chair for me. Louis, like Ethan, was the oddest mixture of gentleman and asshole I’d ever encountered. I even found myself saying thank you to Louis when he tucked me into the table.
I thought I saw a twitch of a grin on his mouth, but it was gone as quickly as he was. “What? He doesn’t eat?” I asked Ethan when Louis had done his disappearing act.
Ethan shrugged. “Mexican isn’t really his thing.”
“What if it’s not mine?”
“Then you’re going to have a long night of watching me eat,” he answered easily.
I rolled my eyes and reached for a menu, but Ethan snatched it quickly from my grasp. “Hey!”
He waved me off. “I’ll do the ordering and you’ll eat whatever I get for you.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I sat back in my chair and waited. What a jerk.
When the waitress came by—wearing a skirt so short that I saw the underside of her rear and a shirt so tiny, her breasts looked ready to make their escape any moment—he ended up ordering in Spanish and sending her off with a swat to her ass.
“Really?” I asked indignantly.
“I’ve known Maria for a long time. She’s very supple.”
I let out a disgusted groan. “Is there a woman you haven’t slept with in this town?”
He pretended to think about it. “There are probably a few. I’m not into grandmas.” He grinned broadly at me and let his eyes drop to my chest where my cleavage was pushed together by my crossed arms. “Just milfs.”
I tried to be offended, but instead my body flushed and my heart skipped a beat. There was always a carnal look in Ethan’s eyes when he stared at me. Like seeing me made him hungry. It should have been off-putting at the very least, but instead I found my body reacting to it every time we were in the same room together.
Trying to ignore my body’s reaction, which he had to have been trying to invoke in me deliberately, I cleared my throat. “So dinner. That’s new. You’ve never been the wine and dine type before.”
He fell silent then and I watched as his expression became thoughtful and just a little sad. Like he was remembering something from a while ago, a memory that was bittersweet. He was like that sometimes, usually during our bantering portions of the payment schedule. He’d never told me why and I’d never asked, because I told myself I wasn’t interested in the little details about him.
But I found that more often now, I wondered.
“I usually think it’s a waste of time,” he said finally. “Everyone’s just in it for the sex anyway. Why not just skip to the entertainment portion of the evening?”
I laughed a little. “Wow, cynical much?”
He raised a single dark brow at me. “You’re the one here to make a payment,” he pointed out.
I pursed my lips together and looked away from him before I saw him do something annoying like smirk at me. He was right, of course. I was here to do the dirty with him and be done for the night. But that didn’t mean it was what I wanted.
Right?
I don’t even know anymore.
Before we could get into more details, the food came. It was hot and spicy and smelled like the south of the border that came with long vacations and fun in the sun. Although I wanted to hate the food just to spite him, he’d chosen dishes well. There were tortillas and some sort of meat smothered in spicy red chili. The sides were seasoned rice, salsas, guacamole, and a few other things I didn’t recognize, but tried anyway.
For a while, we were blissfully silent as we both ate. But as we slowed, I was surprised when he asked about my day.
“Business good?”
I looked at him over a drink of water. “Yeah, it’s been good. Really good, actually,” I admitted after a moment. I wondered what his angle was, because there was always an angle, but I didn’t push it. “I’ve had a bunch of new customers, mostly from out of town, just stopping in to—”
I broke off, now staring at him directly. He was smiling smugly, leaning back a little in his chair.
“A lot of them are men,” I pointed out, finally starting to put a few pieces together. “Truckers, I think. Odd, isn’t it?”
He shrugged his shoulders, still smiling at me. “Is it? I don’t really know what sort of patrons a salon has.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“So you wouldn’t have any idea why I would suddenly have an influx of clientele that matches the same kind of people you serve at your diner?”
Finally, he laughed and shook his head. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“You sent them to my salon?” I asked, sounding more confused than anything else. I couldn’t tell if I was supposed to be angry with him for butting in or grateful for sending business my way. I’d done better in the last month than I had in a long time, and that included when the convenience store had been open.
Waving it off, he admitted, “I recommend your place when they come in. Nothing wrong with that.”
I sat back in my chair, studying him. “Why are you helping me out?”
His smile dropped a little, though he didn’t look angry or wicked or anything. He just looked like a man who was talking to a woman. It was both refreshing and a little disconcerting. “I want to make sure business goes well. Now that we’re partners,” he waved his hand between us for emphasis, “I have a little more stake in the matter. A business that doesn’t do well doesn’t do me any good, now does it?”
“No, I guess not,” I admitted, though I had a weird feeling about the whole thing. Like maybe this wasn’t just about the drugs or his business ventures.
Clearing his throat, he sat up a little straighter. For half a second, I almost thought he looked nervous, but the moment passed so quickly that I was sure I imagined it. “Which is why I have to insist that you fix that damn hole in your store. You can’t run a business with a wall missing and nothing but blackened char on the other side of it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling anger bubble up. Seriously? He set the damn fire in the first place! Not that I could actually throw that argument out there, true or not. Talking about those sorts of things in public were definitely on the list of things I was not allowed to do. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t exactly have money to donate towards the fixing up the arsonist’s handiwork fund, if you
know what I mean.”
Ignoring my quip, he continued, “I understand that the insurance company is giving you a hard time. So in the interest of both of our businesses being successful, I’m donating the money.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“For clearing away the debris from the fire and putting up that damn wall,” he clarified. “It bugs the hell out of me that my drugs are being stored in a place that is missing a wall.”
Feeling indignant on The Cut’s behalf, I straightened up a little and said, “Hey, the storage in the back has four walls and a locked door, okay? It’s secure.”
“Not the point. I want the wall fixed. And I want new paint inside. Maybe some new chairs. Whatever.” He waved his hand as though dismissing the details for someone else—like me—to deal with.
I found myself staring at him, not really sure what to say. Thank you? Technically it was his fault that there was damage to repair in the first place. But he didn’t have to send business my way, regardless of his given reasons, and he definitely didn’t have to give me money to spruce up The Cut. “I…I guess I don’t know what to say,” I told him finally.
He smiled and for a heartbeat, I was sure it was a real, genuine smile. “Thank you, comes to mind. I hear it’s the traditional response anyway.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, but a smile tugged at my lips. “I’ll send a card.”
We finished up our meal—I got mine packed up to go, because it was more food than I could eat—then stood.
“There’s a spot in the back where we can take care of business.”
My heart dropped as reality came crashing back down on me. I remembered that I was here because I was the equivalent of a call girl, and I was paying him for protection from the things that he might do to me.
I nodded at him and followed him to a small room in the back. It had to be used for storage or something, though there were only a few crates and boxes along the walls. There was a table with a cloth laid down and some candles lit. Almost romantic. But not quite.
I stripped for him quickly, then sat on the edge of the table waiting for him to come to me and take what he wanted. And he did. He touched me, clutched at me, and caressed me. He pushed me over the edge and I lost myself to his touch.
And this time, I didn’t have to war with myself over whether or not it was right to enjoy this. Instead, I reminded myself he had done something nice for me today. That made it a little easier to accept him as he slid inside me and made me find my release.
Chapter 11
A couple of weeks later, I was closing up shop by myself. Jessie had asked for the night off, heading out with a few of her girlfriends to enjoy the nightlife while she was still young. Cody was at my neighbor’s apartment tonight, just in case Ethan called in an impromptu payment. That left just me for the moment.
Today had been the same kind of busy it always was these days. Ethan had made good on his word to pay for the damages to the store and some much needed improvements, meaning the wall was up—though we were still talking about colors for paint; I hated the blue he’d picked out and he hated the moss green I wanted.
The charred remains of the convenient store were also mostly gone, leaving a cleared out slab of concrete for a base. Ethan and I had been discussing what we might use it for.
We, I thought, shaking my head a little at myself. Like we’re legitimate partners or something.
Sighing, I took the tub of packed up scissors to the back where I stored them at night. My supplies were right beside the closet where Ethan stored his drugs. That door always remained locked. I didn’t even have a key for it—Ethan’s guys put the new lock on—and really didn’t want a key. Ethan could handle his own business; I didn’t want to worry about it, too.
Putting up my tub, I heard the little bell above the door ring. “Damn, I could have sworn I locked it,” I muttered to myself. Raising my voice, I called to the front, “Sorry! We’re closed!”
I listened for a minute and when I didn’t hear the bell ring again, I let out a sigh. Whoever it was was still in the shop. Heading out to the front, I froze when I saw a large, burly man sitting in one of my chairs, flipping through a magazine. He looked so out of place that it was laughable, with his leather pants and his tattooed arms, flipping through a fashion magazine.
But I didn’t feel like laughing. There was something about the man that spoke of danger. Like a predator poised to strike.
Swallowing back my fear, I put on my best “I’m in charge” face. “Excuse me, I said we’re closed. But you’re welcome to come back in the morning, of course.” Though I seriously hoped he wouldn’t take me up on that offer.
Putting down the magazine, he smiled at me. It was a smile that reminded me of the first time Ethan was in my shop. And that wasn’t a good thing. Standing, he said, “Diana Leone? My, you’re pretty.”
I stiffened. I was starting to think that being pretty wasn’t doing me very many favors. Neither was being a good girl, I’d noticed. “Yes, I’m Ms. Leone. If you need to talk about something, like I said, come back in the morning.”
“I don’t think so.”
Before I could tell him off or threaten to call the police—which was a damn joke in the first place—he was across the room with his hands on my upper arms. He shoved me against the wall hard enough that the back of my head hit it and bounced back. I blinked past a sharp, shooting pain, working to stay focused.
“I think we should talk now,” he told me, close enough that I could smell the mint on his breath.
Fearing coursing through my veins like blood, I did my best to stay calm. I didn’t want him to know how badly he was freaking me out right now. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what your secret is.”
“What secret?” I asked, genuinely at a loss as to what he was talking about.
He released my arms so he could gesture to the store surrounding us. “I couldn’t help but notice your flourishing business. You see, I’m a small business owner, too. I’ve been watching your little shop and even a blind man can see that you’re doing marvelously well given that you just lost half your store in a terrible fire.” He gestured to the wall that had just been replaced. “Did insurance cover that?”
I pursed my lips together. I quickly shuffled through my options. Now that he’d let me go, I could try to shove at him and make a break for it, but how far would I get? And what would he do then? My recent experience was telling me two things: don’t try to run, because I won’t make it, and don’t show fear, because he’ll use it against me.
So I did the only thing I could. I pulled myself up straighter, lifted my chin, and stared him directly in the face. “Get the hell out of my shop.” My voice was firm and strong, despite the way my hands were shaking and just how scared I really was.
He laughed at me. “Or what?” he asked.
Running on instinct, my hand went to the apron I hadn’t taken off yet. I slipped it into the little pouch at the front and felt around inside. There. Cold, hard metal. I gripped the pair of scissors in my hand tightly and pulled them out. “Or this,” I told him, jerking the tip of the scissors between his legs and pressing them into his thigh right beside his crotch.
He stiffened and I saw a flash of anger in his expression, but then he smiled at me and held up his hands. Still smiling, he took a step back. “Easy, honey, we’re just talking,” he told me and I was reminded of the cop who had called me hysterical.
I gritted my teeth, holding the scissors tightly and not taking my eyes off the stranger.
He headed towards the door, but I could tell in the way he moved that he wasn’t really afraid of me. And the only reason he was leaving was because this had been about scaring me. Check that little box off. He reached for the door, then paused. “Oh, and tell Ethan I was asking for him.”
He left, the little bell tinkling after him, and I released the breath I’d been holding. I slumped against the wall, sliding down to the floor. There I
sat, shaking and shocked, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now.
# # #
It turned out that the thing to do was exactly what the man had said: go to Ethan and inform him he’d gotten a visitor at my shop.
Which was why I was now at Ethan’s Diner, waiting in the back hallway with Louis while Ethan finished up some business. I’d called my neighbor to ask her to watch Cody for a little longer as I was held up at work, and she’d been gracious enough to accommodate me.
“Of course, honey. Cody’s an angel.”
I’d smiled at that and agreed with Mrs. Rogers wholeheartedly. “Can I talk to him for a minute?”
The lady went to fetch him and then I heard the shuffling of the phone, followed by, “Momma?”