The Perfect Gift: A Bad Boy Christmas Romance

by Mia Ford

  Tonight, though, that smile was different, big, wide, friendly. He put his arm around Archie Dee and tucked the smaller man right into his side like the good buddies they had always been. If my brother had a soft spot, it wasn’t for his strippers, and it wasn’t for me. It was for Archie. Something had bound them together as kids, but I’d only been a baby then, so I wasn’t in on that secret.

  The lighting had changed to flashing red lights, casting an eerie glow over the dark hallway, and then I heard the guitar. I knew what was coming next. Glimmer’s favorite song. I happened to like it too, and for a moment I lost myself to the music and started bouncing and swaying in the hallway until I caught myself. Occupational hazard I guess, or maybe it was just me. Did I like to dance? I sure damn did, but dancing in this place was a bad and dangerous precedent to set. Richie could always change his mind and decide to give me a promotion. Lots of guys had begged him to put me on the stage. The thought made me gag. I didn’t even like them looking at me in the low-cut blouses Richie made me wear. I died a little inside every time I had to put one on.

  I crept a little closer so I could hear them over the pulse of Shook Me All Night Long.

  “That was a good thing you did, friend,” Richie said. “I won’t soon forget it. Archie here is a friend for life.”

  Something was wrong with Archie’s hand because he kept it cupped against his chest, and every time Richie moved, Archie winced and sent a tight smile toward the man in the shadows. He was tall, built like the hero on the cover of the book I kept on my nightstand, with a head of dark hair that curled against the nape of his neck. Below the sleeves of his black T-shirt, his arms were loaded with tats, not scary ones like Butch’s but beautiful artwork that drew the eye.

  “He looked like he could use a hand,” the man said. “Bad pun, Archie. Sorry.”

  “No problem,” Archie said, cupping his hand closer. Richie jostled him again, and Archie grimaced. My brother was such a dick.

  “Archie should stay out of the pool halls,” Richie said. “He sucks balls at it.”

  The stranger laughed, and when I heard it, the sound shot straight through my body and my pussy clenched on emptiness. Jesus.

  “Aw, Richie, that ain’t true. I’m okay at pool.”

  “Not good enough to hustle the big boys,” Richie said.

  “I just needed a little extra dough.”

  “Bullshit,” Richie muttered. “I’m not good enough to you? Don’t I take care of you?”

  Archie scratched at the arm cradled against him and, even in the dim light, seemed to pale. My brother generally kept him supplied with drugs and liquor, but Archie must have gone through his allotment for the month. Richie wasn’t going to be happy about that. He liked to keep Archie malleable but mostly in the here and now. Too many junkies dropped out of reality, and that wouldn’t serve my brother at all.

  “You do, Richie,” Archie murmured. “Like I said, I just needed some extra dough, you know, for my kids and shit. That damn bitch has been on my back again.”

  Richie sighed. “You should have come to me.” He dropped into his leather chair and twisted it back and forth, his hands loose on the armrests. I’m not sure I’d ever seen my brother so relaxed. It had to serve a purpose, and seeing it made me nervous. “You’re a damn fool, Arch. You could have been killed. Hustling Otto is the fast track to the morgue.”

  “I wasn’t hustling…at least not Otto,” Archie said. “There was some rube from Ohio there. Thought he was all that. I was playing him. Otto was taking down some guy on another table, and he was in a great mood up until the fight started.”

  Archie ran out of steam and hung his head.

  “And?” Richie said.

  Archie drew in a deep breath. “And then he noticed the money missing from his table and blamed me.” He scratched his head. “I don’t know who started that fight. Came out of nowhere.”

  “That true?” Richie asked, eyeing the stranger.”

  “True from what I saw,” the stranger said, nodding. “Some big guy at the next table threw a bottle and all hell broke loose.”

  My pulse picked up as I stared at him. I hadn’t even seen his face, but the timbre of that voice did something to my insides. I knew this was the man I wanted.

  The men’s voices became more muted, but it sounded as though they were rehashing the fight, and the stranger laughed as he talked about Otto. When I heard his laugh, the sound shot straight through my body and my pussy clenched again. My breath caught at the sensation, and for a split second, I was afraid they’d heard me because the mystery man turned slightly, his gaze darting toward the open door.

  Jesus, he was good looking.

  “So, Richie, about the job…” Archie scratched at his arm again, clearly needing out of there.

  “What do you think of Pussy Whipped?” Richie asked.

  The tall man laughed. “Depends on the lady.”

  “Good one,” Archie said then murmured helpfully, “But he means the club.”

  “I get it, Archie. It’s a great club. First-class ass. Love the classic rock vibe too. Too many clubs play all that new shit. You can’t go wrong with classic rock.”

  “So, Richie, Danny here is looking for work. I kind of thought you’d help him out,” Archie said. “After he helped me out and all.”

  “And we always make good on promises around here,” my brother said. Truer words had never been spoken, and in my brother’s case, those promises often ended in real pain. Why anyone would willingly take a job in this place was beyond me.

  “Do you want to work here, Mr. O’Shea?”

  “I could use the cash,” the man said. “Like I told Archie on the way over, I’m looking to start a new life with new opportunities.”

  Richie gave him the eye. “Was the old life so bad?”

  “Depends on your definition of bad,” the guy shot back.

  Richie sat forward in his chair and folded his hands on his desk. His “businessman” persona.

  “What the hell. I’ll give you a shot. We always need good bouncers here at the club. Day shift to start. It’s a good training ground. Not much happens during the day. Still, we like a solid presence to show we mean business and our girls are not to be touched without permission. Until after the guy pays, of course, for a little backroom action.” Richie winked. “Butch here can show you the ropes tomorrow. Be here around noon.”

  I hadn’t noticed Butch slinking around in the opposite corner. He grunted now, not seeming too happy with the new hire or the added responsibility of training him. Butch liked to sleep in until early afternoon and then spend his shift staring at me and making my life as miserable as possible.

  “Sounds great, Mr. Silvestri,” the man said, sticking out his hand. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

  “Richie,” he said with that pleasant, almost unrecognizable smile. “Mr. Silvestri is my dead father.” He laughed, and there he was, the brother I knew, the one that made my heart sink every time I saw him.

  They shook hands and exchanged a few words, and then as I heard my brother tell Butch he needed to get Archie to the hospital, the stranger turned. I caught a better look of his face, and I froze, my eyes wide, my hands clenched. I simply couldn’t move. I felt as though I’d been caught in a magnetic pull.

  His face was as gorgeous as I expected. His dark hair was combed back from his forehead but fell in soft waves against the sides of his face. He had an Italian look to him, but the name O’Shea meant Irish. Black Irish. I’d read about them in the historical novels I devoured. His cheekbones stood out prominently, and dark, penetrating eyes locked on mine.

  We stared at one another as he pulled the door closed and began to walk in my direction. Walking wasn’t quite the right word though. This man prowled, like a jungle cat, like a predator walking toward prey. And like a rabbit caught in a snare, I just stood there waiting for the inevitable.

  His gaze went from my eyes down my face to stop where my robe gapped just a bit. I fe
lt the heat of that gaze on the swell of my tits, rising and falling as my breath grew ragged. His stare left a trail of fire, and beads of sweat popped out along my skin. I was sure it was from the intensity of that stare, though it might have been from standing in a hot hallway in a flannel bathrobe. He continued to stare, his gaze wandering from my cleavage to my hips and lower to my bare toes, which I curled against the dirty wood floor.

  Finally, I managed to shake myself out of my near-catatonic state. I put my finger to my lips and said, “Shhh…”

  A smile curled up the corners of his mouth, and then he pulled an invisible zipper across his lips. He made a little gesture with his finger, flicking it between himself and me, and then he cupped his crotch and winked.

  I almost giggled but managed to hold it in by pressing my lips together. I shook my head as I smiled. He put his hand over his heart and made a pouty face. As I walked backward toward the staircase, I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off him. He strolled down the dark hallway as though he owned it. I was turning to go up just as he reached me, and I gasped and jerked when his hand landed across my ass in a quick, snapping slap.

  I whirled around and met dark eyes glittering with both danger and desire.

  “Couldn’t resist that ass.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Until we meet again, Miss…”

  “Silvestri. Hannah Silvestri.”

  He shot a glance down the hall, his brows furrowed. “Fuck me. You’re married to Richie?”

  “No, no, no,” I whispered furiously. “He’s my brother.”

  His smile widened. “Danny O’Shea.” He took my hand off the bannister and lifted it to his lips. The kiss was sweet and gentle but molten hot, sending rivulets of lava boiling through my veins and down my spine. When he lifted his face, he gave me a wink and gestured up the stairs with a toss of his head. “We’ll save this for another day, Miss Hannah. Beat it before you get in trouble and I end up six feet under.”

  He continued down the hall as if he wouldn’t care in the world.

  When I came back down to earth with a heavy, almost happy sigh, I found Butch staring at me from the T-junction, a dark thundercloud encircling his huge frame. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could.

  Chapter Five: Richie Silvestri

  “He gone?” I asked when Butch lumbered back into the office.

  “Fuck that guy,” Butch muttered. His ugly mug looked uglier than usual. Danny O’Shea hadn’t impressed him much. “He’s trouble, boss.”

  “They’re all trouble, Butchie boy, but you know my motto. Surround yourself with trouble, so you have someone to blame things on when the shit goes south.”

  “Not sure about that,” Butch said, glancing at the doorway. “This one might be different.”

  “He’s just a guy looking for work,” Archie said.

  “There’s no such thing as just a guy looking for work, you fucking pussy,” Butch said.

  “Fuck you,” Archie shot back.

  “Easy, boys,” I said. “Tell me again, Archie. How’d you meet this guy?”

  I rounded on Archie, happy to see he cringed just a bit. It never hurt to remind him who was in charge around here.

  I loved the guy like a slow brother, had since I’d pulled him out of a toilet when we were grade school. I still didn’t know why I’d done it. Something about seeing a little kid floundering in shit I guess. My dad hadn’t been the nicest guy, and I’d had my fair share of shit swirlies from that abusive bastard. Pulling Archie up by the collar and wiping the crap off his face, and the vomit off his clothes after he puked, made us brothers of a kind. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and not even the strongest, but he’d always had my back, and I’d always had his. I guess when you knew the world was already out to get you at the age of eight you needed someone in your corner. Archie was in mine. Probably the only one there by choice.

  So, I was stuck with him, and most often I didn’t mind it, but sometimes he made my life a lot harder than it should be. Like tonight. The guy didn’t have a fucking brain in his skull, and I didn’t buy for a minute that he’d been hustling pool for money to give his kids. He hadn’t seen those damn kids in eight months. I knew that because I had to send him with a driver out to Arlington Heights when that bitch ex of his had remarried, to a goddamned chiropractor of all things, and moved out of the city.

  Archie had been trying to score money for his habit, and that meant trouble because I supplied Archie with exactly the right amount that worked for me.

  “Well, Archie?” I settled in my chair and waited.

  “I already told you.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “Like I said, just a guy,” he stuttered. “He did me a solid. Otto could have killed me, Richie. He had me by the fucking neck.”

  “No big loss,” Butch said. “You’re as worthless as tits on a bull.”

  I cut a glance to Butch to shut him up. He wisely shut his trap.

  Archie looked at the floor. “I’m trying to help a guy out is all.”

  “Where’d you say he’s from?”

  Archie swallowed. “Don’t know. He mentioned Iowa.”

  “That dude ain’t from Iowa,” Butch said.

  “H-he didn’t say he was born there,” Archie said. “Only that it was a shithole state and he didn’t want to park there. Ran out of money or something.”

  “I don’t give a fuck if he came from Mars,” Butch said. “I don’t like his attitude. All cocky and shit.”

  “You’re all cocky and shit,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, well, he ain’t me, okay? He ain’t earned the right to be cocky around here.”

  “True, true, but I suspect you’ll keep him in his place.”

  “We don’t need another bouncer,” Butch said. “Got bouncers up the ass around here.”

  “Because we have pussy up the ass here,” I said. “Some of these drunks think they can cop a feel any time they want, and that doesn’t fly here. If they want their fingers to smell like pussy, they gotta pay. If they want a blowjob, they gotta pay. If they want to fuck someone in the ass, they gotta pay.” I spread my hands and smiled. “You can’t do it all, Butch, and I know for a goddamned fact some of these so-called bouncers, the men I pay, are skimming from me. I need you focused on that.”

  “I’ll focus. Got it, boss.”

  “Let this guy handle the nitty-gritty and you focus on this damn thief. I know the girls are doing their damn jobs making me dough, and almost every night, the till seems lighter than it should be. Once I know which of them is snatching money right out of my goddamned pocket, you can deal with that too. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Butch smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  “Good. So, train this new guy to look after the girls. He’s new blood, so it’ll take a while for him to start getting brave enough to steal from me. In the meantime, he reports to you, so watch him close.”

  “No problem,” Butch said, cracking his thick knuckles. “I’ll watch him like a fucking hawk.”

  A hawk. I needed Butch to be a pit bull. Not a fucking hawk.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and glanced at the clock. I hated doing business after midnight. “Get Archie to the hospital and get that hand fixed. No painkillers. I don’t need him jacked up on something else.”

  “Ah, Richie, I ain’t jacked up.”

  I stared at the scratches on his arm, where he’d been digging at himself with his raggedy fingernails.. “Sure you’re not.” I leaned forward. “I’m serious as a heart attack here, Arch. No painkillers. I don’t care if you have to put a stick between your teeth. You hear me?”

  Archie nodded miserably.

  “Now get out of here.” I reached toward my desk drawer for my bottle of scotch.

  “One other thing, boss.”

  Huffing out a sigh, I glanced up to find Butch shuffling his feet. There was something he didn’t want to tell me, but he would—because he was a good little soldier. “What?”

 
“The dude…he saw Hannah, out on the stairs.”

  Jesus Christ. As though I didn’t have enough trouble. If that little bitch was sneaking around stirring up those dancers again about better pay and shit, she was going to find herself in a world of hurt. The last time I’d lost three of my best girls, along with some of my best-paying clientele. If these cunts wanted health benefits, they were in the wrong place. Let them try to find another job with no skills but big bouncy tits, cocksucking lips, and a damp pussy.

  “What the fuck was she doing out there?” I asked.

  “Don’t know.” He cracked his knuckles again, his mind obviously still on O’Shea. “She was wearing that ratty old robe that looks like shit.”

  “Hmm…” If she hadn’t been dressed, she probably wasn’t stirring shit up, at least not tonight. “Hungry I guess. Did she have food?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  “So did they talk?”

  “A couple words I guess,” Butch said. “She looked flustered, but I didn’t like the way they were looking at each other.”

  “And how was that?”

  “All cow-eyed and giggly. Made me want to puke.”

  “You’re just jealous,” Archie muttered.

  Butch turned on Archie so fast the smaller man stumbled and fell back against the desk. He cried out and clutched his hand tighter.

  “Shut your goddamned mouth, you fucking junkie piece of shit.”

  “Down, Butch,” I said with a sigh that let them know I was getting bored with their sit. “It’s no secret around here you’ve got a massive hard-on for my little sis. It’s a done deal, you’ll be family. She’ll come around…eventually. You just gotta be patient. Gotta catch that sexy fly with honey, and the way I see it, what you been dishing out ain’t honey.”

  “I try,” Butch said, sulking.

  I’d been watching Butch pant after Hannah for years, even since she sprouted tits at fourteen and started smelling like pussy instead of peanut butter and Kool-Aid. Did I want Butch as a brother-in-law? No fucking way. But I needed someone in the family to keep Hannah under control. There was only so much a brother could do. She needed a firmer hand, and though I never minded a bit of violence, I’d promised my dead mother I’d never hurt her little girl. A promise was a promise.