Disruption

by Victoria Johns

  “Bishop!” I called him back. “Need to head by Bailey’s office, looks like we’ve got a launch party to accommodate.”

  “We’ll need to—”

  “I know,” I answered, cutting him off. We’d need to make sure no other business was going to take place that night, just to be on the safe side.

  “I’ll get that ball rolling while you’re with her.”

  I waited for him to come and collect me, and because I was a sadistic motherfucker, I made sure I was well groomed and irresistible. My shirt was crisp, my jacket cut across my shoulders perfectly and the belt I wore at my waist had just enough about it to draw her eye to that region. My hair and beard looked fresh, both scented with Tom Ford products. I wanted her, and any chance I got to tease the fuck out of her was well worth it. I’d been doing it for as long as I could remember, and one day, I’d forget the promise I made and take what was owed to me because the situation with Jameson and his overprotective nature was getting beyond ridiculous.

  Chapter Five

  “Good Morning, Emily,” I threw her a casual smile at the end of my greeting as I walked through the glass door to Roach Beverages.

  “Uh… Ah… Mr. Teague, Miss Roach is—”

  Emily was efficient, but unfortunately for her, no one got in my way and she figured that out when she tried to get out of her office chair quickly and step in front of me. Because of whom I was, she rethought it when I sneered at her and she soon stepped back out of the way.

  When I threw open Bailey’s office door without so much as a knock, I realized why she was so keen to stop me.

  And so did my dick.

  Bailey was bent over her desk in just a bra and skirt, leaning over some material with a handful of paper towels.

  All I could focus on was her cleavage and it was fucking amazing. She was all perky in a sage green and slate grey bra and I was no expert on the size of women’s tits, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d go with, way too much for a handful but perfect for a thoroughly enjoyable tit fuck. Her nipples were big. Christ, so fucking huge that having them in my mouth would be like licking at a melting popsicle but having to do it quick to keep on top of the job. I fucking loved that they were barely contained in her bra.

  “Fuck!” I growled, compelled to react to the most beautiful sight before me.

  “Christ, Zane! Shut the door.”

  I reached behind me for the handle and shut the door, only realizing my mistake, I was trapped on the inside of the room with her and felt like a caged lion needing to fuck and rut my way out of it.

  “At least turn around! And pick your jaw up off the floor.”

  I was surprised she was looking at my face, all the blood must have drained south and visible to both of us.

  “Fucking Starbucks didn’t put the lid on my coffee properly,” she complained.

  The last thing I wanted to do was turn around, especially as my brain was still processing the thought of ‘Bailey and tit fuck.’ My dick wanted in on some of that, and I was in danger of having the biggest boner since the last one, a few seconds ago.

  Christ, I needed to jerk off in the shower again.

  Willing myself to think about anything other than her tits, I wondered whether I should send a gift basket to the barista in Starbucks or ring Bishop and tell him to meter out a beating while he was there for leaving me with an image that would be seared into my brain for decades to come.

  “You good?” I asked, sneaking a peak at her reflection in the window glass to my side.

  “Yeah.”

  Although I knew she was pissed off, she draped the coffee-stained shirt over her shoulders, but I could still only focus on the very outer edge of her nipples as she casually did up the tiny pearl buttons. I could do nothing but salivate as I watched her progress further down towards and her very tanned, very smooth stomach. That skin would look amazing covered in my cum.

  I also spotted the edges of a tattoo that I hadn’t known about, peeking above the waistband of her skirt. Disappointingly, Bailey was quick to hide it. I’d known her belly button was pierced, and I didn’t need to see the huge, two carat diamond solitaire sitting perfectly in it to be reminded of that. I’d been staring at that piercing since I was seventeen years old and we used to visit the beach or lay on the side of her parent’s pool in the summer. I upgraded the jewel in it one Christmas and was pleased as fuck to see she still wore it. It wasn’t the diamond I’d imagined I’d buy her, but I’d take it. For now. My interest piqued and I was intrigued by the tiniest scrawl of ink in a circle around the edge of her belly button. It was intricate and italic, but I was too far away to read it. The fact that she knew I’d seen it and hurried to cover it up only heightened my intrigue and where Bailey was concerned, intrigue was as alluring as the woman herself.

  “You need an office wardrobe,” I chided, thinking the best thing she could wear right now would be me.

  “I had one. But threw ‘slaw down the front of that last week and completely forgot to bring a replacement.”

  “You always did eat like you’d never see food again,” I joked.

  She wiggled her middle. “My hips agree with you.”

  I had to bite my tongue. Not just a little bit, a lot, like clamp my molars down on it, so I didn’t berate her for being ridiculous and then offer her a ten-point checklist on the very excellent merits of her hips. I figure the top item at number one of, ‘very grabbable while I pounded the fuck out of her from behind,’ wouldn’t be well received. My number two of, ‘men love to fuck something worth holding onto,’ and number three of, ‘no guy wants to fuck a woman with the figure of a boy/ironing board/skinny runway model,’ probably also wouldn’t help.

  Seriously, I needed to stop thinking about this. I could quite easily nut in my fucking pants.

  “Was Emily not out there when you got here? Or did you charm the shit out of her, and she forgot that I was in here with my girls out?”

  I sat down. Her mentioning her plump tits again made standing a risky maneuver. “I didn’t give her much chance to stop me. Don’t kick her ass. This is my bad.”

  “Whatever,” she sighed. “At least it was you. I mean, it’s like looking at your sister, right?”

  That was the sort of thing that Bailey did. Constantly. She threw these things out there, daring me to answer. It was like she understood that it physically pained me to agree with her and the fucking minx loved to tease me. Half of the time I knew she was pushing me, the other half I wondered if she was just as sick and tired of towing the party line as I was and wanted me to make a move. We both knew that she’d had years of practice at pushing my buttons and that Jameson would always forgive her any indiscretions and put them down to lack of judgment, she was his twin, his biological other. For fuck’s sake, they shared DNA, they were split eggs, or whatever shit was the correct term, so he had to forgive her.

  Me?

  I knew he held a grudge and that was exactly what he would do with me. He’d never easily forgive my betrayal. I was someone who could easily disappoint him—our bond made that possible, and I needed these two in my life. He was the link to my past, my sanity, she was the normalcy I needed in times when I was sinking, drowning in the depths of depravity that I operated in. Without the Roach twins, I wouldn’t survive. The thought of not having them in my life unleashed a feeling of fear, and that fear was of what I would become without them. Without them I would have no need to hide my mask and the rage monster could surge forward and take over, devour me completely. There’d be no coming back from the brink of that disruption like I did now.

  It would consume me.

  The more I thought about it and saw the glimpse of what I would become, the quicker my hard on deflated.

  Perfect. Back to business. As I breathed through that deflation, I brought it back to business. “I heard you want Checkmate?”

  “Yeah. Sorry, it’s really short notice, but the asshole at The Block called last night.” She huffed with indignation, no on
e fucked with Bailey’s plans. “He’s failed some permit shit or fire regulations or whatever; anyway, I can’t launch the Miami cocktail range there.”

  The thought of helping her, being her savior and hero had me wanting to jump in and cover her crisis, like always, “When are we talking about?”

  Bailey’s bit her lip distracting me, before laying out what she knew could be a challenge for me. “Thursday night. It’s all been scheduled so we have the product on the shelves in Miami for the next college break.”

  Shit, that was short notice and also one of Checkmate’s busiest nights.

  My men would usually work the dance floor like world class salesman, controlling the sale of women for the evening, renting out rooms in nearby motels we owned, and for those that couldn’t wait that short distance, we’d put them in a special VIP area, where their kink cost them dearly, but they paid anyway. Either option, we were covered with secret video equipment because you never knew when you needed leverage.

  But this was for her.

  I would bleed myself dry to give her whatever she needed. I would sell my fucking organs on the black market to see her smile at me, and believe me, that was possible, I knew a guy and had sold plenty of them on behalf of both some willing and unwilling candidates.

  “How many guests?” I looked at my limited edition Chopard watch, pretending I needed to be elsewhere. “Will I still have room for some of my regulars?”

  I saw her eyes widen just the tiniest fraction. Bailey didn’t know all the ins and outs of my business, but it wasn’t unheard of for some of the richest, most ruthless of unsavory criminals to drop in and spend the night at Checkmate, buying pussy and making the most of it.

  “Don’t panic.” I smirked, desperate to backtrack, anything to have her need my club, need me. “I get it, I’ll see that it’ll be okay.”

  It would cost me a fortune, but I’d suspend normal business for the night.

  “It’s just that the press will be there,” her voice was regretful.

  In that moment, I got the impression that she didn’t care about what I did. In fact, I was fairly sure Bailey accepted me for who I was, and it pained her to be having this conversation, but she didn’t really know it all. She also didn’t need a full-page promo on her launch night of some Mexican cartel gangster posing with a glass of her product complete with cocktail umbrella and a kidnapped whore on his arm.

  “I’ll make sure they are the right regulars,” I confirmed, letting her know I understood.

  Her look turned relieved and I knew then I’d make the club so fucking vanilla just to please her, it could be a flavor of ice popsicle ordered from the bar served by a candy striper.

  A business idea hit me on that thought. Candy striper’s look innocent and could fetch a fortune.

  Fuck, Zane, concentrate.

  Yes, I would piss off my shady motherfucking regulars in a heartbeat and no doubt regret it later, just to keep her happy.

  This is why our businesses didn’t cross paths often. Jameson would have me feel like it was because of her and my desire of her, but it wasn’t. I too didn’t want our shit to stick to her, or Roach Beverages and it was one of the many sacrifices we made when we stepped up, got our family tatt and eventually took over at the top.

  “I’ll make sure the club is available for you. What else do you need?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” Bailey picked up some papers on her desk, desperate to distract herself from our conversation. “I’d hired my own bar staff and the events coordinator was going to transform The Block from Cali to Cancun, so I’ll just have them relocate everything.”

  I despised hearing that she only wanted my building. I had staff upon staff who could get involved and make this light work for her, but she’d already got that covered. Before she could see how pissed off that made me, I rose to my feet.

  “Okay, then, I’ll leave you to your day,” I said as I pushed a hand through my hair.

  Bailey stepped from around her desk, the coffee stain only denting the completely professional ensemble she’d pieced together. Her waist nipped in at the right place and was accentuated by the skirt and tucked in blouse. The big busty rack and her sexy as fuck, peep toe shoes, showed the barest hint of a fire engine red nail polish pedicure with cute as fuck diamonds glued onto her big toenails and from top to bottom, my Bailey was the complete package.

  I froze completely as she stepped into my space, my very personal space and looped her arms around my waist.

  “Thank you, Zane.”

  Her words were all breathy and, fuck me, sensual. As soon as she settled in for a hug, I felt my blood tingle and the electricity of being near her charge through me.

  How the fuck could she not want this?

  Me?

  There was no way I was the only one affected by this shit when we were together. We even fit together perfectly like jigsaw puzzle pieces.

  “Will you… uh… be there?” Bailey glanced nervously up at me. “At Checkpoint I mean, working.”

  I looked down to her face, it was so close to mine. I could practically feel her breath and when I saw her tongue dart in and out of her mouth to wet her lips, I had to restrain myself from giving in and attacking her mouth with my own. My whole body stiffened to maintain control and composure, and when she felt it, she misread every part of it and swiftly moved out of my embrace.

  I felt the loss immediately and had to put my fingers in my pants pockets just to stop them from clawing her back into my arms, but the most crushing thing was seeing the briefest flash of hurt cross her face.

  Bailey thought she made me uncomfortable.

  Bailey thought I didn’t want to be that close to her.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong, but I needed to withdraw again, back behind the mask I’d learned to wear so many times around her.

  “I’m not sure of my schedule yet,” I replied, risking touching her by taking her hand. “But I know you don’t need me for anything, you’ve got this. I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll tell the staff to make my office available to you.”

  Her disappointment was as clear as my own and forcing those words through my lips was hard. The reality of it was true; she didn’t need me, well… she didn’t need someone like me or the complications I would add to her life.

  Chapter Six

  It was crystal clear to anyone who came close to me that I was in a foul mood, and both Bishop and I knew that was down to Bailey. It had been two fucking days and every part of that encounter in her office still swamped my senses. Her touch, her smell and most definitely the visual of her tits spilling over the top of a bra were killing me, and at night I made it worse by imagining my dick being rammed into the channel between them.

  Bishop gave me as much of a wide berth as he could, and he knew that me not being at her launch party was only going to make me ten times worse. I wanted to celebrate her brilliance. Jameson was still on his honeymoon; their parents were away on what seemed to be a permanent global vacation, so I felt like someone from her family should be there to show her just how amazing she was.

  Luckily for me and Bishop, a last-minute meeting had been scheduled and due to the nature of the attendees, I knew I had to focus on it. My plan had been to attend the meeting way across town and then go straight home. I lived in the hills for a few reasons, exclusivity a big one, the views another, but mainly it was nowhere near most of my main offices or businesses.

  “This roster doesn’t look right.”

  With the details of the previous month’s illegal card games jotted down in front of me, I looked at the five guys sat at the table with me. Four of them were in charge of very specific and cleverly segmented Teague territory across California and Nevada. The fifth guy was Bishop, who never uttered a word unless I called on him. He was my back up, my additional senses, and while I was giving most of my concentration to whoever was speaking, he watched my back and the interaction and body language of the others. It would be suicide if one of them dec
ided to take me on and not manage to finish the job, but still, caution was always a valuable friend to me. But the problem right now was that no one was saying anything at all.

  “Someone better start fucking talking.” My voice was calm, yet the build-up in my words let them in on how I really felt. In our line of work this was basic shit, and we didn’t unsettle basics that had worked in our favor for decades. “You know and I know that we do things for a reason and that reason is to stay under the radar. Adding more nights in without approval is greedy and causes headaches.”

  Right then, I could feel a fucking headache coming on, and the only way I knew to get rid of that was to fuck it out of my system or kill someone.

  Someone finally broke the deadlock. “You’ll get your cut.”

  I pivoted my head to the left seeing Mickey Dignos shake his head. I wanted to smash the cigar he was playing with between his lips into his mouth until it choked him.

  I dropped the roster and scrubbed my beard. “Not sure about that tone, but still, it’s an interesting point you raise. Would I?”

  “Of course.” He clenched his fist unconsciously, and neither Bishop nor I missed its meaning. That dig, the jab he took at me put him up front and central, but now at least I knew whose idea it was to push more card tables. “Just trying to show some initiative, you know, bring in a little extra cake.”

  Mickey Dignos was fast approaching twenty years older than me. He’d been creeping his way up the ranks since well before I pledged my life to the establishment. I always wondered why my old man had never made more of him, let him spread his wings a bit and within a year of sitting at the top of the table, I saw exactly why. He was impatient, impulsive and didn’t have the brain capacity to plan for worst case scenarios or rainy days. I made a mental note to get Ted to investigate his financial status, see what the fuck was going on in his pea-sized brain. Each of these men have more than enough cash to not need to get greedy and take risks, or so I thought.