Disruption

by Victoria Johns

  Bailey’s breath panted and she groaned inside my mouth, and I knew that when she went, she was going to go off like a rocket. I was so painfully hard, that I figured I’d be jacking off to the memory of this for a while.

  “Come, Bailey. Fucking soak me.” I looked at her face and liked what I saw, my beard had smeared her lipstick and she looked raw and filthy.

  “Fuck me, Zane,” she begged instantly.

  I wanted that.

  I couldn’t do that.

  I wouldn’t fuck her like some tramp against a wall in her old childhood bathroom. She deserved more than that and I would want more than that from this chance encounter. That wouldn’t just be us crossing a bridge of no return, it would be me strapping a bomb to it and blowing it to smithereens.

  Doing the only thing I could to bring it to a close, I dug my finger and thumb deeper into the wet fabric of her panties, in search of her clit and pinched it tight when I found it. Bailey wailed and it was louder than I expected, so I covered her mouth with my own again and my nut sack screamed for the same relief in return.

  As I kissed Bailey to bring her down from her high, I felt a pulse in my head.

  What the fuck had I done?

  I’d gone against my promise to her brother and done something I didn’t want to take back. More than that, I wasn’t sure I could actually stop now I’d had my hands on her and seen what she looked like when she came.

  As the kiss came to a natural end, I began to pull back, someone needed to gather control of what was going on in this room.

  “Zane,” she began.

  “Get rid of him and don’t see him again, or I’ll take his life apart piece by piece.”

  It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, a command even. Before she could argue with me, I backed away and left her in the bathroom. If I stayed there, I’d bend her over and fuck her ten times sideways until neither of us could walk.

  With my heart in my mouth, I fled down the stairs and straight out the door. Every inhale I made, I smelled her, and it killed me. I couldn’t see her again right now and I didn’t want to see Jameson, I was worried he would see straight through me and know how I’d just betrayed him.

  The valet delivered my car quickly and before Bailey or anyone else could hunt me down, I put the car in gear and fled down the long, gravel driveway.

  “Fuck!” I bellowed, like the caged animal I was and as I took my frustration out on my hair, her scent was on my hand and I picked it up immediately as it passed my face. The aroma from her pussy was thick on my fingers and it was divine, intoxicating, and because I couldn’t resist myself, I put my fingers in my mouth and licked them clean.

  Once home, I began pacing like an alcoholic who’d had a drink and fucked up his sobriety. The disappointment and regret crept in, but more than anything I wanted to do it again, have that one last drink, last fix of my addiction.

  I showered, fucked my own palm repeatedly until I was exhausted with the memory of her and then climbed naked, beneath simple cotton sheets. I didn’t want to think about where she was. I didn’t want to think that she might be with him and he could be getting what should be mine. I’d never wanted something so badly in my whole life and was beginning to regret losing my grip on the situation and following her upstairs. Sleep was going to be a million miles away tonight.

  My cell rang and I reached for it off the nightstand. “Bish?”

  “Plane will be on the tarmac at San Juan at one o’clock tomorrow, the house is ready, and a car will be waiting for you at the other side. See you when you get back.”

  “I’ll keep in touch.”

  “No, you won’t. Don’t even think about me or the fucking business.” Without so much as a bon voyage he hung up.

  I tossed and turned unable to get her out of my head.

  I was certain of only two things.

  Firstly, I’d fucked up, it was a mistake; and secondly, I wanted more of her. Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked up my cell and sent a text.

  [Flying to Hawaii tomorrow at 1pm. Jet at San Juan. Come with me]

  I didn’t get a reply before sleep claimed me.

  The following day, I sat on the plane nervous and jumpy as the pilot took me through our flight plan. I couldn’t concentrate on a single word and my eyes kept flitting to the tarmac desperate to see her rolling a case across the blacktop on her way to me.

  At five minutes after one, the air hostess who had smacked her rosy red enhanced lips at me as she served me a glass of Bollinger, appeared again looking nervous.

  “Sir, the pilot mentioned there may be an additional passenger, he’s asked me to let you know the tower is requesting we depart, we’re five minutes behind our scheduled take off time.”

  I looked up at the girl, those lips were really irritating me. The pilot, clearly a spineless asshole, had sent her to further irritate me and even worse, Bailey had added to that, she was more than irritating me.

  I’d put myself out there and she hadn’t turned up for the plane.

  Yesterday, I’d gone against my brother and had become instantly addicted.

  I was pissed that I’d convinced myself to want more and go for it.

  I had been willing to put my relationship with him on the line for Bailey Roach, but as the door shut on the plane and we began to taxi down the runway, no matter how much Bollinger I glugged back, I couldn’t shake the bitter taste of disappointment because she’d not chosen me.

  I guess fucking the rosy red-lipped air hostess bimbo would have to do until I got Bailey out of my system.

  Chapter Eight

  My Hawaii break hadn’t got off to the start I’d expected, and I laid all that blame squarely at Bailey Roach’s feet.

  Climbing down the steps of the private jet, I was going through the motions. Two pretty, local girls awaited my arrival and smiled as they wrapped two lei’s around my neck, then I spotted the car waiting for me. Bishop had a sense of humor that he rarely let people see, he knew I watched reruns of Hawaii Five-O and the fucker had got me a Camaro. I could picture him laughing as he arranged it. It was when the guy who handed over the keys smirked and struggled to say, “Enjoy the car, Commander McGarrett,” that I laughed for the first time in well over a day.

  My place on Maui’s north shore could be called a slum compared to what I was used to. But I liked it that way. It was understated, normal, and like that for a reason, because here I wanted to blend in and go about my business. I didn’t want to be boss of the family, Zane Teague, every single day. By contrast to most rich people who owned estates here, this was like a weekend apartment, but it still sat on forty-seven thousand square feet and was just over ten million dollars when I bought it. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was on a bachelor party and had had enough of the predictability of it all, so escaped. It was then I bumped into a woman sitting in a suit at the hotel where we were staying and got talking to her, she told me how she was going to lose her job if she failed to make a sale before the end of the week. As we talked, she expected nothing from me and that felt like a rarity, everyone always expected something from me.

  Before she could argue, I agreed to go and see the place she was trying to sell, I’d lied and said I was a big shot realtor from the mainland, and I would give her some pointers on getting people through the door. Little did I know she’d become one of the most important people in my remote operation. That woman became the madame of all madame’s. She kept my crop of girls safe, got them up to standard and then oversaw them until they were sold.

  Like back then, when I drove to the house, I remembered that feeling of being miles away from where I needed to be. The pressure of being Zane Teague, the man with everything on his shoulders and always under scrutiny, seeped from me.

  This was an escape. A time when I could kick back and be someone normal. It felt right to be here, and when I’d taken over my father’s empire, I’d moved part of our skin trade here. It had become too much of a risk to keep up the flow of
Mexican girls, taking them from Thailand, that side of the world was much more of a money spinner, and no one missed them. Hawaii was a halfway house, kind of like a port of my own. The bidding was done over the internet and then they were dispatched from there. The only crew I had to keep sweet here was the Yakuza. Moving my operation had cut out the need to pay the Jamaicans, Italians and Mexicans all vying for a piece of the pie at the old location.

  The house had four reasonably sized bedrooms and five bathrooms with most of them facing the ocean, even the sunken bath had views out to nothing but water. I’d hardly heard anything the woman said to me as I walked around. It was only when we walked out of the back of the property that she asked me my opinion on what the main selling point was. My reply was simple; ‘It’s sixty-seven steps from the house till your toes hit the sand. Sixty-seven steps to heaven,’. I scrunched the grainy gold dust between my toes, and I felt the façade that I worked hard to maintain for everyone else fade. “I’ll take it.”

  The woman had looked at me in shock, close to tears and to this day, Roxanne Elks is the only one I still make time to see for drinks when I’m on the island. Anyone else I see is purely for business. But once Roxanne and I got to know each other, we agreed real estate wasn’t her forte, but I could give her a job doing something completely different. She just needed to be caring, strict and above all else, carry out my wishes. I was honest about what was required, and she got on board. With her eyes wide open, she jumped in and understood the sacrifice she was making. I would want her all, her complete attention and that failure to put me first could cost her.

  Still, she agreed.

  I had come here alone. I didn’t need protection. Those who needed to know of my arrival would already know, those that worked for me anyway. The others, we had an understanding and I paid them well to stay out of my business.

  I needed no one. The house had been stocked and catered for my arrival, there were bars and clubs on the island to pick up women and if that didn’t occupy me the house had a cinema-quality TV. I literally had everything I needed to kick back and relax. Being there was freeing. I was no longer the stressed businessman. I was simply a man on vacation. The only reminder of the man I normally was, was the Teague family moto that adorned my chest.

  Loyalty. Respect. Family.

  After spending most of my second day making the most of the waves either wind surfing at speed across the shoreline by my house or sat drifting in them, just… being, I decided to call Roxanne. We had business to catch up on, and over a beer or two, she’d tell me what I needed to know about the whores I was trafficking around the globe from a little island just off the coast here.

  She was thrilled to hear from me, and I was looking forward to seeing her. Our relationship easily drifted into a platonic friendship; but mostly, a boss and employee relationship, for that reason I let Bishop or Jameson deal with things. I received word that she was recently married, and I’d made it clear her profession was to remain a secret from her new husband. That was a rule I laid out for her, and she knew the consequences of betraying that request. For him, they’d be catastrophic.

  Taking an Uber to Diamonds—a venue that was a mixture of quiet bar, busy dancefloor, good food and cocktails—I found Roxanne was already sat at a table. Approaching from behind, I leant over her long main of thick black hair and kissed her cheek, surprising her.

  “Shit, Zane!” She put her hand to her chest. “You shouldn’t do that to someone in my condition. We’re likely to pee ourselves.”

  I followed her eyeline to see what she was referring and saw the baby bump she was affectionately stroking.

  “Jesus!” The word I wanted to use wasn’t so polite but screaming ‘fuck’ in the middle of the place would draw attention, and probably panic the baby right out of her.

  How did I not know that my main lady boss was pregnant? Did Bishop know and keep it from me?

  Immediately, I knew this was a problem, and it was going to be a big fucking problem. Smiling through my annoyance, my brain whirred at a million miles an hour wondering how to make the problem go away.

  “Exactly, a golden shower in a public place is not the way to pick up women,” she blurted out.

  “I was going to ask what’s new, but I can see that. Are you okay?” Was it wrong that I maybe hoped she’d be giving that spawn of inconvenience up for adoption?

  When Roxanne smiled the most genuine of smiles back at me and placed her hands instinctively on her belly, the issue escalated in my head.

  “Over the moon,” she said, rubbing her belly. “Graham is beside himself.”

  Clearly not as beside himself as I was. So, no, not the adoption joy I was hoping for.

  I was invited to their wedding the year before but had politely declined and then sent something horrifically expensive from her gift list. I’d not met him, but I’d had him looked into when Bishop mentioned things looked like they could go the distance. Nothing much had come back, but still he was clearly far too trusting. If I had a partner, I’d make damn sure they knew what I did for a living, and I was fairly certain that if that person found out I was the ring leader who force fed kidnapped women that wanted to kill themselves, instead of being the sex slaves they were destined for, I probably wouldn’t like them sitting in a bar talking to the boss who employed her to do that, like her job was a normal run of the mill thing. I wouldn’t even let my wife breathe the same air as people like me, let alone work for them. Fuck no.

  Which was why I wanted Bailey. Not only did I love her, but she already accepted me for who I was, and always had. I didn’t have to lie.

  “I don’t see a ring on your finger yet.” Roxanne brought me out of my thoughts as she waved at a passing waiter who brought over a bottle of beer that she had clearly lined up when she ordered whatever soft drink she was drinking.

  “No.” My reply was dead-panned, and she didn’t miss it.

  Roxanne stopped mid movement, the straw on the way to her mouth and threw a concerned look at me. “What? Something’s changed. Who is she?”

  “No one,” I brushed it off.

  “I don’t buy it, that look is new. Did you let someone get away and regret it?”

  It was on the top of my tongue to be honest. Tell her that I’d put myself out there, but the girl didn’t feel the same. But, even if we were friends, I was still Roxanne’s boss and I wouldn’t confide in her about those kinds of things. Too much in my own head, I didn’t answer her quick enough

  “Shit,” she gasped, putting down her drink. “It was you who got turned down. Well, this is refreshing.”

  “That’s enough wallowing in my misery.” I attempted to make a joke out of it, but I wanted to go and punch something, someone, anyone.

  In a moment that defined the connection she’d made with me when we first met and one that solidified why she was an absolute gem and Graham was a lucky bastard, she leaned forward and put her hand on my knee. “What can I do?”

  “You can tell me all about that bundle of screaming skin you’ll be hatching soon. Are you ready? Shit, this is going to cost me another expensive gift, isn’t it?”

  It was also going to mean I probably had to fire her, I couldn’t see any other way. And firing someone who knew the inner workings of one of your most illegal ventures wasn’t just as simple as giving them a glowing reference. There was only one way I’d been taught, and of all the things I’d done as a boss, leaving a baby motherless wasn’t high on my bucket list.

  I pushed it to one side and just like that, we were back to normal and I was lost in all the goodness that was her married life. Two hours later, I could see she was tired and uncomfortable as she kept shifting her position and wiggling until her back was settled.

  “Come on, let’s call it a night.”

  “But I don’t get out often,” she moaned.

  “And had I known you were in this condition you wouldn’t be out now either.”

  Or still in my fucking employ.

 
Roxanne wrestled her hind up before I could offer her help and said, “I’ll drive you home, save you getting a taxi.”

  When we were on the road, I was immediately taken back to the first time she drove me out to the house, only this time, she was in a far flashier car and living nicely off a life I’d made possible for her. Pulling up outside the house, I saw the moon was high in the sky and was looking forward to watching it bounce off the waves before I went to bed.

  Roxanne went to get out. “Stay put,” I ordered.

  She gave a relieved sigh and I leaned across and pecked her on the cheek. It felt like the start of a goodbye, the end of one of my less troublesome working partnerships. I was never one to shy away from awkward situations, but this one felt like it could do a lot of damage.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the baby, Rox?”

  “You know why,” she spoke in a weak whisper.

  “Were you just planning on never telling me?”

  Roxanne looked at me. “You’d have found out eventually, someone would have told you.”

  I sighed, “I don’t—”

  “Don’t say it. I can still do my job.”

  Roxanne looked at me, her eyes pleading with me to keep things as they were. But I didn’t see how she could. A baby made her emotional. Emotions wouldn’t work when dealing with kidnapped whores. There was a good chance that this fucking hormonal experience would upset the balance of everything. At the moment, she mothered when she needed to and became the exact opposite when it was called for. I was used to dealing with a woman who lied to her husband, not someone who lied and kept things from me. Being prepared to deceive the man she married, made her trustworthy in my eyes and loyal to me. I was used to Roxanne putting me and my business first, and if that was in jeopardy, she was a liability.

  “You know this changes things, right?” I said it softly, more softly than I’d ever spoken in a business conversation before.