Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love)

by Liza O'Connor

  “The sooner, the better,” she muttered.

  While Dawn liked to play the tough girl, he sensed her friend’s attack had rattled her cage as well. He got out of the car, triggered the locks, and walked around to her side. Before he could open her door, something caught his attention. Noting a man in the shadows near a large oak, he used their bar hand signals to tell her they had trouble on the right and to wait.

  Leaving her safe inside the limo, he unlatched the safety on his gun holster and walked directly to the guy. As he came closer, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. The man exuded rage and anger. Ragged red streaks ran down his left cheek.

  “You the rapist?” Sam asked in a casual tone one might ask if someone is a clerk in a store.

  “Beat it, pervert, I don’t do men.”

  “Just women, huh?”

  “I’m not telling you again, beat it.”

  “Looks like one of them tried to scratch your eyes out?” Sam smiled as he tapped his own left cheek.

  “Last warning,” the guy growled.

  “Or what?”

  Silver flashed as the man pushed off the tree and came at him. An instant later, the man screamed in pain over his broken nose as he lay face down on the sidewalk.

  Using plastic ties Sam kept in his jacket to confine the occasional out-of-control bar customer, he secured the guy. Pulling out his phone, he stepped away. “Joey, Sam. You want to pick up some trash? He might be the Brooklyn Rapist…No. I’m serious...Then put on a dark suit so you look like a limo driver and come on over. I don’t want the credit. He’s underneath the tree with a broken nose. He didn’t get a good look at me, so just let him see your face and you’ll be a hero.”

  After hanging up the phone, Sam returned to his limo and opened her door. “Sorry. Thought I saw some guy by the tree and wanted to scare him off before I let you out.”

  By the grip on his arm, and the speed of their ‘walk’ to her door, he knew she hadn’t bought his story.

  When she unlocked her door, he came in to check it out. After a brief look around the one and a half room dive, he declared, “No unwanted tenants, unless cockroaches count.”

  Dawn rolled her eyes. “They are so unwanted, but I can’t get rid of them.”

  “Try moving to a better place. That should help.”

  She chuckled. “I can barely afford this dump.” She stood in the middle of her single room and stared at him. “I really appreciate you walking me to my door.”

  He heard a ‘but it’s time to leave’ coming. “In return, perhaps you can offer me a coffee…drinkable coffee.” He shivered as he recalled the cup at the bar.

  She stared at him. “Fair enough, but then you have to go. I just got a second job, and I have to be at work at ten.”

  “Lucky you.” A yawn burst from his tire body. “I have to drive Master Trent to his office at six in the morning, even though it’s only two freakin’ blocks from his penthouse.”

  With a soft moan, she meet his gaze. “Man, I’d love to live two blocks from my job.”

  “When the home is a penthouse and the job is CEO, the pleasure of a short walk to work is lost upon the recipient of good fortune. He goes nuts if I’m not there to drive him.

  She led him to the couch. “Sit. Your coffee will be ready in two.”

  Angry screams erupted in the hallway and someone crashed against Dawn’s door. Sam stood and drew his gun.

  “Jesus!” Dawn yelped. “Put that away! It’s just my neighbors.”

  He ignored her until he heard the fighting move further down the hall. Finally, he holstered his gun.

  Storming toward him, she hissed, “Are you crazy, carrying a gun?”

  “I have a license.”

  “Why?” She snared both his hands and stepped in close.

  They both said “Master Trent” in unison. Dawn chuckled and pressed her forehead against his. “You have the strangest life.”

  Her enticing bottom lip hovered only inches away, taunting him to nibble. He shifted his head and leaned forward, only seconds from capturing it, when the coffee beeped and Dawn stepped back.

  “Coffee’s ready,” she declared with the nervous energy of a rabbit in flight.

  Sam collapsed on the couch. He’d get no sex tonight.

  She brought him a cup and sat in the chair across from his to watch him drink it.

  “Aren’t you having one?”

  She wrapped herself with her arms. “No, I need to get to sleep.”

  “Right.” He sighed.

  “You should get some sleep too.”

  His head flopped against the back of the couch and he stared up at her water-stained ceiling. “I’m dead tired, but I’ve got a two hour drive ahead of me.”

  “Two hours?” Her voice held both pity and doubt, as if she didn’t believe him.

  He closed his eyes. “I’ll try to make it in one.” The couch dip beside him.

  “Where are you driving to?”

  “Master Trent’s Long Island Estate. The job comes with free room and board.”

  “But you said you have to be back in the city at six.”

  “Good point. Think anyone would complain if I slept in the limo?”

  “Yeah, I would.”

  “Et tu Brutus?”

  She pulled the coffee from his hands then cupped the back of his head, lifting it so she could look into his eyes. “You can stay here if you want.”

  He studied her worried eyes. “Thank you.”

  She hurried from the room, no doubt wishing to wash certain parts of her body and shave her legs.

  His mental high fives ended when she returned a minute later with a pillow and two sheets.

  The limo would be more comfortable than this couch. As she set the items on the couch, he pulled her next to him.

  Guarded eyes warned him not to even bother, so he didn’t. “I have a proposition.”

  With a heavy sigh, she said, “Sam, I don’t think this is a good idea. You’re in a really strange place right now.”

  Pressing two fingers against that delicious bottom lip, he continued, “We both need sleep. Would you mind if I shared your bed? No sex. Just let me hold you so I can sleep.”

  Her eyes rounded, losing their guarded look. A faint smile pushed up the corners of her mouth. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  The phone buzzed inside his vest. Probably Joey wishing to thank him for the collar. He could leave a message; Sam needed to snag a bed for the night.

  “Okay,” she softly said and led him to her tiny closet of a bedroom.

  To make her feel safe, he undressed while she puttered in her bathroom, placed his gun beneath the mattress, and took the right side of the bed.

  He intended to cuddle with her when she returned, but she took too long.

  * * * *

  Sam woke to the faint beep of his watch. To turn it off, he had to work around Dawn, snuggled tight against him.

  A disgruntled groan rumbled from the blonde beauty who wore the sexiest teddy he’d ever seen. Certainly not something she’d wear unless ‘no’ really meant ‘yes.’ He tested his theory by running his hand down her hip. She rolled onto her back, spreading her legs so his hand had access to the ‘yes’ zone.

  Most women looked considerably worse in the morning than they did when he took them home. However, Dawn appeared even more enticing with her bedroom hair and a slight flush to her cheeks. Testing the waters further, he slipped his hand deeper between her legs. Her hips arched upward.

  “What time is it?” her groggy voice asked.

  “Five-ten.”

  “Do you have time?” Her hungry eyes met his. God, he liked her current honesty. No pretending to be asleep, no uncertainty as to what she wanted.

  “Yeah. Master Trent’s going to have to walk or call a cab. I’ve got something more important to do.”

  She rewarded him with a beautiful smile. He covered her body and devoured that delicious bottom lip.
r />   —Wednesday—

  Chapter 14

  “Where’s Sam?” Trent asked his butler as Carrie and he finished breakfast.

  Mars blinked once then replied, “He’s not here, sir.”

  “Did he go back to Long Island?” His driver had the sense of a chicken at times.

  “No, I called there. However, he did leave me a text message this morning. I fear you will need to take a hired car to work, sir.”

  Trent set down his fork. “Why, what did he say?”

  Carrie laughed as read a text on her phone. “He says ‘take a taxi or walk.’” She smiled. “I vote walk.”

  Trent pulled the phone from her hand and read the message. The fool didn’t even give a reason why he couldn’t do his job.

  Standing, Carrie retrieved and put away her phone.

  Trent gripped her arm before she could leave the table. “Hold on. Where are you going?”

  “To your room to change into my tennis shoes.”

  God save him! “We can’t walk. Someone will see me with this thing on my nose.”

  She laughed at his protest. “Well, at least you have a nose. Do you have a hat and sunglasses?”

  If he admitted he did, she’d insist on walking…in tennis shoes. “No.”

  Instead of taking him at his word and giving up her preposterous suggestion, she turned to Mars. “Does Trent have any hats and sunglasses?”

  Trent shook his head when the man looked his way.

  “No miss. All his, dare I say, stylish gangster hats are at the cleaners.”

  Touché! Mars hated his hats, declaring they possessed a decided threatening quality to them. Which was exactly why Trent liked them. He’d hoped if his hats threatened people, he wouldn’t have to.

  “Sunglasses?” She persisted. “He must have sunglasses, and don’t tell me they went to the cleaners to visit the hats?”

  Mars’ eyes rounded at her suggestion. “I would never suggest such a thing,” he stated with clear agitation.

  The absurd image of his sunglasses visiting his hats, with Mars looking on in horror, caused Trent to laugh heartedly.

  When he sobered, he discovered Carrie had snuck off. Annoyed how everyone abandoned him, he called Sam. After four rings it went to messenger. “Sam, this is your employer, the person you are supposed to drive about. It is not acceptable for you to take time off without my approval. However, I will overlook your unacceptable behavior if you arrive here in five minutes” He looked up at Mars. “I want my driver. Make it happen.”

  Mars nodded and left the room.

  Hopefully, to call Sam, but with his employees nothing was certain.

  Carrie returned, wearing her ugly tennis shoes. He closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to look at the monstrosities. “What’s on our agenda today?”

  “Well, I’ve called the company who installed our door. They regret it broke your nose.”

  “Not as much as I do,” he muttered.

  Patting his arm, she added, “They’ve promised to fix it this morning.”

  He snorted. “Meaning they’ll get around to it sometime next week. What else?”

  “I planned for us to call Mr. Marshall the moment he gets in. I’m going to start calling his private number at seven.”

  Trent tensed and held firm to her hand. “How do you have his private number?”

  She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “The card he gave you listed it.”

  Trent relaxed. “And why are we calling him?” He held his hand out to silence her. “I remember. He has to provide us free advice until he does his job.”

  Carrie sparkled with delight as she nodded. Either a good night’s sleep, the lack of a long commute, or the fact they’d slept snuggled together had his EA happier than he’d ever seen her.

  He rather hoped their snuggling had brought about the improvement.

  “Also, I need to verify that Chris, our ‘test-taking’ employee, returned and worked last night,” she added.

  He shook his head. “He probably spent his evening celebrating his passing grade on the test. And he won’t be in today because he’s looking for a new job.”

  Carrie snorted and shook her head. “Do you know how hard it is to find a fulltime job that meshes with a fulltime school schedule?”

  While he did not hold her responsible for his worthless employees, her acceptance of the situation made him want to yell. He forced a calm response, so she wouldn’t know how infuriating he found her response. “Are you saying my company is unique in offering this opportunity?”

  She grimaced and then focused on Mars, no doubt wishing to change the topic. “Mars, what is your real name?”

  The butler stared at her with his expressionless face. “Mars.”

  “No, your real real name?”

  The smallest furrow of his brow appeared for a second. “Marston.”

  Carrie must have noticed as well.

  “Oh, so you prefer Mars.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Do you know what the other butler’s real name is?”

  Mars sighed heavily and looked at Trent, evidently wanting him to put a stop to this interrogation. Instead, Trent shrugged, letting the man know he was on his own.

  His fierce gaze locked onto Carrie. “His ‘real real’ name is Martin.”

  “Oh.” She paused and then braved another question. “Does he prefer Mars as well?”

  “I couldn’t say, miss. You will have to ask him.”

  Trent chuckled as he watched Carrie give up her plan to give his butlers their true names. She looked up and grinned then resumed reading her iPhone. She lost her smile soon after. “I have to walk to work and check things out. You should stay here.”

  All his disaster alarms went off at once. “I’m going with you.”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” She stood and pointed to her ghastly tennis shoes. “I should be back in an hour or two.”

  When Carrie ran off without him, Trent knew whatever she’d read on her phone was something so awful, she didn’t dare tell him.

  He stood and turned to Mars. “Find Sam, tell him to go directly to the office and bring his gun.”

  Mars blinked three times, an all time record of shock. “You cannot shoot employees, sir. The police will arrest you, and believe me when I say this, you would not do well in the prison system.”

  “Stop telling me things I know and locate Sam. Something’s happened.” He checked himself in one of his many wall mirrors, cringing at the ugly white bandage marring his good looks. He didn’t care what he looked like, his gut told him he needed to save Carrie. “And bring me a hat and sunglasses, I’m going to work!”

  Chapter 15

  Jack’s message had Carrie terrified, given the guy was the most laid-back employee they had. He never let anything bother him. Consequently, when she received the message— SOS Come ASAP. Bring police. Barred the system door with two desks—she feared the troops had rioted. However, she also knew the police wouldn’t arrive in a timely manner unless she could articulate exactly why they should come, which unfortunately, Jack had not shared. As she neared the office, a sense of extreme danger overcame her. She looked up and stared in confusion as a filing cabinet stuck its head out her office window.

  It’s not peeking out to admire the scenery, someone is pushing it, the rational part of her brain screamed.

  Her focus went to the sidewalk below. Almost fifteen people hung about in front of the coffee shop, chatting with friends, enjoying their morning java before going to work.

  “Get off the sidewalk!” she screamed. Carrie swatted the air, trying to shoo them like large, uncooperative flies.

  A few people glanced at her, but no one moved.

  Desperate, she rushed toward them. “Bomb! Get off the sidewalk! Bomb!”

  The sidewalk emptied a few seconds before a metal filing cabinet crashed onto the sidewalk, sending shards of broken concrete and steel in all directions. She turned away from the explosion, crouching down,
her hands covering her head. Once pieces of metal and concrete stopped flying past her, she dialed 911.

  “Please help, someone is throwing file cabinets from the fifth floor.”

  Another crash blasted behind her and she scurried behind a car. She breathlessly gave the address.

  “Ma’am we’re getting reports of bombs going off at that location. You need to leave the area at once.”

  “It’s not bombs. It’s file cabinets.”

  “Ma’am, leave the area now! The bomb squad is on their way.”

  “But it’s not bombs. I just need a riot squad to quell our employees.” She screamed as another filing cabinet crashed close by.

  “Ma’am you need to leave ground zero now!”

  Why did she ever call out ‘bomb’? Now they’d send little robots and bomb-sniffing dogs when a riot squad in full gear and a ton of mace would do a better job. Maybe stun guns…yes, stun guns would be a fair payment for destroying months of her hard filing work. She peeked around the edge of the car at the mass of client data fluttering about.

  Trent would kill somebody—probably her—if his clients’ data fell into criminal hands.

  * * *

  Sam knew women claimed the ability to enjoy multiple orgasms, but Dawn was the first woman he’d met who could walk the walk. He’d just brought his barmaid to her third quivering delight when his phone rang. Again.

  Only this time it rang in three short bursts, then three long, and then three short, a ring tone only Mars or Joey could trigger.

  Dawn raised her head and pushed him back. “Your phone just declared an SOS.”

  Groaning, he pulled out of her. “Sorry, but I have to get this.”

  He rolled off the bed and snared his pants, searching for his phone. Extracting it, he flipped it open. “This better be real.”

  Mars’ tense voice replied, “You have to get to the office. The radio says it’s a bomb attack. Master Trent ran after Miss Carrie five minutes ago.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “To the office!”

  He’d never heard Mars yell before. That worried him. His friend had a sixth sense for trouble. That’s what had made him such a good captain in the army and such a fearsome butler in real life—if serving the rich had any connection to ‘real life.’