by Marie Harte
Brenda had known the score. Flattery for information. But she’d been happy to let Deacon think he held the upper hand. Since she’d planned to have him at some point, she’d let him flirt and build a more solid relationship.
Truth be told, she liked him. And she didn’t like many of the men who worked in the Business.
She picked up her cell phone and made a call. “He knows.” She paused, listening. “No. I made the offer. He didn’t accept.” Which stung, but she’d anticipated that might happen. “Should I meet you for dessert?” she purred, then laughed when she heard a suggestion she wholeheartedly agreed with.
After finishing her wine, she tried to pay her bill, only to find Deacon had already done so for her. What a sweetheart. Too bad she’d never get a taste of that fine body. Not now that he had an expiration date. Ah well. He should have tried harder to win her favor. Then maybe she’d have put a good word in for him with her new boss.
Brenda left the restaurant and took a cab to her destination. She entered the townhome, ignored the rough looking men loitering in the main room, where a European soccer game played loudly on the television.
“Where is he?” she asked.
One of the men eyeballed her with interest, then nodded to the stairs.
She hurried, needing to report in. In person.
With a sly grin, she raced up the stairs and toward his room. But the sounds that greeted her as she drew closer made her frown. The door wasn’t closed all the way, and anyone passing by could see inside.
A woman lay on the bed next to a couple fucking like animals. Brenda could see welts on the passive woman, but the one clinging to the large, sexy man thrusting into her did nothing but howl like a bitch in heat.
He continued to move, his lovely ass pumping, the sight of it a reminder that her time with him had been all too brief. A few quickies at work when she should have been filing.
She’d never had all of him to herself. Now, she didn’t think she wanted to.
His loss. She watched him race to the finish, the woman under him squirming, the one next to them not moving, likely passed out. As he neared his end, he withdrew, rose to his knees, and jerked himself to climax, jetting all over his whore’s belly.
Brenda pushed open the door and waited until he stood to face her, clearly dismissing his partners.
“Well?” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel, then proceeded to move to the bathroom. She followed him and watched him shower, imagining him washing away the passion he’d just shared with women not worthy of his time.
Angry but too smart to show it, she gave him a quick rundown of her meeting, doing her best not to stare at his wet, naked body behind the glass wall.
“Good. He’s hooked. Not that I blame him.” His angelic smile masked a deadly weapon. He’d often used his beauty to get by, and she could see it working still. Despite knowing he’d been with those women in his bed, she wanted to please him. To make him smile at her. And she hated herself for it.
She cleared her throat. “If that’s all? I have a plane to catch.”
“You’re sure? There’s room in here for one more.” He smiled. She didn’t. He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Stop by the green room downstairs to pick up your payment.”
“Thanks.” She turned and left, wishing he might have been what she’d hoped and not the sad reality he’d turned out to be. She knew it was better this way. Brenda didn’t like what she’d suspected of him before, but now knowing about the drugs, the guns, and worst of all, the women… Best she left before he forgot they were on the same team.
Downstairs, she gave the main room a wide berth, not wanting to be anywhere near the goons he employed. She sought the green room at the end of the hall, a guest bedroom and the home of his new accountant, a man who had no place working around large sums of money.
She entered without knocking and found said accountant wearing dress trousers and an unbuttoned silk shirt, smoking a cigarette. He looked handsome yet sleazy, and knowing his reputation, she wanted to be anywhere but the green room.
“I’m here for my pay.”
“Right.” He tossed a small bag on the table. “It’s all there. But feel free to count it.”
She focused on the bag—her future—then realized her mistake. He’d moved too close too fast. She had a moment to see the hunger in his gaze and swallowed. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“No, bitch. Count it. Go on.” He blew smoke in her face, and she coughed and waved it away.
“Fuck you.” Brenda could do mean. She refused to be intimidated by the cocky bastard. He had no idea who he was dealing with. The boss would not be pleased. She told him so.
He laughed. “Honey, you’re getting paid.” His eyes gleamed as he shrugged out of his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers while stalking her, a knife suddenly in hand. “And so am I.”
Eight
Deacon found Solene groggy but awake as he entered the hotel room. “One good thing at least.”
“Oh…my head.” She stumbled from the bed and slammed the bathroom door behind her.
“Brenda?” Noel asked. He sat at the desk looking at his laptop.
“She confirmed most of what we knew. But I’m still getting the sense the tie-in with Burleigh and Mexico isn’t what we think.” He repeated word for word their conversation. “We know it’s Burleigh behind all this. And maybe someone else.” He sighed. “Maybe Brenda.”
Noel frowned.
“She was off. I can’t tell you why I think that, I just do.”
Noel shrugged. “We’ll look into it when we have time. Right now, we need to focus on Burleigh. Hammer did some more digging. He confirmed what she told us about Burleigh. He’s no longer in India.”
“With our luck, he’s renting the room right next door.” Deacon stared at the closed bathroom door. “I bet he’d love to get his hands on Solene.”
“The thought of that monster getting his hands on any woman makes me ill.”
“You ratted him out. I did too. According to Brenda, Hammer reported him as well. That’s the connection.”
Noel nodded. “But the baby? Where does he fit in? All this talk of Burleigh’s ‘angels,’ then we have the word Angel on Little Dee’s locket. Maybe we were wrong thinking the baby had a connection to the missing contractor.”
“Could the dead woman who dropped him off have been one of Burleigh’s angels? Maybe he assaulted her, resulting in the baby. Maybe she knew you’d help because you were so vocal about hating him.” Which still meant the woman who’d given birth to Little Dee was connected to the Business somehow. How else to know Noel didn’t like Burleigh?
“But why mention Mexico? He had no overt ties to Sinaloa. No. I don’t think the baby has anything to do with Burleigh.”
“Yes. Maybe.” Deacon sighed. “I don’t know. We’re a little bit closer, but not by much.”
Noel shrugged. “We know to look out for Romero Burleigh, so there’s that.”
“We need to find him and eliminate the threat.”
“It looks like he’ll come to us. There have already been two attempts to take Solene. He wants her. To get at you or just because Solene is too tempting an addition to his fan club,” Noel said wryly. “The good news is Big Joe will be able to get me DNA on Burleigh. We’ll be able to rule him out of any connection to Little Dee in days. I’m going to head back and start processing what we know with Hammer and Addy.”
“Aw, Noel. You’re calling him Little Dee.” Deacon smiled.
“Better that than Noel Jr. I know I didn’t get a stranger pregnant.”
“Hey man, I told you I never got anyone pregnant either.”
“Shocker.”
“Asshole.” Deacon saw Noel’s small smile. He liked this Noel better than Ice.
Would Solene change him the way Addy was changing Noel? Should he care? Or was he seeing things with her that he wanted to see, things that weren’t really there?
“I’m going to stay here ton
ight with Solene. We’ll be back tomorrow.” Deacon sighed. “She’s going to have to go back to her usual routine, isn’t she?”
Noel nodded. “It makes no sense to keep her away now. Hammer looked into the issue with her security and came up with nothing. No fault in the system, no tap we could find.”
“Great.”
“So you’ll be even more vigilant. At least now we know to look out for Burleigh. And having Solene in the open will get him to move sooner than later. She’ll go for it. She wants this to be over so things can get back to normal. Something we all want.”
Well, not all. Deacon felt a pang at the notion of leaving Solene and found all kinds of reasons to stick around. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he could. If he wanted to. No, if she wanted him to.
“You’re probably itching to get back into action,” said Noel
He wasn’t. At all. Deacon got bored. He needed the adventure, the challenge. So why wasn’t he jonesing to get back on the missions? Somehow, Solene had become his challenge. Was this a temporary fix? A change of pace from the norm until it grew stale? He’d felt something for her from the beginning. A fascination, then an affection. And now…
He thought it might be love, but what the fuck did he know about that? He’d sure as hell never experienced it firsthand. Deacon knew enjoyment, hatred, satisfaction. But any love he’d once had for his mother had wasted away a long time ago. And since then, he hadn’t wanted to trust that much in anyone.
But he wanted to trust in Solene.
He said goodbye to Noel, promising to check in later and once again in the morning before returning. He could see the man itching to get back to Addy, buoyed with happiness at just being with her.
The bathroom shower turned on, and Deacon wondered if he’d be welcome to watch Solene bathe. To step in and scrub her back.
After all she’d been through, though, she needed the alone time. And he needed to figure out what the hell he thought he was doing with her, and just where he thought it might take him in the long run.
* * *
Solene let the hot water sluice over her body, cleansing away her anxiety if not her concern. She tried to make sense of her fuzzy memories now returning. Of going into that restroom on the ferry and talking to that weird woman with the wings tattoo. The woman’s warning rang clear as a bell, and Solene stared at the condensation fogging the glass of the shower.
“He’s just using you. That’s what he does. The Shadow floats into your life, promises great times, tells you he loves you, then floats away. He did it to me. He’ll do it to you. Once he has what he wants, he’ll leave you like the nothing whore that you are.”
Was that woman right? Did Deacon plan on using and losing her? Except he’d never made her any promises or admitted his undying love. He hadn’t committed to staying one day past the end of his mission to protect Little Dee and learn who had targeted them.
As Solene well knew, men weren’t trustworthy. They lied and cheated without a care for the consequences. Hell, she and Deacon had shared horror stories about dating. He knew her stance on relationships—she didn’t have them anymore. And he didn’t either. Both were on the same page.
So how in good conscience could she think he was just using her? Yet after all she’d been through, how could she not afford to doubt him?
A knock at the door startled her, and she dropped the soap. Oh yeah, that’s what I need to be doing. Bending over to pick up the soap at the precise moment Deacon saunters in. She snickered at the thought, glad at least she hadn’t lost her sense of humor.
“Solene, are you okay?” A pause. “Can I come in?”
Should he? He’d already seen her naked. What if he wanted to get his sexy on again? Should she let him? Would he be using her if she used him right back?
“Come in,” she called out before she could second-guess herself. She had limited time with a man who made her body sing. Why shouldn’t she be using him?
He entered and paused, staring at her through the glass. His gaze roamed with concern, not lust, which made her feel…cared for. “You okay?”
“Just rinsing off the stuffiness. My head’s ringing a little, but I’m mostly back to normal. I should be fine soon.”
“Blondie, you’re fine now.” He didn’t smile, didn’t tease or try to make her laugh. His gaze had turned from caring to lustful, and she shared that same hunger. Too much.
“Are you using me?” she blurted, wanting to see his expression.
He continued to stare at her naked body, focused on her breasts.
“I asked if you’re using me.”
His gaze met hers, and he scowled. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
“From the tattooed bitch who drugged me.” She fumed. What she wouldn’t give to go back and kick that chick right in the head.
“I think it’s time you told me what happened on the ferry.”
“While I’m naked?”
He shrugged, acting cool. Very unlike the way he’d been with her lately. She didn’t like it. Solene liked lusty, out of control, wild Deacon more.
She cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples, and saw his eyes narrow. “But I’m naked. And wet.” A glance down his front showed an impressive erection. “I’m hot too, Deacon. Don’t you want to help cool me down?” She turned and braced herself against the tile, flaunting her ass at him. She felt naughty, powerful, and finally in control—of this situation at least.
“You want to get fucked, Solene? Is that it?” He tried to sound blasé, but she read his interest loud and clear.
“I don’t want it baby, I need it.” She used her breathy voice, the obvious come-on. He wouldn’t fall for it, but it was fun teasing him.
Except Deacon was stripping down in a race to beat the clock. My-oh-my. He was beautiful. Strong thighs, muscular arms and a broad chest. He looked like someone had crossed an Olympic swimmer and soccer star and made perfection.
“I need it, Deacon. A big, fat cock inside me. You going to give it to me, baby? Going to fuck me really hard?” She sounded like a cheap 1-900 operator, and she would have laughed at herself if she hadn’t seen how she aroused him.
How pathetic that even after being warned to beware the player, Solene taunted him into having sex with her. Again, she tried to rationalize that she could use him instead of being the one on the receiving end. Yet as he stalked her, dragging her hips back and bending her forward with a hand at the center of her back, she could think of nothing but taking him inside her. And, typical Solene, as much as she wanted to keep this on the physical level, she felt so much more for Deacon Shaw.
“Yeah, baby. You need to get fucked.” He prodded her ass cheeks wider and settled his cock at her anus. “A deep, hard ass-reaming.”
She started. “Uh, I don’t think so.”
“You’re right. First I need to take the edge off.” He positioned himself at her pussy and shoved.
The tight fit stole her breath and made him groan. Bent over, she could do no more than accept him as he took her in deep, strong thrusts that grew faster and rougher.
“Fucking you, baby. You good? You need my big dick?” He reached around and fingered her clit while he rode her. “You’re hard too, aren’t you? God, your pussy is hot. Suck me deeper. Come on. Hold me,” he rasped, grinding into her.
The pressure set her off, the feel of him buried in her, controlling her while he hammered harder, lighting her fuse. She came without meaning to, her entire body throbbing as she clamped down on him and keened.
Deacon let go of her clit and gripped her hips, pulling her back into him before he withdrew and pushed against her anus. He slid the head of his dick inside her and groaned, the sensation full and not comfortable, but not painful either.
He shuddered and stopped moving, his hands on her hips bruising. But the little groans and grunts as he emptied into her ass pleased her to no end. She might have lost control, but so had he.
When he finally withdrew, she fel
t strange. As if they’d had angry sex that wasn’t exactly angry. But she didn’t know what it was.
“So, is this a sign you love me?”
She slowly straightened, feeling him pressed against her back. His hand went around her belly, holding her close. “Love you?” she whispered.
“You know, because you let me ass-fuck you.”
She was reminded of their teasing conversation the last time they’d been in bed together. “That’s an ass-fucking?”
He nipped at the crook of her neck. “Man, I love when you swear. You’re so pretty, but that mouth is so foul.”
She chuckled despite herself.
“Nah, that was just a prelude. I gotta get all lubed up for when you let me own that ass.” He slid his hands between them and gripped her buttocks, then gently rounded to her front. He toyed with the strip of hair over her mound and fingered her folds, spreading her legs wider.
“Deacon? Quit playing with me.”
“Why? You’re like my own personal doll.”
“Not even a little bit,” she said through gritted teeth, aroused yet annoyed.
“Sure you are. You know, since I’m using you and all.” He no longer sounded pleased. “Where the fuck did you come up with that?”
“Tattoo chick mentioned it, remember?”
“Tattoo…? Oh, Sue. She’s an ex-contractor type. A real piece of work.”
“An old flame of yours?”
He shoved a finger inside her, and the angry invasion should have turned her off. Instead, she wanted to beg for more. After a few pumps, he removed it and spun her around, then pushed her back against the cold, hard tile and put his finger inside her again.
“Don’t be jealous of Sue.” He watched her while he stroked in and out.
“I’m not,” she gasped, trying not to groan as he hit that special place inside her.
“Yeah, you are,” he murmured against her ear. “But it’s hot. You want me? Well, I sure the hell want you. In you. Here.” He added a second finger before taking both away. He slid his finger toward her ass. “Here.” Then he kissed her, sliding his tongue in her mouth before pulling back. “And here.”