Panting, exhausted, but oh so satisfied, I slowly uncurl my legs from around his ass and my arms from his shoulders. He collapses next to me, bundling me close. We hold each other, trying to catch our breaths, trying to organize our thoughts.
I wonder if he’s as blissed out as me, and because I’m weak from the sex, I just blurt out my thoughts. “Was it okay for you? No, don’t answer that. I don’t know why I asked.”
He chuckles softly and gathers me up in his arms. “Best I’ve ever had.”
The smirk sets me off. I summon all the paltry energy I have left and bash him with a pillow. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you bragging about all the other women you’ve had?”
He laughingly fends me off, which infuriates me even more. I find renewed strength and grab his pillow and fling it at his head. He wrestles it out of my hand and covers me with his heavy body. His dick is hard again, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he’s dragging my fingers to the edge of the sheet.
“You want me to hang onto this?” I wriggle the fabric.
“No.” He pulls on it and I see now that the mattress piping has come loose.
My lips form a circle. “I did that?” I didn’t even remember grabbing the edge of the mattress, but, then, there were full minutes when I was having an out-of-body experience. I could have kicked a hole in the wall and not realized it.
“No. It was me. I’ve never…” He pauses and rubs the heel of his hand against his temple. There’s a slight flush on his cheeks. Is he…embarrassed? Is this about his virgin status? My insides liquefy at the adorableness.
“You’ve never had sex,” I supply softly.
“You know.” It’s not really a question. “When I told you I hadn’t fucked anyone else, you understood that to mean ever.”
“I did.”
“You were right.”
I nod because I don’t trust myself to talk. I’m far too happy about this. Unreasonably overjoyed. I almost clap, but I don’t want to look like a fool. I clear my throat.
“Me either,” I share, forgetting momentarily about the mess we cleaned up earlier.
The side of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah. I figured.”
I finger the torn fabric and contemplate what kind of strength it takes to rip a mattress apart with your bare hands. Then, I start giggling.
“What?”
I keep laughing, my giggles turning into full-on crying guffaws.
“What?” he repeats in an annoyed tone.
“This is like when Edward bit the pillow,” I manage to gasp out.
His face is blank.
I catch my breath. “Remember the sparkly vampire?” I made him watch the entire Twilight series when I was twelve. He covered my eyes during the tamest sex scene ever filmed. I watched it on YouTube later to see what I was missing which was nothing. Vaguely, I wonder if Leka is aware of all the sex scenes that could be watched on Youtube. I decide to protect his innocence and keep that information to myself.
“I’ve tried to block it out,” he admits.
I burrow into his embrace. “You sat through all four movies with me. That’s how I knew you loved me.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” he demurs, but he’d say anything in this post-sex haze.
“It was terrible. Name one good scene.”
He falls silent, absently rubbing a thumb down the side of my arm. It’s so comforting and I’m so tired from all the sex that my eyes flutter shut. Drowsiness envelops me. When I’ve almost fallen asleep, I hear him say, “The baseball scene?”
I laugh tiredly and hug him close. I could never love a man as I do Leka. Who else would rack their brains to find one good scene just so I wouldn’t fall asleep disappointed? No one. “Don’t leave me again. I won’t make it.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“We’ll be together forever.”
Those words are almost better than sex. Almost. I drift into unconsciousness with a smile on my face.
* * *
A month passes. A blissful, glorious month where the only thing we fight about is who gets to make breakfast. I win most of the time because Leka surprisingly has zero self-control around me. It’s as if the first time we kissed poked a hole in his emotional dam and the hours of sex has fully battered it into dust.
I try not to take advantage of his vulnerability. Audie would’ve demanded that I squeeze him for jewels and cars and property just in case he changes his mind later on, but the only thing I want from Leka is his love, which he is showering all over me.
"What are you doing up so early?" Leka comes up behind me and pulls the silk of my robe aside to place a warm kiss on my shoulder.
"I'm working a double shift today. Cindy, the girl who does the day shift, is taking her grandmother to the hospital to get her hip replaced."
Leka frowns. "Did you tell me this yesterday? Because I don't remember."
"No. I knew you wouldn't like it and I didn't want to spend a lot of time arguing about it, so I saved it for this morning." I lean back and give his tight jaw a kiss. The one thing that makes Leka unhappy is my job. He believes I should sit home on my butt and do nothing.
"Two shifts?" he replies stiffly.
I flip the eggs over carefully and check the butter and cream sauce. "Two shifts. It's not the end of the world."
"You're already tired after one."
"I know, but I don't mind. It's honest work and I like getting my paycheck. It's nice to be able to pay for things with the money I earned myself."
"All right," he says.
Surprised, I nearly drop the egg off the spatula. "No argument?"
He scrubs a hand through his hair, the ends sticking up in an adorably messy way. "If you like it, then I wanna be happy for you. I guess it'd get boring sitting on your ass all day."
"It would be very boring."
"You could join one of those clubs," he suggests.
I finish plating our breakfast. Leka carries the plates to the table and holds my seat for me.
"What clubs are those?"
"I dunno. Sometimes the bankers I, ah, work with talk about clubs."
I hide a smile. "I don't think these clubs are the kinds you want me hanging around. They're mostly populated by over-inflated egos who like to rack up points by seeing who can sleep with the most models or actresses or some kind of combination of the two."
Leka immediately scowls. "No clubs. Definitely no clubs."
"I am going to join a spin class. There's a gym close by work so I can go there before class and then go to work. I'm hoping I can get on the night shift so our hours mesh better."
"I don't really have hours."
"I know that, but you're generally gone at night and that way we can spend our days together instead of me skipping out on you in the middle of the afternoon."
He toys with his food a bit. "You never ask me about my work."
"I didn't think you wanted to share."
"I don't," he admits, "but couples share shit, right?"
"I suppose, but we share everything else from the bathroom to the bed." I reach over and squeeze his hand, which has formed a fist. “I don’t have to know this stuff. You love me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then there’s nothing more that needs to be said.” There’s a niggle in the back of my head, a little alarm that goes off that suggests that I’m not entirely right about this, but I ignore it because Leka loves me. That’s all that matters.
36
Leka
Cesaro is back, supposedly to oversee the shipment of some weapons through the territory, but I fear his true motive. It’s been a concern of mine since I abandoned him at the club to take Bitsy home. To help me sleep at night, I’d convinced myself that he’d forgotten about her.
But he has returned for an unprecedented second visit in as many months. As Justin bends over the stove cooking Cesaro’s dinner, I run my finger across the fillet knife. It’s sharp enough to slice a man’s
throat. Mary used a knife just like this four years ago to kill Gerry. I could use it to kill another man at the very same table.
The hilt rests lightly in my palm. I’m better with a gun. Perhaps I should shoot—the kitchen door swings open. Sterno appears. “A female is here to see you, Priest.”
“A female?” Beefer and Justin chorus as one.
All three men turn to me as my knees turn to water. Oh, fuck, no. It’s Bitsy. I know it. The knife falls to the floor as I rush for the door, slamming it wide and nearly crushing Sterno in the process. Standing within arm’s length of Cesaro’s table is my gorgeous girl, her hair pulled back in a rose-colored bandana, wearing nothing more special than a pair of tight light-colored jeans and a heavy black sweater that’s sliding off one shoulder to reveal the thin silk strap of her undershirt.
In the low restaurant light, that bare patch of skin looks like molten gold. Everyone wants to touch it.
“I didn’t realize you knew this girl, Sterno.” Cesaro’s voice carries across the room.
“She helped ID your uncle’s murderer,” Sterno answers from behind me.
“A hero then. Come closer, girl. I can barely make you out.” Cesaro waggles his fingers.
This is my worst nightmare come to life. I reach Bitsy’s side in three strides and tuck her half behind my body.
“Cesaro, nice to see you. Your dinner’ll be out in a sec,” I say.
The corners of Cesaro’s cruel mouth tip up. “Nice that you could join us, Leka. I didn’t know you were working as the wait staff. Is your gun arm broken?”
“Gun arm is fine.” I could smash your face in so you could get an up-close demonstration of how well it’s working.
Cesaro laughs. “Good. Good. We wouldn’t want you out there with us if you can’t shoot. You’ve never been much good for anything besides that. Now that we’ve got that out of the way.” He points a finger to my left side where Bitsy is holding on to one arm. “Who’s this? I recognize her from the night outside the club. We were supposed to be celebrating together but she showed up in a delicious costume and you swept her away before we could get to know each other.”
“She’s his sister,” calls Beefer, who ambles up to my side, hitching up his pants.
“They don’t look nothing alike,” chirps one of Cesaro’s guards.
“Don’t really matter to me.” Beefer shrugs. He holds his hand up to his knee. “They’ve been together since she was a little tyke.”
“Interesting.” Cesaro drums his fingers against his chin. “You know what the girl said when I asked who she was?”
“No.”
“‘I’m Leka’s.’ That’s what she said. I asked who she was and that was her response. That loyalty is breathtaking, my man. Breathtaking. You don’t see that these days. Everyone’s got their own agenda. Everyone’s looking out for themselves, ain’t that right, Sterno?”
“I serve the family,” Sterno replies blandly.
Fuck. Is this some test for Cesaro’s men? If so, we’re in for an ugly time. I force myself to breathe normally, to not react, to not show how fucking terrified I am in this moment. Cesaro is a cruel man with an uncanny ability to figure out what’s important to a person and take it from them. He destroyed Camella and would do the same to Bitsy. I must be careful. I can’t make a mistake.
“Go and see how Cesaro’s meal is coming,” I order.
Bitsy bristles at the command but leaves without arguing. Everyone watches her except for me. I keep my eyes on the snake in the room.
When the door shuts behind her, Cesaro raises his lust-filled gaze to meet mine. A smirk spreads across his face.
“Your girl can’t be more than eighteen or nineteen. That outfit she wore last month looked genuine. I’ve always had a thing for girl’s in uniform.”
I remain silent because I know what’s coming. Mentally, I’m plotting out Bitsy’s escape. A ticket abroad tonight, to the Far East and then to the Maldives where I bought a small property a couple of years ago when I learned Cesaro’s contacts are concentrated in Western Europe. After she’s gone, I’ll put a bullet through his head and anyone else who might breath in Bitsy’s direction. I’ll spray a blood barrier down the eastern seaboard if that’s what it takes.
“I didn’t realize we had so much in common,” he continues. “I like them young, too. How much?”
“She’s not for sale.”
“Everyone is. Besides, you belong to me and so she belongs to me. I could take her without compensating you, but that wouldn’t be fair. I like to treat my people right.”
“She’s his sister,” Beefer repeats. He knows that he’ll lose me over this. I’m the best soldier here. There’s never been a shipment lost or a job failed while I’ve been in charge. Cesaro might not be able to read the room, but Beefer knows that his hold on this region is nothing without me.
“Is this true, Leka? Is that girl your sister or some piece you’ve been grooming like a sick pedo since she was a kid?” Cesaro leans back, stretching an arm across the top of the leather banquette.
“She’s my sister,” I answer. Because if she’s not, she’s toast. She’ll be passed around this gang like a cigarette, smoked until she’s a stub and then crushed under someone’s boot heel.
“You telling me I can’t have something I want?” Cesaro asks.
It’s a question I can’t answer, so I don’t. If I say yes, I’m challenging his authority. If I say no, it’s acquiescing to his demands.
I assess the situation. I’ve a Glock strapped to my back with eleven bullets. I could take Cesaro. I could take his four goons here. From there, it would be up to whether Beefer would stand down or order everyone in here after me. Beefer sold out his own daughter for more power. He’d gun me down in a heartbeat.
The kitchen door creaks open. Holding my breath, I swing around, my hand on the butt of my gun, only to exhale in relief at the sight of Mason bringing out Cesaro’s dinner.
“Where’s the girl?” Cesaro demands.
“Ah, which one?” Mason plays dumb.
I could kiss that boy.
Cesaro screws up his face in annoyance. “Leka’s girl. Where is she?”
“Oh, her? She went out back and I haven’t seen her since. Did I do wrong?” The kid looks completely lost and I don’t know if it’s an act or sincere. It doesn’t matter. Bitsy’s gone. She’s got good instincts and knew that she should leave.
I drop my hand to my side and give a short bow to Cesaro. “If you don’t need anything more, I have to review the plan with the guys. We’ll want to map out the best route and do a dry run tomorrow.”
He grunts his acknowledgment and digs into his food.
I gather up Mason and push him in front of me so he’s not in the line of fire. I owe this kid. I owe him big. He’s too good of a person to fall in with us, but since he’s here, I might as well help him along.
“You’re on the crew tomorrow,” I tell him when we reach the kitchen.
“Really?” His eyes grow big.
“Really.”
He’s bursting with excitement but manages to contain it. Another mark in his favor. The door slams open again and Beefer strolls through.
“Leka, let’s talk.”
I follow Beefer outside. Two of our own guys are guarding the back. With a jerk of my head, I send them inside to warm up.
I wait for Beefer to light up his cigar before asking, “What’s up?”
“Why are you being a hard-ass about this? It’s one night. Cesaro’s real generous. He gave Camella her wheels, you know. She doesn’t regret it for a second. You saw her tonight. She was back here begging for more.”
I gape at Beefer. He’s lied to himself so long and so often that he has a completely fucked up view of what happened to Camella. That night ruined her. She’s never been the same since.
“It’s not happening.”
“What is it going to hurt? If it’s her first time, it might hurt a little, but Cesaro’s a good-looking man with
a lot of experience. Women are falling all over themselves to be in his bed.”
“I’ll be dead before he lays a hand on Bit.”
Beefer rolls his eyes. “You’re building this up to be some dramatic thing when it doesn't have to be. You provide everything for her. You schooled her, put a roof over her head, clothes on her back, and what do you get in return? She does this one little thing to make sure you stay in the favored position that you are and that she continues to receive protection for as long as the business is around. If you die, she’ll be taken care of. That’s the benefit. That’s why I encouraged Camella to do it.”
I stare at him for a long moment while he smokes and avoids looking me in the eye. I guess I knew Beefer had lost it all four years ago. He made a bargain with the devil for his money and his power and his so-called favored position. There's nothing more for me to say, so I turn and leave.
37
Bitsy
There’s a suitcase in the hallway when I get home from work. I kick off my shoes, bypass the case, and stride into the kitchen.
“God, I’m tired. I need a drink.”
“You’re nineteen,” Leka says from the living room.
“Thank you for letting me know. I hadn’t the first clue how old I was despite having a birthday two months ago.” A birthday he did not celebrate with me. I grab the beer out of the fridge and pop it open defiantly. Guilt sits like a rock in my stomach. I shouldn’t have gone to Marjory’s. I know this, but I was hungry—both to eat and see Leka. I’d worked two double shifts and hadn’t spent a single moment with him in two days. I thought, stupidly, what was the harm.
Now I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I pretend to be calm as I drink the beer I don’t really want. “What’s with the suitcase? Business trip? How long will you be gone?”
His gaze slides away, breaking the contact. That bastard. He won’t even look me in the eye as he exiles me.
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