by Ana Sparks
“You’ve brought the suitcase.” Clark said, eying it on my lap. “Everything is in order, I trust?”
“Do you really think I’d show up here with an empty suitcase?” I laughed, throwing my head back. “I’ve done far too much business with your people, Sir Lambert, to ever waste your time. And if you must know, your reputation precedes you.”
“Does it?” His eyes sparkled. It was clear he liked hearing about himself, about what other people whispered about him on street corners. “Tell me. What would you think I’d do to you if you didn’t arrive with that suitcase like I asked?”
I shifted, trying to show a false discomfort. In reality, back in new York, I’d been in situations like this a million times. Men like Clark didn’t frighten me. However, thinking about my father, up against a criminal like this, made my blood run cold.
“They say you like the baseball bat,” I answered.
Clark tossed his head back in uproarious laughter. Cindy, or whatever her name really was, joined him, clearly accustomed to laughing at whatever he did. Perhaps she’d had experience with his use of the bat.
“It’s a cricket bat, you Yankee imbecile,” he said, chortling now.
“Tell me, Clark,” I said, leaning closer to him. “I’m genuinely curious. How did you make a name for yourself? How do you stay in business? What’s your secret?”
Clark paused, assessing me with eagle eyes. “I’ve long understood that I’m of a higher class, mentally, than most clowns. And if I told you anything about my business dealings, I’d have to kill you.”
Something passed between us. I’d been in the room for only four minutes. Everett and I had calculated the robbery down to seven minutes, which meant I needed to stretch it. My heart hammered and I opened my mouth.
But Clark spoke first.
“Where did you really pick up that girl, Mike?” he said. “That gorgeous Claire Harrington. I haven’t been able to get her off my mind since I saw her. All of her movements were so graceful. She’s the kind of woman you want to hide away from the world and keep all to yourself.”
I chuckled, feeling a pang of anger. “Claire is very much her own woman, Clark. She’s not the type to let anyone keep her from doing what she wants in life.”
When he grinned, he showed yellow teeth, crooked and rotting, in the back of his mouth. “I know the type. These London brats. They’ve been given everything on a silver platter their entire lives. She’s no better off, really, than Cindy here. Mentally, anyway. She’s probably as desperate as they come. Searching for happiness. Thinking she’s found it with some rough around-the-edges American bloke. I just can’t wait to read about your divorce in the news in a few years. British heiress leaves sad, lonely American destitute on the streets of Los Angeles. Can you imagine it?”
I shifted on the chair, images of Ruby flickering through my mind. Would I even see her again?
I gave him a smile, unsure of what else to do. “I keep expecting her to leave me, too. I am, as you say, definitely not good enough for her. And you should see the way her mother looks at me.”
I placed the suitcase on the floor, sliding it toward him with a soft kick. Clark let it sit between us on the carpet for a long moment before reaching down and lifting it on to his lap. After a brief pause, he popped it open, and gazed at the green below.
“Very nice. Very nice,” he said softly. “I appreciate you taking into account my particular position. I don’t like dealing with American taxes, you understand. It’s simpler if I keep it all going through the casino.”
“Of course. Just from seeing the paperwork for Claire’s taxes, I know it’s better this way, easier for all of us,” I said.
With a flourish, Clark clipped the suitcase closed. He made an abrupt motion, leaning toward Cindy, and kissing her on the cheek. Her eyes gazed at me, looking more like a dead fish than a human woman. I stood up, knowing Everett had done his end of the job. I’d relied on him for many stints out east. I couldn’t see a reason how this would go differently.
I shook Clark’s hand, then Cindy’s, and eased back through the casino, with the goon at my side. I gave him a firm look before heading into the hot darkness of the L.A. night, walking toward Leandra’s car. As I sped from the parking lot, I checked the new burner phone I’d picked up that morning.
Everett had sent a single, simple text message: Done and done.
We’d planned to meet up the following afternoon, before he flew back over to New York. In the meantime, I would make plans to head back there myself, but I also needed to decide whether I wanted to reconnect with my father in the interim. Being back in Los Angeles had changed my feelings slightly, forcing me to remember the good family times—and forget, even for a little while, the hurtful ones.
I wasn’t sure if it was worth it.
High on adrenaline, I sped too fast, back towards the ocean. Through the open window, I let out a mighty “FUCK YES!” I was out of my mind with victory, feeling wild, free. I’d set my plans into motion, and everything had fallen into place.
There was just one problem.
That girl. Ruby.
She wasn’t Claire Harrington. She was gorgeous, blonde and blue-eyed Ruby, from Coventry, who was working a dead-end job and leading a dead-end life. Since I’d literally run into her on the sidewalk, she had brought such electricity to my world.
Right now, I wanted nothing more than to see her again. To hold her tightly against my chest.
Yanking Leandra’s car into the lane that would take me to Silver Lake, I tried to mentally prepare my monologue for her front porch. “Why’d you leave me at the motel like that, baby? I need you. I need you more than you could ever know.”
Chapter Eleven
Ruby
I had returned from the motel and was huddled beneath my threadbare comforter, purchased from a second-hand shop in Echo Park the first week I’d arrived. It stank of bad memories. It stank of failing at acting. It stank of someone I could have loved, leaving me in the dust.
The knock on the door was harsh and loud, startling me out of my black cloud of despair. I listened, hearing no movement in the house. The boys were out. As I huddled deeper into my bed, the rap came again, more insistent this time.
I rose from bed, rubbed at my eyes, and took tentative steps toward the living room. Brian had left the lights in the living room on, and I could see the silhouette of someone standing at the door. Someone tall, over six foot, with broad shoulders and wild dark hair. With a start, I realized it was Billy.
He had come back for me.
Even as I rushed toward the door, something else hammered in my chest. A reminder that I’d purchased my one-way ticket to England already. My dealings with Billy had to be over, or else I was going to destroy myself, body and soul. I had to handle myself carefully.
As I opened the door, I had to avert my eyes from his, his stare was so intense. He beamed at me, looking at me as though I was the only woman he ever needed. I blinked rapidly, trying to quell the swell of emotion in my gut.
“Billy,” I began. “What are you doing here?”
He reached forward, gripping my shoulder. He drew me towards him. “Ruby, I couldn’t stay away. I had to see you again. You didn’t really think leaving me at that motel would be the last time you saw me, did you?”
I let myself look at him again. My heart thundered in my chest and I blushed, feeling girlish. He lifted my hand from my side, kissing my palm. “Lady Claire Harrington, I presume?” he murmured.
“Don’t,” I whispered, drawing my hand away. I felt reluctant. “Don’t make me regret what happened. Don’t make me...”
“Regret?” He stepped back, giving me that wry smile. “What would you have to regret?”
I gestured for him to enter. We stood, staring at one another, in the bright light of the corner lamp. The bright light was too much, and I reached out and flicked the switch, plunging the living room and the foyer into darkness.
“I booked a flight back to t
he U.K.,” I said finally, shrugging. “I used the cash you sent me and I gave up. I’m going home.”
“I see,” he answered, with that foolish grin plastered on his face. I wanted to smack it off of him, or else just kiss him. I felt caught between my lust for him, and anger at the fact I couldn’t have him.
“And anyway, I don’t think it’s a good idea if we…” I trailed off, gesturing toward his body. “You know.”
“No, I don’t know, Ruby,” he said, teasing me. He took a step forward, forcing me to inhale his scent.
Reaching forward, I gripped his T-shirt, twisting it in a small circle on his chest. “Don’t do this to me, Billy. It’s too much.”
Billy sighed, tossing his head back with a moment of abrupt laughter. Stung by his reaction, I gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, “I can offer you a beer or something?”
After a long moment, he followed me to the kitchen, accepting a beer and popping it open. He eyed the pizza boxes that were stacked against the window, saying, “You sure do like pizza.”
“It’s my roommate,” I sighed, looking down at my feet. “Billy, I want to thank you for paying me so quickly. Really. It’s going to change my life, I think. Going back to the U.K. is the right decision. It has to be.”
Billy shrugged, hopping up on the counter and swinging his legs slightly as he sipped the beer. “Ruby, if I could tell you how successfully the deal actually went, I would. But I don’t think you really want to know.”
He was gloating, now. I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him. “You can’t leave me hanging like that,” I sighed. “It’s unfair. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m leaving the continent. How did the deal go? Elaborate.”
Billy sipped the beer again. “You promise you won’t let the truth leave this room?”
Sensing we were walking down a dark path, I nodded slowly, just wanting to keep him there a bit longer. Everything about him was intoxicating. Wild. Like an animal.
“Well, that Clark guy? He’s a goddamn crook.”
My stomach shifted. “Well, obviously. I had a feeling that there wasn’t anything good about him.”
“Absolutely nothing,” Billy affirmed. “He’s a goddamn monster. He ripped off my father, and God knows how many other people just like him. All my dad wanted was to buy a condo and live out the rest of his days in some comfort.”
“Your dad?” Billy hadn’t mentioned anyone but his sister in the days since I’d met him.
“The old bastard hates me, but that doesn’t mean I want someone like Clark Lambert to screw him over. And I’m certainly not going to let him get away with it.”
I shook my head, feeling unsure. “Then how did I play into it? What does buying your own condo have to do with anything?”
“You were the secret to making my scam play out the way it did,” Billy said. “You gave him confidence in me. You showed him I was good for the money, and that compared to you, I was a little bit stupid. It showed that I would do anything to keep you. And that meant finding a top Malibu condo, for a deal.”
“So you gave him money to buy a condo?” I asked, a confused frown on my face. “I still don’t get it.”
“I delivered the funds to him tonight,” Billy said. “But as I met with him, one of my buddies—a real top-notch guy from back in Brooklyn—was robbing his vault from the other side. It really was a remarkable deal. I’m pretty sure my boy ran out of there with about five million.”
My jaw dropped open and I felt a distance gaping between us, more than a mile wide. I had known that we were different. That he was up to no good, when it came to this Clark Lambert deal. But I hadn’t imagined that five million dollars would be stolen, all because of me.
“Ruby, relax,” Billy said, making my blood run cold. “Clark Lambert has stolen far more money from sad suckers like my father than we ever could take from him. He’s been running this scheme for years. And you know what? I checked it out, and he’s here illegally. That should really kill you. I know how hard it was for you to get a visa.”
Reaching into the fridge, I produced more cheap beer, with one for myself this time. After popping the tops, I guzzled half of mine in one long gulp.
“Easy, killer,” Billy laughed.
“No. Not easy, killer,” I said, imitating him with anger. “I just can’t believe you had me play a part in such a huge scheme.”
“You should be honored,” Billy said.
My stomach clenched at the thought of Billy and I celebrating this victory, knocking back shots of tequila, and then diving into bed together—thoughts of the future brighter, with five million dollars lining our bank accounts.
But no. It was too much. It was criminal.
“You should have told me everything before asking me to get involved,” I said, stabbing a finger into Billy’s chest. “I’m an accessory to a crime now! What if I want to come back to the United States, but my name is flagged? What if they come and arrest me in the U.K.? Can you imagine? Dragged away in a cop car?” I huffed, my nostrils flaring.
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have agreed,” Billy said, his eyes twinkling. “With the promise of a few million dollars, awaiting you on the other end? You would have jumped at the chance.”
I shifted, not entirely sure that he was wrong, but I lifted my chin high. “No. I never would have agreed.”
“Well anyway,” Billy continued, leaping back down from the counter. “It seems like you definitely got something out of this. The cash, for one. And you seemed to enjoy yourself last night.”
“Don’t bring that into it,” I snapped, feeling my anger rise.
He snickered at me, taking a step closer. His scent filled my nose, and I felt a heat spreading between my legs, insistent with sudden desire. His smile was ravenous and animalistic, making me feel weak in the knees. Outrage filled me. I lifted my chin, staring at him.
“You had no right to put me in danger like that.”
“Oh yeah? Do I have the right to do this?” he asked. He bridged the divide between us, kissing me with passionate, tight lips. He brought his thick arms around me, pulling me tight to his chest. Without holding back, I wrapped my arms around him. My lips parted, allowing his tongue to run across mine. Something broke inside of me.
I knew I couldn’t refuse him, not now.
I was suddenly grateful that both roommates were out of the house for the night. Reaching up, I stripped him of his suit jacket, unbuttoning it down to his abdomen, and ripping it from his shoulders. He stood in just his suit pants, his muscles glistening in the soft light from the street lamps outside.
“How did we get here?” he said, moving his fingers through my hair. “Did you expect it?”
“Shut up,” I whispered.
I leaned toward him, kissing him and running my tongue along his jaw, his neck, to his chest. I kissed his thick muscles, pressing kisses down his torso, towards his beltline. I undid the button on his pants, ripping off his belt, and revealed his pulsing member below: thick and veiny, my fingers hardly able to wrap around it entirely. Falling to my knees, I closed my eyes and ran my tongue along the ridges of his cock. Then, I dove over it, taking it fully in my mouth. I heard him gasp from above as he grasped at my hair.
I eased my lips up and down his cock, rolling my tongue around and around its girth, taking stock of the texture. Memorizing his every line. He trembled at my touch, at the dripping wetness of my tongue.
After a while, I pulled back, gazing up at him. His face was red, his lips parted. With a gruff motion, he lifted me from the floor and into his chest. I wrapped my legs around his waist, wearing only my t-shirt and pajama shorts. He stripped off my shirt and placed me on the counter to get a better look at me. My breasts bounced and he wrapped his hands around my pale skin, squeezing at the nipples and sending shocks of awareness up and down my spine.
He removed my shorts and spread my legs wide, gazing at the soft pinkness between my thighs. With a jolt, he thrust forward, driving his cock d
eep into me. We were both naked, sweating, lost in each other’s gasps and each other’s cries. I collapsed into his body, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist. My fingernails found his skin and drew lines down his back, drawing blood. He groaned, clearly loving the mixture of pleasure and pain.
We no longer had to speak. We were communicating in the language of sex, of lust, of complete and immutable pleasure.
We made a mess of the place. After he fucked me on the counter, I pushed him back, tossing him against the couch. Pillows were flung to the floor on either side as I mounted him, riding him and allowing my breasts to bounce in his face. He gripped my ass, clinging to me tight. He whispered to me.
“I knew you wanted this all along.”
He was irresistible. I kissed him longingly, deeply. He flipped me over on the couch, bringing his tongue along the center of my pussy, sucking at the hardness of my clit before running his tongue over and over the lips. I alternated in crying out his name and telling him not to stop.
He didn’t. We didn’t. We found ourselves fucking up against my bedroom door nearly an hour later. Gasping, crying out for more, we flung ourselves onto my mattress. He pushed deep within me, and worked his thumb against my clit. Gazing into his eyes, I felt myself begin to cum. My lips parted.
“Let me cum with you,” he whispered, pressing his lips against mine.
He did, pushing deeper inside me, uniting us. We came in an explosion of fireworks, of lust, our muscles jerking, and my pussy tightening around his cock. After a long, roaring orgasm, we stared into each other’s eyes for a long time. He pulled me close to his chest, and we lay together, panting with release. I felt exhausted, wanting only to be wrapped in his arms.
His heat and his smell rushed around the room, colliding with everything. I realized, in a horrible moment, that when I unpacked my bag in my mother’s house, I’d be able to smell him. I would remember this moment. And I’d crave him again, instantly.
“This was a mistake,” I whispered, nudging my nose against his.