by T K Barber
His mouth dropped open, and his breath shot out, but then he offered her a sweet smile.
“I'd really like that. Come 'ere.”
He scooted up to the head of the bed and held his arms open. She moved up to lay beside him, and he pulled her to his chest as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. God, he smelled so good. She carefully rested her aching cheek against his chest and sucked in a ragged breath when she heard his thumping, rapid heartbeat. She slid her arm around his waist and winced as she held him tight.
Then she cried.
Scarlet
“Want one on the other side to match?”
Steven slurred as they walked, staggering more than once. The chilly air brushed against the mark on her jaw, and she frowned.
It was already much better, but still incredibly annoying. What kind of guy hauls off and bites a girl’s face on the first date? Scratch that: EVER?! That was what she got for going against her better judgment and going at all. He noticed, despite his alcohol haze, and laughed, shaking his head. She had fully expected him to apologize like he should have, but that wasn’t happening apparently.
“Um, how 'bout no? I didn't want this one!”
He shrugged and laughed again, slowing their crawling walk to a standstill once they reached an alley opening. She had convinced Steven that walking to her house would be better, and of course, he acted like it was his idea. Honestly, she just didn't want to be cooped up with him in the back seat of that car again. She just couldn't wait to put this whole night behind her.
He hummed a short note as he put both his hands on her hips and drew her to him, moving to stand behind her. He pulled her closer to the wall and before she realized what was going on, he wrapped his arms around her arms. The pressure from the grip caused her shoulder to twinge and alarms blared in her mind. She pushed against his chest with her other elbow, grunting from the effort.
“Steven, I don't like this. Let me go.”
He tightened his hold on her, pinning her arms down and chuckled when she tensed.
“I made up my mind,” he purred, pressing his mouth against the back of her neck. The strong smell of alcohol wafted up over her shoulder, and her skin crawled as her heart pounded.
“Steven, let me go, now!”
He tightened his grip, and she struggled as he began peppering her neck and exposed upper back with kisses. Nausea slithered through her.
“Stop!”
Eyes wild, she scanned for someone on the street. Completely empty. Of course. But they were stopped not too far from a little grocery store. And it was still open. She took in a breath to scream when his kisses abruptly halted. Even though that should have made her a little relieved, she panicked more. He dropped his arms and released her. What the hell was he thinking? Shock flooded her system, and she went white-hot all over, exhaling in relief. She whipped around to let him have it.
“You fu—”
The second she did, his hand was on her throat. Her eyes flew open, and she clawed at his hand for enough air to scream. He spun her around and shoved her back against the wall, then leaned hard against her so she couldn't get leverage to kick. His face hovered just in front of hers, and his eyes practically glowed with arousal. It was terrifying. He leaned in closer as the edges of her vision started to grow dark from lack of oxygen.
“I'm not going to take it easy on you after all.”
She squeezed her eyes tight. Maybe she could block out what was coming. Maybe she'd pass out first. Or maybe she could pretend she was safe, at home, under a blanket, thinking about—
Her eyes popped open, precious oxygen flooding her brain. Her vision cleared just in time to see Steven's eyes widen. He grabbed at another man's arm snaked tightly around his neck. The next second the man popped the back of Steven's legs to break his balance and slung him hard to the ground.
She dropped to the ground at the same time, coughing and gulping in air. The fall slammed her knee against a jagged piece of sidewalk, and she fought a gasp. No doubt in her mind whoever it was had saved her life.
The man landed a devastating kick to Steven's ribs, and he bellowed in pain before the man jammed his boot against his throat and pulled out a gun, aiming straight for Steven's head.
“If you ever . . . EVER touch her again, I’ll hunt you down like the dog you are. And I won't be as nice next time. You'll beg me to kill you, but I won't. I'll just hurt you over and over. I'll only stop when I get tired. Then I'll take a nap. And then I'll hurt your sorry ass some more.”
A massive electrical current rocketed through her body. She stopped gasping and froze stock still. His face was completely obscured by his hood, but there was no mistaking that deep growl. Her heart hammered harder than before. She'd never been so happy to hear a voice in all her life.
Nick leaned further over and jammed the barrel of the gun against Steven's forehead. Steven struggled like mad, pushing at the boot on his neck.
“ . . .Just messing . . .around . . .right . . .s —”
Nick pushed his boot further down, cutting off his air supply as he glanced at her. His menacing expression morphed into earth-shattering concern as his wide, fearful eyes met hers. She shook her head, still holding her throat, not quite sure she could talk above a whisper. Or at all. The rage that washed over his face was both terrifying and magnificent as he turned a sneer back to Steven's scrunching face.
“She says no. Looks like you need to learn what that means. Here, let's practice.”
He cocked the gun and jammed it harder against Steven's forehead. Steven's eyes threatened to bug out of his head from fear, and every bit of his remaining alcohol-induced flush drained from his face.
“Go on, use it in a sentence. Say 'No, don't shoot me.'"
Steven struggled harder against Nick's boot, alternating between grimacing from pain and glaring in anger. He snarled out strangled words whenever he could get a breath in.
“Sick . . .fuck . . .you . . .know . . .that?!”
Nick shrugged.
“Maybe. But I'm not 'rape a woman on the sidewalk' sick. It's all about perspective. Now. Use it in a sentence.”
Fear and rage radiated from Steven's face as he writhed uselessly under Nick's black combat boot, favoring his side that most likely had a few cracked ribs. The shrill of a police siren echoed in the distance, and Nick straightened up. He kept the gun aimed at Steven's head as he continued.
“Here's what's going to happen. You're going to stand up, turn around and walk away. That's it. Don't look at her. Don't talk to her. You don't even get to think about her, am I clear?”
He lifted his boot and took a half step backward. Steven groaned, coughed several times and rolled onto his side. He stayed here a moment clutching his ribs before he stumbled to his feet. He swayed, managing to look both green and pale, and stared at Nick's shrouded face.
“Fuck. You.”
Nick waved his gun dismissively, and Steven spat on the ground. He winced and staggered away, hunched over and groaning. He didn't look back at her. Or talk to her. Apparently, he'd told his driver to follow not far behind them, and once he had made it to his car, he fell in, and his driver sped away.
Nick watched the exhaust for a moment before he put his gun back in his pocket. He turned a heartbroken look back at her and laced his fingers behind his neck. She sat in a daze, half-aware, half detached, staring at the spot where the car had been.
That really just happened . . .he almost . . .almost . . .
She swallowed and winced. And God, knowing the car was just waiting. Would he have taken her somewhere?
Nick slowly crouched down in front of her. She didn't focus on him immediately, but her body trembled. What if he had killed her? She couldn’t even . . .Why didn’t she fight back? She should have done something. Anything.
“Scarlet . . .”
Her eyes zeroed in on Nick, and the shaking grew more intense as the shock settled in. When his wa
rm, rough palm found the side of her face, her heart exploded, and her soul ached.
He saved her, again. His touch and gruff voice saying her name with such gentleness were the straws that broke the dam on her emotions. She launched herself off the ground and slammed into him, knocking him off balance. He rocked backward and sat down hard as she wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing into the space where his neck met his shoulder.
“Thank you. Thank you, Nick . . . thank you . . .” she whispered, focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest. His strong, fast heartbeat, thrumming in his neck. His amazing scent. Even the faint whiff of peppermint, likely from gum. She squeezed him tighter, absorbing the safe feeling that came from being in his presence. Taking as much as she could, to keep it with her.
He froze in place, arms suspended in the air for several seconds before he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist in a slow, hesitant movement, molding her to his chest.
“It’s okay,” he matched her volume, resting his cheek against her head. “I’ve got you.”
They fit together like a puzzle, and he breathed in the scent of her shampoo and perfume like it was the last bit of air he'd ever have.
“I’ve got you.”
They sat silently in that embrace until the shaking subsided, and she had nothing left to cry. And then a moment longer.
Steven
“Son of a bitch!”
A few patrons turned his way, but he didn't give a damn. Anger pumped through his veins, making his temples throb. The rest of his aching body thrummed in pain waves that matched his heartbeat, each twinge pissing him off even more. The bar was no busier, but every noise bounced off his eardrums like a hammer. The hour ticked and sporadic bursts of light sputtered and flashed all through the bar as thunder boomed through the loudspeakers, met with whoops and cheers. Steven rubbed his forehead and growled.
“Kill the boxes, Anthony.”
Anthony stilled and raised his brows. “Seriously? They’re almost done.”
“Now.”
Another boom echoed through the building, dying midway when Anthony flipped the switch beside the bar. The light level equalized as the overhead fixtures reactivated, and Steven let out a slow breath.
“Whatever,” Anthony muttered, grabbing a short tumbler from beside the sink. He thunked it down in front of Steven and filled it with water.
“Who was the guy?” Anthony grabbed a clean towel, a heavy handful of ice, twisted it all together and slapped it down on the bar.
Steven winced as he swallowed and gently pushed the ice against his side. He was so angry he wasn't even sure he'd be able to sleep tonight.
“I don't know, but I swear to God if I ever find out I'll kill him myself.”
Both he and Anthony knew that wasn't going to happen. That wasn't a task he'd ever do himself. He checked his watch and grumbled, “Tell you what else. I’m sick of following behind our guy, checking for pulses.” A shudder ran down his spine. “I wouldn’t have had to bring her here tonight, and this would have gone a whole lot differently.” He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. Anthony shook his head and shifted his weight.
A stereotypical blond bar crawler walked up and placed her French tipped hands delicately on the counter. She swung her hair back over her shoulder and flashed a “give-me-a-free-drink” smile. Anthony stood up a bit straighter, more than happy to oblige. He stumbled over his words and nervously adjusted his glasses.
He’d always been a sucker for a pretty lady, and it was gonna get him in trouble one day. A lot of the ones that came in here were looking for their next mark, and Anthony was a huge target. Not that he seemed to give a damn. Steven sneered. Main problem with that was the hit to profits.
Anthony finished and slid her a drink. “On the house, babe.”
Steven grumbled and fished out his wallet, then tossed a twenty on the counter. “You keep doing that, V’s gonna let you have it.”
Anthony walked back over and swiped the bill. “Thanks,” he muttered and shoved the money in the till. He spun back and wiped a smear from the bar top in front of Steven.
“What happened anyway? Why'd he come after you?”
Steven smiled in his mind. She was so scared. He could taste the power he was taking from her. That control was intoxicating. Add in who she was and . . .well, he just had to convince her she didn't have a choice but to be with him. Whatever it took, however many times. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and shrugged.
“Who even knows? I walked her home, and he just came out of nowhere.”
Anthony stared at him for a long moment. Steven couldn't tell if he believed him or not, but he didn't give a damn about that either. Anthony didn't get paid to give his opinions.
A tall frame cast a shadow around Steven. He grimaced as he turned his aching body to lock eyes with its owner, and his stern expression. “What the hell are you glaring at?”
Vincent’s forehead creased, and he smirked. “Did you finally encounter a lady who refused your advances? Fitting justice if you ask me.”
“Well, no-fucking-body did. And hell no she didn’t do this. Some random wannabe hero.”
Vincent’s brows lowered. He clenched his jaw, and his fists, as his expression hardened. “Did she need this hero?”
Steven swallowed and shifted on the stool. What the hell did he care? “No. Dude was just sticking his damn nose where it didn’t belong. Don’t you have something else to do?”
“Mm. Si.” He stared at Steven a moment longer, then exhaled and refocused his attention on Anthony. “It’s balanced. The extra funds are allocated and dispersed. Wait a week before accepting another drop. And place an order for higher-end beverages tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” Anthony smiled. “Got it.”
Vincent matched his smile and nodded. “Grazie, Anthony. I placed more in your account as well.”
Anthony’s smile widened. “Thanks, man. That’ll be a big help.”
Vincent inclined his head. “You’ve earned it. It takes great . . . patience to deal with certain clientele.”
Anthony chuckled. “That it does.”
Vincent dropped his gaze to Steven. “The money for your boss is in the back. I suggest you handle it quickly.”
Steven sat up a little, flinched, then frowned.
“Good. Not too much longer, thank God. I'm sick of this shit.”
Vincent let out a throaty grumble and nodded. “I share your sentiment. Buona notte.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed to the rear of the building.
Anthony raised his brows in a smirk and regarded Steven as he wiped out another glass with a nearly threadbare rag.
“I don’t think he likes you. And that’s quite a feat. He likes everybody. Or, at least tolerates them.”
Steven curled his lip. “I couldn’t care less what that Italian, used goods salesman thinks about me.”
Anthony grinned. “You should. He could buy and sell you.”
“Again—don’t care.”
Steven narrowed an eye at Anthony. “After all this is done, maybe I can talk you into selling me your share.” Then he’d have fifty-one percent and could just kick Vincent to the curb.
Anthony raised his eyebrows as he flipped the tumbler in his hand to wipe the bottom, keeping his eyes down.
“Nah. All the same, I’d much rather keep it.” Then he added quieter, almost to himself. “Money isn’t everything. Useful, sure. But not everything.”
Steven laughed. “That’s where you’re wrong, Martel. Money is, in fact, everything.”
More money equaled fewer problems. Fewer problems for him, at least. It took money to run the world, and more money to run this world. Money and blood.
Anthony lowered his brow at another glass and exhaled through his nose.
“Whatever, man. All I know is the sooner you guys are gone, the better.” He jerked his head up
and widened his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, just that . . . I know you guys will be happier to be in your new headquarters. Or whatever you’re going to call it.”
Steven grunted, then grabbed his throat and winced again. The hotel was going to be the perfect spot. Even better when it was h—
“What about Price? Do you think she’ll cooperate?”
Steven sneered; the expression lost to the massive dark room.
“She doesn’t have a choice, Anthony.”
“You think the guy’s done it yet?” He spoke sideways as another customer strolled up to the bar. He refilled Steven's water and wiped at yet another spot on the bar. It was a good thing the place was so busy, but it made talking annoying as hell. Steven grunted and nodded.
“No doubt. He’s not stupid, I’ll give him that much. I’ll lay eyes on the target in a bit.” He groaned and covered his ribs with his hand. “I don’t think they’re broken, but they sure damn hurt.”
Anthony shrugged and excused himself to get more glasses.
Steven spun carefully around on the stool and rested his elbows on the bar.
So many people milling around, completely unaware of what went on in the world. They ordered drinks, got drunk, screwed, slept, ate . . . all while an entire subsystem of crime rolled along around them. That's how it needed to be, though; how he liked it. And soon, he’d be the one running the entire thing. Just a few more pieces to knock off the board, then . . . checkmate.
Steven’s chin lifted as a smirk flashed. The king would fall, and he’d finally have everything he was owed. And more.
A red light flashed under the bar top. Anthony pushed a round, white button allowing a weasel of a man to come in through the side door. Anthony tapped Steven's shoulder, and he glanced over and nodded.
“Be back in a sec. Get some more ice.”
Anthony pressed his lips into a fierce line, and Steven slid off the barstool. He made his way over with careful steps. God, if he ever laid eyes on that man again, he'd make him pay six ways to Sunday. He slapped the weasel guy on the shoulder and turned him around, so they faced away from the bar.