by D. B. James
“Because you changed our friendship tonight, friend,” I volley back.
“Oh, suuure, blame the chick. It must be the vagina’s fault for wanting a taste, right?”
“Oh, ho, ho.” Putting my hands up in the air, admitting defeat and all but dropping my jaw in shock, I take a moment to collect myself. “Nope, I’m not touching that comment—although I could argue with you all night long, baby. I’m a lawyer, remember?”
She’s saved from replying by our waitress.
“Hello, I’m Ashlyn. May I start y’all off with something to drink? Wine perhaps?”
“Would you like some wine, babe?”
“I’ll take a glass of the Stella Rosa peach our hostess mentioned, please.”
“Make it a bottle instead, Ashlyn, and bring us each an ice water. Also, I’m ready to order if my date is.” Making sure to stress the word date, I stare at her the whole time, my gaze never leaving hers. I’m positive our waitress is uncomfortable, but I couldn’t care less. Averill started this little war of words, and I’m damn well going to end it.
“Yes, I’m ready as well.”
“Okay, what would you like?” the waitress asks Averill, turning to face her.
“I’ll have the special, but is it at all possible to have half brought out to the table and the other half boxed to take home?”
“Sure, I don’t see that being a problem. And for you, sir?”
“The same. I’d like my whole order though, thank you.”
“You betcha. I’ll bring your waters and the bottle of wine over in a jiffy. Be right back,” she says as she leaves the table. Where the hell did this girl come from? She’s clearly not from Michigan—she said y’all when she greeted us.
“Back to the subject at hand—my dick sure appreciates what you’ve been doing tonight, Averill, but as I’ve stated once tonight, I need more than one night. If it is all you’re giving me, count me out…for now.”
“Here’s the thing, I’m not certain I can offer more than tonight. You know this scares me. It’s not a question of if I want you or not—it’s pretty damn clear I want you. I’m insanely attracted to you.” Sighing, she finally places her menu down, granting me access to seeing more than her whiskey-colored eyes. “I dream about being with you, Rhys. It scares me to no end. I’m afraid of not only you but of men in general. It’s not a black and white matter, not a simple answer. It’s fucking complicated. There are a million damn strings attached to me, and you’ve only begun to pull one—one string out of a million. If you want me, it’s going to be a fight. I decided to let down my defenses and take you for one night, tonight, because for this night, I’m not afraid.”
Our waitress is making her way back over to our table, thus stopping me from saying too much, but one word is enough.
“Okay.”
It’s the only word she needs to hear from me—at least for tonight.
If this is the only chance I ever get at her being in my bed, I’d be stupid as fuck not to take it, and I’m anything but stupid. I’m taking her to bed. I’m going to change her mind about us.
I’m not certain of a lot in my life right now, but I’m certain of her being in my life for what’s left of it. My dad may be dying for all I know. Martinelli may not let me out of the business. I may eventually have to kill someone. My business may never get off the ground floor and I could lose my life savings tomorrow. I don’t know what will come of any of that, but I’m dead certain there will be an us.
Two bottles of wine later, my tiger is ready to call it a night, at least the public part of the night. She’s not in the mood for the after party in the least, which works out for me too. I’ve thought about nothing else since agreeing to her terms.
She’s offered me tonight and I am taking every minute of it, consequences be damned. If this one night is all I get, I’m going to savor every single second of it.
Averill was unaware of my texting Brant during dinner to let him know our plans had changed for the better and we wouldn’t be joining them. He didn’t ask why and I didn’t say.
Leading her out of the restaurant, I place my arm around her waist—she’s a tad unsteady on her heels. Must be all the wine. She’s leaning into me more than she did on the way in, and while helping her into the SUV, I place a kiss upon her cheek.
“Close your eyes, baby, rest a bit. I’ll wake you when we get to my place.”
“I should’ve warned you about wine making me drowsy. Normally it’s a nonissue. I’m sorry, Rhys.”
“Shh, I’ll hear none of that. Rest, sweetness. We’ll be there soon.” She leans her head back and takes a deep breath, her eyes closing before I even shut her door.
The drive takes me under twenty minutes. Before getting out and waking my sleeping beauty, I quickly text Brant to let him know his keys will be inside on the kitchen counter waiting for him when his Uber driver drops them by to pick up his vehicle. He better be smart and not bring Tessa inside. It’s bad enough he’ll hear the noises coming from the bedroom—noises meant only for me.
Hopping out, I run and unlock my front door before running back to wake Averill.
“We’re here, baby. Open those pretty eyes for me.”
“Mm…Rhys?”
“Yeah, it’s me. We’re at my place. I’ve unlocked the door. Are you alert enough to walk or would you like me to carry you? To be honest, I’d love—and let me stress love—to carry you to my bedroom.”
Something about carrying her makes me feel all territorial.
Possessive.
Protective.
Like I’m caring for what’s mine.
And to think, she’s not even fully mine—not yet, anyway.
“I can walk, but I’d like for you to carry me, too.” She’s blushing as the last word leaves her juicy lips. Could she possibly be embarrassed about wanting me to carry her? Why?
“I know you have issues, a million so-called strings, but let me make one thing clear: nothing we do tonight should embarrass you. Don’t feel like you have to hide who you are from me. If you want me to touch you a certain way, say it. Want me to lick your pussy? Tell me. Want my cock between your pretty pink lips while your tongue conquers me? I’ll give it to you, just don’t be shy about it. If we only have tonight, we’re making the most of it. I plan to keep you up begging for me all night long.”
Her skin is flushed; my words have obviously turned her on. Throwing caution to the wind, I pick her up, slam the door, and proceed into the house.
“Rhys?”
Instead of answering her, I stop inside my front door, slamming her into the wall and kissing my name off of her lips. This kiss is more demanding than any that have come before it. I don’t ask for permission; my tongue demands access. Her legs instinctively wrap around my waist, allowing me to press her farther into the wall. I can feel the spike of her heels on my ass, and it only turns me on more.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling me out of the moment.
“Fuuuck.”
“Yes, let’s.”
“No, baby. My phone is ringing.”
“Oh.”
She unwraps her legs and slides down the wall, like saying the word deflated her. If only she knew how much it pains me to have to answer the damn thing. It’s my work phone, so it can only be bad news. Slowly she makes her way farther into my place and sits on my couch.
“Gallhagar,” I bite out.
“Answer the phone nicer next time, or I’ll have Saul teach you some manners. Your services are needed. Now. Not in a few hours. Not tomorrow. Now. Mikey is on his way to you. No questions.”
Mother effin’ shitballs. He had to fucking call tonight of all nights, my one night with Averill.
“Christ. Fine, I’ll be waiting. One thing before you hang up—I’d like to set up a meeting, sir.”
Instead of answering me right away, I hear a bunch of muffled conversation coming from his end of the line. Averill is pretending not to listen, sitting on the couch at the other end
of the room. I feel horrible having to leave her. I’ll offer for her to stay, but I doubt she’ll want to without me here.
Who would want to wait around for a monster?
It’s nearly two AM anyway, so it’s probably for the best if I take her home or have her wait for Brant to swing by to pick up his SUV. I’m losing out with either option.
“We can meet next week, but you’ll have to come out to the west coast. I have some business to attend to in several California areas. On Tuesday, I’ll be in my San Diego home. You can either come there or meet me in LA on Wednesday. Those are the only options. Consider yourself lucky I’m offering any. I’m extremely busy.”
Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I had planned on working next week solely on my personal business, but this…this is planning for my future—the biggest part, actually.
“Tuesday works for me. The sooner the better. Name the time and I’ll be there.”
Taking a seat next to Averill, I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her in close. She lets out a sigh and relaxes into me.
“Fine, Tuesday in my San Diego home at nine sharp. If you’re not there, I’ll be sure to send Saul. Mikey will be there shortly, and I demand a full report from you when we meet. No exceptions.”
He hangs up, and I’m met with a hundred questions from Averill. It’s bad enough she heard my end of the whole conversation, now I have to explain his end. My grip on the phone is giving away my anger, and I’m sure the look on my face gives away more. It’s a look of not only frustration from being interrupted but anger, annoyance, resentment, and even madness.
“Who was that? Why did you answer? What is going on? Why do you look like you want to kill somebody? Where are you going on Tuesday?”
“First, breathe, babe.” Demonstrating how to breathe probably isn’t the smart thing to do, but I do it. “Like this, inhale.” Bringing air into my lungs, I pause. “And exhale, like this.” I blow out.
“You’re such an asshole.” She hits me square in the chest. “I know how to breathe. Answer my questions, please. The man I heard on the other end of the line did not sound pleasant.”
“Understatement of the year. Trust me, you don’t want to know who it was. To answer your questions, I answered because it was my boss. What’s going on is, I have to leave. The less you know, the better. Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell you, and I want to kill somebody today because you gave me one night and now I have to leave. I’m going to California on Tuesday to meet with him to quit my job.”
For a man who normally gives vague answers at best, this would be considered me opening up a vein and bleeding out.
Instead of answering, she’s slowly shaking her head back and forth.
She’s processing.
“Quit your job? The man on the other end didn’t sound like the lawyer type, Rhys. What kind of lawyer needs to leave the house in the middle of the night?”
More questions. Fuck, I’d falsely hoped my answer would suffice for now.
“Yes, quit my job. I’m in the process of opening my own practice. I hired another lawyer earlier this week, actually, a guy named Ryan. You’d love him. He’s a pretty stand-up guy.”
She’s not answering again, silently shaking her head instead. If I knew it wouldn’t piss her off, I’d tell her how cute she looks.
Not wanting her to think she has to leave, I offer her my bedroom option first. The thought of her falling asleep in my bed does unspeakable things to me.
“You can stay here and sleep in my bed, if you’d like. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but the offer is there. Or I could run you home. Also, there’s the option of you waiting for Brant to swing by.”
“I’d like to stay here, if it’s okay. I’m tired and your bed is the closest. You still didn’t answer my question about what kind of lawyer has urgent work in the middle of the night, but for the moment, I’ll let it go.”
Place a checkmark next to my name in the winning column.
At least something is working out in my favor tonight.
Not wanting Mikey to see Averill, I choose to wait for him outside my house. If he saw her, he’d report it back to Martinelli, and she could later be used against me if anything ever happened to me. Like I’ve stated, I don’t trust Mikey—not much, anyway.
If I were to get out of line, Saul could use her as punishment. Shuddering at the thought, I pace back and forth on my front walkway. It’s a good thing my being out at this hour is a somewhat normal thing; my neighbors won’t be freaked out and potentially call the cops. Ms. Walker across the way has done it before, only once, but still.
That was before she had met me, and the week after, I made it a point to go introduce myself to the neighborhood. I also let them all know I may be outside waiting for a co-worker to carpool into work at weirdly insane hours.
There hasn’t been an issue since.
Looking back now, maybe I should’ve done something before Ms. Walker called the police.
Mikey pulls up a few minutes later and barely has time to put it in park before I’m hopping in the passenger door.
“Fast timing. You must’ve already been on your way here for hours before the call to me came in.”
“Uh, yeah, I’ve been on the road since before midnight. Why, when did the boss call you?”
I’ve always wondered why I’m called at the last minute, just never cared enough to ask before now. It’s been one of those issues you think about but forget when it comes down to it, slips your mind when you want to ask about it.
“A half an hour ago, tops.”
“Huh. Weird, don’t cha think?” He turns to look at me for a moment before clarifying exactly what he’s thinking. “I mean, it’s weird how the boss calls me hours before he calls you. I get why you’re called in last, because you’re not technically ‘family’, but still, you’d think he’d give more notice. What if you couldn’t drop everything or weren’t in town?”
A-fuckin-men. Truer words couldn’t have been spoken.
“Actually, I did have to drop everything tonight and be at his beck and call. To say I’m pissed is an understatement, but it is what it is. Shit happens, am I right?”
“Mind if I ask what plans you dropped tonight? We’ve worked together for a while now and I don’t know much about you.”
Oh, I mind all right. There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him anything about Averill. He’ll never know about her, not a damn thing.
“I was at a concert—well, the after party when the call came in. The hot little number I had lined up to leave with me wasn’t happy in the least when I had to ditch her.”
A semi-truth hidden in a lie. Averill is hot and she wasn’t happy, but we certainly weren’t at the after party.
“For some reason, I figured you already had someone at home, pegged you as the married type, only without the ring. I took it you didn’t wear it to the jobs because of what’s required of you. I mean, you own a fucking house, man. As of a few nights ago, I know you own a classic car, along with your truck. You’re a damn lawyer during the daytime for fuck’s sake.”
What he described is everything I want, what I’m striving for, everything I’m working hard to eventually have. My damn curiosity when it came to Vinny’s murder flung me farther down the rabbit hole than I ever imagined.
Vinny.
“What’s with all this getting-to-know-me bullshit?”
“Like I said, we’ve been working together and know next to nothing about the other. My buddy before you—well, he was actually my cousin—anyway, I knew everything about Vinny. We may not work as closely, but I’d like to know a bit about you. How old are you?”
Vinny was his cousin? Color me surprised. Huh, guess he’s right—we don’t know each other. A few simple details can’t hurt much, I guess.
“28. You?”
“I’ll be forty-seven in a couple weeks. Too damn old for this life. Debating on asking the boss, aka Uncle Vinny, for a cushier job. Don’t yo
u fucking tell him I called him Uncle Vinny—he’d skin me alive.”
“Nah, he wouldn’t. He’d make Saul do it.”
He lets out a half grumble, half laugh. “Isn’t that the truth.”
He’s heading toward the Indiana border. Where the hell is he taking me? Normally when the boss sends him here, it’s for business in Michigan, no more than a few minutes from my place. Something about tonight seems off, and his questions aren’t the only strange thing. This whole night feels staged.
“Tell me what I need to know. Who is it? How much is owed? Where are we going?”
Enough of the personal crap. He knows my age, where I live, and that I’m single—that’s plenty.
“Uh, I figured the boss filled you in on everything.”
He’s nervous, which is not a good sign. Without turning my head, I glance over at him from the corner of my eye. He’s sweating. Mikey doesn’t sweat—unless he’s up to something. I’ve only ever seen him sweat once, and it was the night he took me to Saul.
“Nope. He didn’t tell me anything, only said you’d be coming to grab me, and I set up a meeting with him in San Diego in a couple of days. Maybe my requesting a meeting stopped him from telling me. Oh well, you can fill me in. You’ve always been good about it in the past. Never let me go in blind. I appreciate it, man.”
He’s unaware that I’m still looking at him. He’s gripping the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white from the firm hold.
“Well—uh, we’ll be there in a minute. Someone else is meeting us. I’ll let him fill you in since it’s technically his client, not ours. It’s a favor for the boss, not our business. I know next to nothing myself.”
He’s lying.
The bastard is lying. He’s stuttering, sweating, gripping the wheel, and lying. To top it all off, he tried to get personal information out of me. He must take me for a fool. They all must.
“Listen, I’m not stupid—far from it, actually. You’re lying. Now tell me the truth.” Cracking my knuckles, I turn to glare at him. He doesn’t turn to look at me, another sign he’s nervous. “Now.” And I mean it. The threat I’m implying is real. I don’t give two shits that he’s driving and could potentially kill us both. I’ll take the fucker out while doing it.