by Meghan March
His expressive mouth turned downward. “You go back out there and you’re gonna get more of the same. You look exactly like the fucking tourist you are carrying that bag around. Makes you a target, if you haven’t figured that out yet. Why the hell didn’t you leave it somewhere?”
“Because the hotel didn’t have a room for me, and told me no one else would either. I didn’t exactly plan this.”
“Which hotel?”
“The Roosevelt.”
He didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a close call. Maybe he was staring up to the ceiling for divine guidance?
“You just showed up there thinking you could get a room a few days before Mardi Gras without a reservation? You fucking serious?”
I bristled at his tone. I was so freaking sick and tired of being scolded like I was a child.
“Hey—” I started, having no clue what I was going to say, but I was going to say something, dammit, and it was going to be good. But the giant interrupted me.
“Did you have a plan? Walk all over town looking for a hotel? Probably get fucking mugged, if not raped, in some dark alley too?”
The brunette who had stormed out of the shop had been right. He was a prick, even if he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
I propped a hand on my hip and injected confidence into my voice. “I’ll find something. Not every hotel can be booked.”
He shook his head. “Any hotel room within ten miles is booked. Even the ones that rent by the hour.”
My very first chance to venture outside the insulated world mandated by Dom Casso, and I manage to pick the one city with no vacancies. How is this fair? Maybe I am just a liability. The negativity welled up, but I shoved it down. I would not fail at this.
Straightening my spine, I gripped the handle of my suitcase tighter. “Then I guess I better start looking somewhere else.”
He pointed to one of the chairs lining the wall beside me. “Sit. Don’t go anywhere. I have an idea.”
I dropped into a seat at the authoritative command and froze as he turned his back to me.
How long had I been blindly following orders? And from some random stranger, at that? My judgment was clearly faulty.
I started to stand, but an inconvenient thread of curiosity kept my butt in the chair. If he had an idea, maybe I should stay. What other choice did I have right now? Run back outside and fight my way to a taxi to take me and have it take me to the airport Holiday Inn? That would be giving up my one shot at this adventure, and I wasn’t ready to admit defeat.
Besides, even if he was a jerk, his first instinct had been to protect me. That said something, right?
I stayed seated while he pulled out his phone and tapped something on the screen. When he was done, he leaned back on the counter and shook his head.
“You’ve got no business wandering around this city alone, and I don’t have time to be your keeper.”
Before I could retort that I didn’t need a keeper, the door chimed, and I jerked my head around to see a blue-and-black-haired woman in a retro neon-green leopard print dress, complete with black petticoat fluffing out the skirt, strut inside.
“Working during Mardi Gras season sucks.” She held up a brown paper bag in one hand and a drink carrier in the other. “But I got the food. And coffee. So hopefully we can get through tonight and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.”
Her gaze landed on me as she lowered the bags and drink carrier onto the counter. “Well, well. Don’t you look like a little lost lamb? You here for some ink, sugar?”
The man-bunned giant let out some kind of half laugh, half scoff. “She look like she’s here for ink?”
“Guess that means she doesn’t fall into your hands-off rule then, Bish.”
What did that mean?
The dark glower that took over Bish’s face had me poised on the edge of my seat to run. Man-bun plus beard plus all those tattoos plus angry scowl finally tipped the scale from dangerously gorgeous to just flat-out dangerous.
“I think I should get out of your way.”
The woman cocked her head to the side, and her inspection sealed my decision to take my chances on the street. I’d be fine. Probably.
I shoved out of the chair but only made it a few steps toward the door with my bag in tow before long fingers wrapped around my wrist. Fight-or-flight instincts burst to life as I turned with my hand balled into a fist.
“If you actually knew how to throw a punch, you wouldn’t tuck your thumb under your fingers.” He dropped his hold on my wrist to pry my thumb out of my fist. “Otherwise, you’re liable to break it.”
I tucked the knowledge away in case hand-to-hand combat came up in the near future. His scowl had lessened, but I didn’t like the patronizing expression.
“You shouldn’t just grab people,” I said, tugging to release my hand from his grip, but Bish held fast.
“If you hadn’t jumped out of your chair so damn fast, I would’ve told you I’m trying to get you a place to stay.”
I looked from him to the woman who watched us like a zoo exhibit. Her black eyebrows rose so high, they disappeared behind her blunt-cut Bettie Page bangs.
“You’re . . . you’re trying to find me a room?”
“During Mardi Gras?” the woman interjected. “Damn, Bish. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think she already blew you in the back to get that kind of help.”
I stiffened at her insinuation. I wasn’t the kind of girl to . . . blow a guy in a tattoo parlor. Although now that she’d put the idea in my head, I couldn’t keep my gaze from dropping to the level of his belt buckle.
Whoa. There’s a bulge.
“Shut it down, Delilah.”
I jerked my head up to look at both of them, hoping no one had caught where I was staring.
The woman, Delilah, smirked rather than replying, and heat burned up my cheeks. She’d definitely caught me. The wink she threw me sealed it.
A quiet buzz sounded from Bish’s phone, and he tapped out something else. When he looked up, he nodded. “I got a place for you to stay for a couple days, but I need to clean up before I can take you.”
“I can go myself if you tell me where. I’m not completely helpless.”
He shook his head. “Not fucking happening.”
Delilah followed him as he disappeared into one of the small rooms toward the back of the shop where they must do the tattoos. It was actually a really cool place. The interior said gothic voodoo plus a touch of heavy metal and rock ’n roll—at least, that was my interpretation of it. Regardless, I could see why Delilah had given me such an odd look. It was way too cool for me and my polo shirt and Sperrys.
Part of me wanted to take a closer look at the pictures of their work on the walls, and maybe even stick around to watch them give someone a tattoo, but I knew that wasn’t in the cards. Instead, I stayed by the door, one hand wrapped around the handle of my suitcase as part of my brain told me to grab the door handle and run.
Delilah had plenty of questions for Bish, and her voice carried well enough for me to overhear.
“What the hell are you doing? You don’t get involved and try to help people ever. Where the fuck did you find a room, anyway? You taking her home?”
My fingers grasped the knob. There was no way I was going home with him. But before I twisted the knob, he replied.
“Fuck no, I’m not taking her home. A friend saved me a balcony room at the Royal Sonesta for a few days to party. I wasn’t in the mood to party tonight, so I was gonna let it go. Now I’m not. Simple as that.”
I released my grip on the door handle with a rush of relief. A hotel.
“You’re gonna give up a balcony room on Bourbon during Mardi Gras to help some girl you’ve never met? What the fuck happened while I was gone, Bishop?”
Bishop. I rolled the name around on my tongue, surprised at how much I liked it—and how well it suited him.
“Nothing happened. But you know as well as I do from one look at her that she d
oesn’t have a fucking clue what she walked into.”
“And since when do you care?”
“Leave it alone.”
Delilah backed off, and I dropped my gaze to the black-and-white-tiled floor and pretended like I wasn’t exercising mad eavesdropping skills.
Bishop strode toward me, his face impossible to read. “Let’s go.”
Decision time. Based on Delilah’s shock, this wasn’t something that was in character for Bishop. My hesitation must have been obvious, because he stopped in front of me.
“Your choice, cupcake. Hotel room or take your chances on your own. We both know the smart move here.”
Delilah followed behind him, her heels clicking on the floor. She propped a hand on her hip and her gaze swung from him to me.
“He’s not gonna hurt you, sugar. He might be an ass, but he’s the kind of ass you can trust with your life.”
What choice did I really have?
I forced my lips into an imitation of a polite smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
He grunted in response before peeling back my fingers to release the death grip on my suitcase.
“What—”
My question was cut off when he lifted the carry-on and strode out the door.
“Would you look at that . . .” The words came as a whisper from Delilah. Her eyes cut from the doorway Bishop walked out of to me. “Better catch up with him, because at this rate, who knows what he’ll do next.”
I DIDN’T GET INVOLVED. I never got involved. So, why the fuck was I carrying a suitcase that had to cost more than a month of my rent to the Royal Sonesta with a girl trailing after me who had prim, proper, and helpless written all over her?
Because I couldn’t let her fend for herself in this mess? Since when did I care about random people off the street?
I glanced back to see if she was keeping up, and slowed when I realized she was lagging more than a few steps behind me.
Pink-and-white polo shirt with no doubt some fancy logo on it. Dark skinny jeans. Fucking Sperry Top-Siders. And then that face and those eyes. Like a sucker punch to the gut.
I wasn’t the kind of guy for women like her. The kind that fell into the category marked off with caution tape that read GOOD GIRLS – PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK. But for some reason, my brain and my dick couldn’t get on the same page.
Not that my dick was going anywhere near her. Fuck, she probably had some kind of force field to keep guys like me away from her pristine self. Then why does she look at you like that? I saw the fascination in her eyes when she looked at me, and I was going to fucking ignore it.
She finally caught up, and I shortened my stride so she could keep pace. Questions burned on the tip of my tongue, but I shut them down.
I don’t get involved.
But seriously, what the fuck was she doing in New Orleans with no hotel room during Mardi Gras? That didn’t scream sophisticated world traveler to me. Something wasn’t adding up.
Doesn’t matter.
I kept my eyes straight ahead, scanning the streets, moving to dodge people and glancing down at her no more than once every thirty seconds to make sure she wasn’t falling behind again.
But that excuse was bullshit because I never let her out of my peripheral vision. Still, that was how I saw her drag her gaze up to my face as though she was trying just as hard to figure me out when she should have been keeping track of the pavement beneath her feet.
“Fuck,” I bit out as she caught a toe on the uneven cobblestone and pitched forward toward a girl in a silver bikini top and not much else. Cupcake’s arms shot out to brace her fall, but before her hands could make contact with the girl or the ground, I wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her up beside me.
The cry of surprise I’d expected to hear when she was falling didn’t come until she was flush against my side and the scent of something beachy and citrus invaded my nose. Of course she has to smell better than any woman I’ve ever gotten close to. Fuck me.
“Thank you.” The words were hushed, probably because her face was buried in my shoulder.
I stilled and waited for her to unwrap her fingers from around my wrist and disconnect us.
As soon as she became aware of how she’d clung to me, she jumped away like she’d just learned I was a leper.
“Watch yourself.”
“Sorry. I’m not usually this clumsy.”
I wasn’t sure I could believe that so I started walking again, and she hurried to keep up. When the door on the side of the Royal Sonesta finally came into view, relief and disappointment punched into me.
I just needed to get the key, get the girl in the room, and get the hell back to the shop. My good deed for the day—more like for the year—would be done, and I wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen to her on her own. And I’ll never see her again.
The crowd parted ahead of me, and I tugged on the knob of the side door. It didn’t budge.
Fuck.
“I . . . uh, I think you have to have a keycard to get in.” She gestured to the gold plaque and the card reader beneath it.
Shit. This was why I only agreed to party in a hotel room if someone I knew was already there or I already had the key. Dealing with front-desk managers wasn’t my thing.
“Come on.” I wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her toward the service door that led into the parking garage under the hotel. She stiffened but followed.
I inhaled the combination of exhaust, brake fluid, and gasoline that finally drove her scent from my nose. Better that way.
Inside the garage was a door that led to the hotel, and I reluctantly released my hold on her before pushing it open and gesturing for her to enter ahead of me. We made our way through a maze of hallways until we reached the lobby.
The desk clerks looked overworked and underpaid as they dealt with drunken partiers and answered the nonstop ringing phones.
I caught sight of Leon and joined his line. The girl hung back, which was fine by me.
Leon, a client of mine whose ink was completely hidden by his uniform, smiled when he saw me. “Hey, man! Didn’t think you would actually take me up on the room and let me pay off a little of what I owe you.”
“I appreciate it, brother. How many nights did you block this one off for?”
His eyebrows went up and he checked the computer. “It’s blocked until Wednesday morning, but only comped for two nights. I can’t comp it the whole time without getting fired.”
“That’s no problem.” Her voice came from beside me as she slid a credit card across the counter. “You can use this for whatever you need to charge.”
Leon looked from the girl to me and then down at the card before swiping it. “That works for me. Thank you, Ms. Madden.”
Ms. Madden. Now my curiosity was beating at me because I needed to know her first name but I wasn’t about to ask in front of Leon.
After he returned the credit card and slid two room keys across the counter, she stepped away. Leon smiled and winked at me. “Enjoy your night. I know I would if I were you.”
“Thanks, man. Consider us even.” I didn’t address his comment because I was sure he figured I’d be fucking Ms. Madden six ways to Sunday in the room tonight, but that wasn’t on the menu.
As I followed her to the elevator, I got my first good look at her from behind. Long blond hair tumbled over her shoulders to the middle of her back, and her ass filled out those jeans in the best way possible.
If she were on the menu, I’d fucking devour her.
My dick jumped in agreement, and I had to force myself to think about something else. Like the fact that hooking up with a girl like her would lead to nothing but trouble, even if she had been throwing out the signals that she was interested, which she wasn’t.
Even better. I was picturing her ass cupped in my hands while I lifted her up against the wall of the elevator we stepped into, and she was trying to pretend I didn’t exist.
Heavy silence hung in t
he air as she stared at the floor and I pressed the button for the third floor.
The mirrors told the truth, though, and she sneaked more than one glance at me before we stepped out.
Ms. Madden started down the hall ahead of me.
Ms. Madden. Way too frigging proper. Gave me all sorts of ideas about teaching her just how improper she could be.
Not happening.
“What’s your name, girl?” The question came out more like a bark, fueled by frustration with my inability to lock my shit down.
She jerked around at my harsh tone and nearly tripped over her own feet on the carpet.
“Uh . . . E-Eden,” she stuttered, and then shut her mouth so quickly her teeth clacked together.
Once again, I reached out to steady her, but was slow to drop my hand from her hip.
“Watch yourself.” It was as much a warning to me as it was to her.
“Sorry. It’s been a long day.” Her gaze met mine for a moment before dropping away.
I reached up, and she froze as if expecting me to touch her again, but I pointed at the wall behind her.
“Looks like we found your room.”
WOW. I SUCK.
The first time I needed to give my name on my new ID, and I totally choked. I was the worst mobster’s daughter in the history of mobsters’ daughters.
I spun around and faced the door to the room, hoping to hide the panic at my mistake.
Bishop reached around me to slide the keycard into the reader, and the heat from his body radiated against my back. I held my breath, wondering if he’d press against me, and then gave myself a mental slap for even considering it.
He was a perfect stranger. A dangerous stranger. Who found me a place to stay when I would have otherwise been out of luck. It didn’t add up.
But the puzzle of Bishop poofed into a cloud of smoke when he pushed open the door, and I took in the scene before me.
Two women. Naked. One spread-eagle on the bed, and the other licking and sucking a path down her body as her fingers pumped in and out between her legs.
Oh my God. Live porn. Right in front of my face.
I tried to back away but slammed into Bishop’s chest. “Uh, wrong room?” I turned toward him, desperate to get out.