Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Bresnik took the lead with Fisnik bringing up the rear. Led to a study in the rear of the house, Bresnik took a seat behind the desk with his brother standing by his side. They were an imposing duo. Identical in every way except hair color and temperament. Bresnik was the levelheaded leader in charge. Fisnik, the loose cannon, his brother holding the leash.

  “Talk.”

  He would. In a minute. First, he had some questions. “Did you really think walking into my establishment, taking her, and strolling out would work?”

  “It worked for you,” Bresnik said.

  “Because you didn’t know I was coming and frankly, neither did I. I didn’t know you were there, not that it would’ve stopped me.” He studied the two brothers. They reminded him of different facets of himself when he was younger and desperate to make a name for himself outside of his father and brother. Outside of the bastard Irishman. “So, you showed up at my place to what, steal her back? Why?”

  “She’s our property,” Fisnik snapped.

  And that’s where the jovial conversation ended. “She is not your property. Never was.” Each word ended on a growl as Harden smiled. “One doesn’t let property quit and find a better job with me. One doesn’t even know property is gone until it walks back into your establishment in a thong.” He paused to give the twins a chance to respond. They didn’t.

  “You came to Denizen because you thought you had the upper hand. Teach me a lesson. You never had an upper hand. But I give you points for having balls. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same a decade ago.”

  “You would’ve done the same. Only you would’ve succeeded.” Bruno muttered loud enough for all to hear.

  “You came all this way to gloat?” Bresnik smirked. “I don’t think so. Get to the point and get out.”

  Harden looked at Bruno, who shrugged. The decision was always Harden’s, but he leaned on Bruno’s input.

  “You said you have a proposition.” Fisnik prompted.

  “Oh, yeah. I’d like to offer you a partnership, similar to the partnership I offered the Mexicans, who happily accepted. I’m making them rich. They’re making me rich. And we all live happily ever after. No blood. No guts. And the cops leave us alone because the streets are quiet. All you have to do is fall in line. There are no monthly dues, no indoctrination ceremony, but there are meetings. Impromptu, last minute gatherings so the po-po don’t catch wind.” My, I’m talkative this evening.

  A glance at Bruno’s questioning stare and smirk, and yeah, he thought the same.

  Fucking Jentry. He snorted. That was the problem. He didn’t fuck Jentry. Misguided honor kept his hard dick in his pants and not in her pussy. He almost licked his lips in memory of her taste.

  “The answer’s no,” Bresnik stated flatly.

  “Because of Alezandar Karpovilov?” The twins reared back, slightly. Enough for Harden to know the name was a barb in their sides. “I know you answer to him, but he’s all the way in St. Petersburg and we’re here. In America. Dollars not rubles.”

  “The answer is no.” Fisnik piped in.

  “Let me guess. You got someone over there in Russia or the Ukraine. Who? If you need a visa, I have a man in immigration who can get you one.” Bresnik’s eyes narrowed a fraction and Fisnik perked up showing more interest now since Harden arrived.

  “The answer is no because you let that bitch slap you,” Bresnik spat. “An insult like that, in public, no one alive would dare touch me and live. You’re weak.”

  Harden rose. “Alright. I made my offer. Since you don’t want a partnership, I’d like a meeting with Karpovilov. Arrange it, please. Zoom would be fine.”

  With Bruno at his back, Harden exited the room, and the house. His men flanked him as he crossed the perfectly edged lawn with its trimmed hedges. He got into his car. Bruno was beside him in seconds.

  “That went as expected.” Bruno stretched out in the seat. “We contact our man at TMZ?”

  “Yes. And send him the footage. Tomorrow their lead story better be violence at Club Denizen. International.”

  Bruno fished out his phone and got to work. Harden’s brain was light years ahead. Good thing he wasn’t completely impulsive. Good thing he liked the long game. Delayed gratification for long-term satisfaction.

  “And the bug?” Harden asked.

  “Planted. Two of them. Low frequency. They won’t find them unless they’re right on top of them. But we won’t hear—take a guess—unless they’re right on top of them.”

  Harden grunted. It was better than nothing for however long the bugs lasted. Bresnik called him weak. Harden chuckled silently. That was his best insult. Weak because Jentry gave him a love tap. That slap was the second-best thing to eating her pussy to happen today. That slap proved she trusted him to not hurt her, not retaliate…much. She felt safe with him, wasn’t cowed. She wasn’t the broken little girl who allowed an asshole to tattoo her body with PROPERTY OF on her back like she was a side of beef. Whoever that girl was, she was gone, replaced by someone stronger, better, who didn’t take anyone’s shit. Including his.

  He saw their hands on her body. Saw them touching what didn’t belong to them. She’s our property, Fisnik said. As if she were a shoe to be worn and discarded. Something beneath him. The disgust on her face was palpable, but she wasn’t afraid. At least not for herself. Her fear was for her sister. Jentry had dealt with such assholes before and was immune because she’d probably dealt with someone much worse. CDJ.

  That motherfucker was dead the moment he lay eyes on him. And God, it had better be soon.

  As for the Ukrainians, they were born together, and they would die together.

  ∞∞∞

  Jentry couldn’t sleep. Five in the morning, the sun would soon crest, and her eyelids wouldn’t close because her brain wouldn’t shut down. The Ukrainians occupied one lobe, and Harden the other.

  Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. The hard place being Harden Gage. Jentry snapped the comforter off her and climbed out of bed. She was too tense, too keyed up. Being in the crosshairs of three killers would do that to a girl.

  She marched into the bathroom and flicked the light on. Too bright! She hit the dimmer until just enough light illuminated the room. Then she filled the jacuzzi tub. A nice, hot soak was her go-to whenever stress got the best of her. It was the only thing she could afford. In the cabinet under the vanity were a bunch of oils, bath bombs, and soaps.

  She got the water as hot as she could stand, poured three different oils—lilac, sunflower, and jasmine—into the steamy water, then peeled off her Sailor Moon sleep shirt she got on her fifteenth birthday.

  “Oh my goodness.” She groaned and settled low in the tub. It was so deep she could drown in the thing. Stretching out on the back rest, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the water lapping under her chin. It had been forever since she had a good soaking. Apartment living didn’t come with a jacuzzi tub, and she wanted to know why the hell not!

  She closed her eyes and savored the heat seeping through her tense muscles all the way to the bone. This was precisely what she needed to help her sleep. Which didn’t come even in the stillness of the bathroom. Her mind continued to circle back to Bresnik and Fisnik. And of course, Harden.

  He had let the Ukrainians into the club, putting her in danger. She didn’t like being bait, especially when she had no idea she was on the hook. It was callous. She was the only parent Allie had. What if something happened?

  A mental slap to the forehead. Dummy, something had happened. Not only had Harden used her as bait, the Ukrainians came to the club with the expressed purpose of finding her. They knew who she was, where she worked, which was more than enough to kill her. But why?

  I’m a stripper. Nothing more. Nothing less. Though now she did have a job. A job Harden gave her, which made her a former stripper, permanently. She wasn’t gullible enough to think she got it on her own when she hadn’t even applied for a new job at any business in the past few weeks.


  She liked her new job. It was fun and interesting. She could be good at it with more time and training. Plus, Lee trusted her, and the staff was nice. It was exactly what she needed to change her life and give Allie a real future.

  How long would that future last with the Ukrainians dogging her heels? And for what? To be used as a pawn in the mobster Olympics? Fuck.

  Harden Gage would protect her if it suited his purpose. Although, he didn’t have to protect her now. Yeah, he did because his friend had asked, but that was when all it entailed was putting her up in his spare apartment. It didn’t entail moving her into his penthouse, blinging out a nursery for Allie, getting Jentry fired from two jobs, and finding her another one—her dream job.

  Then there was the manhandling. He’d tossed her over his shoulder, twice, and in public. Total humiliation.

  And kissed her until her toes curled.

  And ate her until she screamed and creamed, twice!

  The memory of his tongue gliding over her swollen clit had her tingly and achy and hollow. She’d sworn on an imaginary Bible she was done with men and done with sex. Her dead libido had agreed. Turned out her libido wasn’t dead, just dormant, waiting for the right person to apply jumper cables. Harden Gage was not the right person. He was the ultimate bad boy, and she was definitely done with bad boys.

  Definitely!

  Her eyes peeled wide as her half-closed bathroom door creaked open. Jentry didn’t flinch, gasp, or even try to duck deeper into the water and shield herself from prying eyes. Only one person would dare to invade her privacy. One. Person.

  Harden Gage.

  He filled the doorway, feet braced apart, hands in his pockets, bigger than life. His ten-o’clock shadow shaved the polished and slick mobster persona off. Now, he just looked rugged, and sexier. Also, he looked worn. Dressed in the same suit, his day had yet to end.

  “Yes?” She tossed out instead of a useless reprimand he’d ignore. She was a guest. The tub, the water, the entire bathroom, and bedroom belonged to him.

  Brow furrowed at her question, he stepped into the room, his gaze locked on her face. “I saw the light under the bedroom door.”

  “And?”

  His frown deepened. “I knocked, once,” he admitted. “You didn’t answer.”

  “Answering is required at five in the morning?”

  He moved closer until she strained to keep their gazes locked. “When your light is on at that hour, yes. Your bed was empty. The room was quiet. I was concerned.”

  The sincerity in his voice played havoc with her insides. It was…nice…and not as confusing as it should’ve been. Actually, after having his head buried in her lap and his tongue seeming to touch her cervix, it was damn nice. Carl wasn’t a talker or a cuddler after the deed was done.

  “I’m fine. Couldn’t sleep,” she said defensively.

  “And a bath works?” If skepticism had a look…

  “For me it does. I don’t have a masseuse on call. This is the next best thing.” To good sex. She wouldn’t know since the first good sex she’d ever had happened on the tip of Harden’s tongue.

  He made a noncommittal sound and watched her. Suddenly self-conscious, and even though his gaze never left her face, she hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them.

  “What?” she blurted.

  Instead of answering, he came all the way into the room and chose to sit on the lip of the tub, facing her.

  “You’re all dewy.” He stuck a finger out and circled her face, then reached out and brushed away curls she hadn’t noticed clinging to her forehead. His fingers, so careful and tender, traced the shell of her ear, then her jaw, down the column of her neck, to settle on her shoulder. Everywhere he touched left a trail of fire. In the now lukewarm water, a shiver ran down her spine, her nipples peaked, and her breathing became short, all in anticipation of more.

  Fucking libido.

  “Are you done? Relaxed enough?”

  Close to pruning, yeah, she was done. She nodded. Harden pulled a towel from the warmer and held it open. He didn’t ask. He assumed. She could put up a fuss but didn’t have the energy. If the man wanted to hold a towel open for her, be her servant, who was she to deny him, or her, the pleasure.

  She rose and enjoyed the oily water sluicing off her body. He didn’t look as he patted her neck, shoulders, and arms. He turned her and she didn’t think of resisting until it was too late.

  The towel dipped along with the hands on her body. She braced for another round of questions, another round of disgust.

  None came. Harden wrapped the towel around her and stepped out of the room. Actions speak louder than words. Fine. The tattoo itched on her back. She dried her body and pulled on her Sailor Moon sleep shirt. But she wasn’t surprised when she opened the door to find him standing next to the dresser, one hand in his pocket, the other pointing to the bed. “Get in.”

  She wanted to. After the bath, she was more than ready to go to sleep. But not with him standing there. “What are you going to do?”

  Instead of answering, he kicked off his shoes and stretched out on top of the duvet.

  She folded her arms. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “Is that in the biblical sense or the literal sense?” He yawned and adjusted the pillow under his head.

  “Biblical.” She gritted out, annoyed. The sun shadowed the horizon. She was about to crash and crash hard.

  “I’m too tired for anything biblical.” His eyes drifted closed.

  She watched him a moment and then gave up. Whipping back the duvet and covers, she eased onto her side of the bed and pulled the covers tight over her body. Like a turtle, her head peaked out watching him like a hawk. Not once did he move, not even a twitch. Drowsy, each blink heavier than the last, she kept watch until she couldn’t anymore, and sleep dragged her into the abyss.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  10:00 a.m. found Jentry seated on the living room floor with a large pumpkin spiced latte in her hand. Outside was a cold, deary wet day, but inside, the house was warm and toasty, particularly in front of a roaring fire crackling in the fireplace. Allie found it fascinating and kept crawling toward the hearth. Both Jentry and Ms. Vicki did everything in their power to keep her distracted. Luckily, she had the attention span of a squirrel. Dangle anything in her face that made noise and you had her.

  Tired of her usual toys, Allie decided to crawl to the sofa and, using her brute strength, slowly pulled herself up.

  Jentry gasped. It was the first time her baby stood on her own. At nine months it was a milestone, one she hadn’t missed because she worked two jobs. She wanted to squeal but was afraid to scare Allie, who enjoyed her moment with a toothy grin. Positioned at the other end of the sofa, Jentry coaxed her daughter to come to her.

  “Come on. You can do it. One step at a time.”

  Allie lifted one foot up annnnnd put her foot down in the same spot. Over and over again. The tease. That didn’t stop Jentry from encouraging her every single time.

  “Should she be walking by now?”

  Jentry jumped and spun halfway around. How had Harden got so close? She hadn’t even heard his approach. Plus, she thought he wasn’t here. In her defense, she hadn’t asked. If their boundaries were back in place, rocking the boat was unwise. It was best to leave well enough alone and not think about what happened in the early morning hours of the day.

  “The books say anywhere between the ninth and twelfth month. She just turned nine months today.” Her baby was completely, absolutely normal. She looked back at Allie and noticed her nanny was gone. Between one blink and the next, Ms. Vicki had vanished.

  Harden sat near her in the chair at her back. “Did you sleep well, Ms. Playne?” His low, husky voice sent a chill across her nerves.

  Actually, yeah, she had. She’d slept like the dead, dreamless and deep, until Allie’s voice came through the baby monitor on Jentry’s nightstand. She’d jumped up and went to her daughter, but Ms. Vicki had a
lready fed her a delicious bowl of oatmeal and mashed peaches. Yummy. Jentry bathed her, which turned into a bath for both, only Jentry was still clothed. Now, she felt self-conscious dressed in her ratty sweats with holes in the knees and threadbare seat, while Harden was almost irresistible in charcoal slacks and a steel-colored sweater. The sleeves were pushed up, exposing his thick forearms.

  “Well enough,” she murmured, then tacked on, “and you?”

  He grunted. “I haven’t been to bed yet.”

  What? The last thing she remembered was him lying on top of the duvet next to her. He must’ve left right after she fell asleep. Which was good even though the thought disturbed her.

  “Why?” It wasn’t any of her business, but she wanted to know and hoped he’d tell her.

  His gaze was hard, assessing. She didn’t flinch under the scrutiny because she had nothing to hide and was genuinely concerned for him, the head of the New York syndicate. She was worried about him getting enough sleep.

  “Dotting i’s crossing t’s. Making sure you have nothing to worry about ever again,” he said rather cryptically.

  Jentry wasn’t sure how to respond other than to say, “Thank you.”

  He grunted and pulled an envelope out of his pants pocket. “For you. Your first paycheck.”

  She’d only been at the new job a week. It was too soon to receive a paycheck, but she took the envelope and opened it. Sure enough, it was a check. A substantial one with more zeros than she’d ever seen associated with her name. “…Is this before taxes?”

  Harden snorted. “No. That’s after taxes.”

  “Holy…” Her head shot up and nailed him with a sharp glare. “This isn’t a mistake, right?” Or worse, a prank.

  “There’s only one Jentry Playne in all of New York City. There’s something else inside.” He tipped his head to the envelope.