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

by Tmonique Stephens

  When he was done, he tossed the cloth onto the floor and climbed back into bed. Pulled into his arms, she hadn’t a single protest when the blankets covered them, and the lights winked out.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “You ready to go?” Bruno asked, leaning against the Range Rover.

  No. He wasn’t. He woke an hour ago to detangle himself from Jentry’s warm body. He couldn’t, not until he had one more taste, one more kiss, felt her wet sheath surround him.

  All it took was a touch and she turned to him, her body soft, giving even as she became aware of his mouth sucking her nipples and his cock sliding home. He fucked her slowly, drawing out the passion until his name was on her lips as she broke apart and took him with her. Afterward, she returned to sleep with a smile on her face.

  He left her like that, quite pleased with himself. That’s how a man should leave a woman. His woman. With a smile and a note with directions for the next few days. She’s to stay home and go nowhere.

  He checked on the child before returning to his bedroom to dress. The tiny thing was innocent, so perfect. She shouldn’t be anywhere near him, but he’d protect her and her mother with his life.

  “Yeah. I’m ready, though I’d rather be in bed, but this couldn’t wait. Justice must be served,” Harden answered Bruno.

  “You don’t look ready,” Pavel said, waiting next to the Escalade. “You spent the evening between a pair of thighs. I know the look. Seen it in the mirror. That’s the look of not wanting to leave behind good pussy.”

  Harden paused to glare at the man.

  “Just a theory,” Pavel murmured and climbed into the car. He was lucky Harden liked him.

  Harden slammed the car door behind him and made himself comfortable in the back seat. “Everything prepared?”

  “Yeah. We switch cars in Jersey City, then stay off the highways and take the back routes. I have all the cameras mapped out and the route is plugged into a burner,” Bruno said.

  “How long ’til we get there?”

  “About twenty hours taking all the back streets, staying away from cameras, driving the speed limit, obeying all the traffic laws, which gives Leonid plenty of time to be seen around New York, pretending to be you.” Nick summed up. “We got peeps there already, spread out, hiding in plain sight.”

  The plan was good. It would work, as with all their endeavors. “Make sure he stays at Catalyst.” So he didn’t run into Jentry. No reason for her to know about their little deception.

  Harden stretched out as much as he could in the back seat and let his eyes slide closed. “Wake me when we get there.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Hey, pretty lady. How you doing today?”

  Gwen poked Jentry’s side and whispered. “I think he’s talking to you.”

  Class just let out. The first nice day since winter ended and everyone had their coats off and tied around their waists as they headed for the subway or the bus stops. Jentry had plans. She was headed to the mall to put in some job applications, anything to get out of her house and away from her mother’s rules.

  “Did you hear me?” Gwen tugged on her arm.

  Jentry pulled away. “Yeah, whatever. Some guy’s looking my way.” She wouldn’t be the butt of someone’s joke in front of the entire school. She kept walking. “He’s probably looking at someone else.” The sidewalk in front of the school was filled with girls.

  “Um. No. He’s staring at you. I’m sure of it.”

  Some fine ass guy was looking at her? Phhleeasse. “Yeah, right.” She kept walking.

  “Psst.” Then a whistle. A bunch of girls stopped and looked, including Jentry. She hated being whistled at, yet that didn’t stop her reaction. Then again, who wouldn’t stop for a caramel honey with amber eyes and tattoos on his arms. Whoa. He was way out of her league.

  “Hey, you don’t want to talk to me?” he said with a cocky swag and a grin that matched.

  Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! He’s walking right next to me. Looking at me. A quick glance around. Everyone is looking at me.

  And it felt good. Really good.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice smooth and enticing.

  Damn, he was sexier up close. Her heart fluttered and she answered with more courage than she felt. “Jentry.”

  He grinned at her. Oh, he had dimples. “That’s a sexy name for a sexy girl.”

  Yeah, right. She was sexy in her Catholic school uniform. Boys and their bullshit. But he wasn’t a boy. He was a man. Twenty-five, at least, with a real beard. God, her mother would have a shit fit, and that made her smile. Jentry stopped walking. Hand on her hip, she rolled her eyes up to meet his. Oh, he was looking as she licked her lips. “You got a name?”

  “Oh, I got a name.” He stared down at her cockiness on full blast, knowing he had her.

  “Yeah? What is it?” She bit her lip, waiting.

  “Carl. Carl Jones. Your new man.”

  Jentry got all tingly inside because that sounded just right.

  Where did that memory come from? Jentry stretched and cracked her spine, releasing some tension. “That’s what you get for falling asleep on the job,” she grumbled and pushed back from the desk. Great, she left drool on the spreadsheet. How to explain the crinkled spot when it dried to Lee. Tell the truth, he’d think she was lazy. Lie and say it was from a drink, he’d think she was a slob. She’d have to redo it, but not tonight. She’d come in early tomorrow and get it done.

  It was only midnight and she was exhausted. The reason: Harden kept her up last night. Maybe that’s why she had that stupid dream about Carl. You had the best sex of your life and you dream about your asshole ex. What the hell! Why? Why dredge up the past? Stupid brain. Now, she wasn’t only tired, but tired, annoyed, and pissed. All directed at herself.

  The thumping bass from the sound system cleared the remaining fog from her brain. Pushing away from the desk, she grabbed her phone. No messages from Ms. Vicki. Allie had been fussy, then a bit lethargic earlier. Teething was kicking her little ass.

  No messages from Harden either. Not that he’d ever messaged her before. However, after last night, was it unreasonable to expect a message, something, in the twelve hours since he left her sleeping?

  Yes. Apparently, it was too much. One stupid orgasm and her head was in the clouds, demanding texts and phone calls, flowers and dates, meaningful exchanges, all the things she never had before and all the things she’d never get from Harden. Life had taught her to deal in reality, not fantasy. They had sex. It was good—really good—but don’t sprinkle gold dust on it and place it on a pedestal to be admired.

  She’d sworn no one would ever touch her again, not the way she let Carl touch her, leaving scars on her mind, soul, and heart. Leaving behind ice. Ice, Harden melted.

  Memories of last night had heat pooling in her groin. She shifted in the seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. It would be the work of a moment to slip her hands between her thighs and get herself off. Her gaze rolled to the security camera tucked into the corner of the ceiling. Security had enough tape of her dozing on the job. They didn’t need more of her masturbating.

  Harden had opened Pandora’s box. Where once she felt nothing from the neck down, suddenly, her twenty-year-old body was aware of everything. The bite of the November wind caressing her cheeks. The brush of clothing on her skin. The lace teasing her nipples. The bass in tune with her heartbeat. The frenetic music pouring out of the speakers into her ears blazing a path to her clit. Since waking, everything had an erotic haze feeding her central nervous system. Now that her ice was broken by the cold-eyed killer, she burned, constantly.

  Carl had lit the match, introducing her virgin body to pleasure, then doused the kindling when he used her naivete against her. He took all that should’ve been good between a man and a woman and poured acid all over it. There was a Jentry before Carl and a Jentry after Carl, two diametrically opposed characters. There was a Jentry before Harden and a Jentry after Harden. She
liked this Jentry. This was close to the Jentry she was meant to be—hungry for life, not a plate of food. Harden took a blowtorch to her kindling until she was ablaze. The fire he’d ignited would never go out. She wouldn’t let it.

  In face of all of that, she couldn’t ignore Carl. He had to be dealt with, and she didn’t mean killed. She wouldn’t ask Harden to do what she couldn’t, and she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill her daughter’s father. She wasn’t that cold-blooded. That decision meant she’d have to deal with him. Dealing with him meant visitation and shared custody.

  Her stomach rolled.

  It also meant child support.

  Her stomach settled.

  Child support. Hmm. That alone may send him running. Also, let him see who he plans on fucking with. Who he plans on milking? Let him realize I’m the only thing keeping him alive.

  That was her plan, shitty and sketchy as hell, but that’s what she had. Intimidation through Harden, even though he wouldn’t be present. She thought it best for her to deal with Carl on her own and bring Harden up to speed when he returned.

  Yeah, she nodded to herself. It had better work. It would work.

  She picked up her phone and sent him a text. If he wanted to see his daughter and be a father to his daughter—Allie, not Alice—he could meet her at 5:00 p.m., followed by the address.

  Jentry left the office. Nodding to Quincy, she took up residence in the shadow of the stairs leading to the skybox, watching the crowd.

  Twelve hours ago, she’d lurched upright in her king-size bed, naked with just a blanket covering her body. And alone. Though that didn’t stop her gaze from darting to every corner with disappointment tightening her chest. He was gone. Like she was a booty call. At least he didn’t leave money on the night table.

  She’d whipped the blanket back and…all of her groaned as she climbed out of bed, only to perch on the edge and gather her strength because it had been a while since she used those muscles, and used them as she had. Three orgasms… Definitely four. She’d lost count as her body convulsed around his cock.

  It wasn’t that good. He wasn’t that good she’d lied to herself. She just hadn’t had any dick in forever. He damn sure was better than Carl, that limp dick, one trick, one nut sonofabitch.

  Four orgasms when she hadn’t any with Carl. Not a one. She was too inexperienced to know what she was missing and when she did, too afraid to demand better.

  Her pussy continued to ache so sweetly, remembering all the ways Harden took her hours ago. Sex with Harden. Would it happen again?

  Did she want it to happen again?

  Her pussy said, “Hell yeah!”

  Standing in the dark, hidden from the prying eyes of the staff and patrons, the more logical, rational side of her had a different opinion. It was wiser. It knew the rules. This was a hook-up. Nothing more. A one-night thing. Nothing more. Nothing less. Don’t overthink it. It wasn’t a big deal, it was just sex, she had to remind herself every few hours when the need for his presence was an itch beneath her skin and a tingle between her thighs. Just sex, plain and simple. Nothing special. And that’s precisely what she planned on telling him whenever he returned from wherever the fuck he went.

  She should be pleased he’d left her a note propped against the lamp on the nightstand when he didn’t have to leave her anything.

  Gone fishing. Will return in a few days. Stay in the apartment. Do not leave. What about your job, you ask? I’m your boss. Do not disobey me.

  Disobey him? It had to be a joke.

  “Where is he?” she’d asked the first bodyguard she’d lay eyes on, like she was a wife, lover, girlfriend, like she was owed an explanation when, in truth, she was none of the above.

  Tight-lipped, they said nothing, just watched her like she was an atomic bomb. Or like she was the boss’s woman they were charged with protecting. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that or if it were even true. But it was close enough. Wife, lover, girlfriend, no. The woman the boss was temporarily fucking, yes.

  Fine! He wanted her to stay in the house, she’d do so. But as day turned to night and night turned to day, she worried about him.

  And she missed him. God, how she missed him.

  Lee told her she had to circulate, let the crowd see her. Harden owned the club, but he was unapproachable. She ran the club; she was the one they would approach with praise or critique. She was powerful and to let them see it, even if that power was through Harden.

  With Quincy trailing her steps, she started at the VIP section. She greeted the ballers, shot callers, playboys, influencers, and trust fund babies. Each table got a complimentary bottle of champagne on Harden’s account. Happy Holidays!

  Circling the crowded dance floor, her gaze skimming the crowd, she spotted a blond head at the bar. It was him, surrounded by bodyguards, it couldn’t be anyone else. Anxious, she cut through the crowd, but halfway to the bar, he was gone.

  Where? Gaze darting from pillar to post, she scanned the room, growing more frantic by the second. Had she imagined it? She wasn’t that horny to conjure the man out of thin air. Or maybe she was. The crowd moved against her, trapping her. Where the hell was Quincy shadowing her footsteps to keep this precise scenario from happening? It had been like this when Bresnik and Fisnik tried and failed to snatch her. Harden had saved her that night. Then took her to the skybox and buried his tongue inside her core, introduced her to the delight of cunnilingus.

  Her gaze cut to the skybox. The lights were on when they were previously off. He was here!

  Arms circled her waist and pulled her into a hard body. She froze, then melted in the middle of the dance floor. He felt so good even with his bulky coat blocking full contact. “You’re back.” She angled her head and glimpsed his clean jaw, a jaw that wasn’t as hard, broad, or strong.

  It wasn’t Harden.

  She struggled to free herself only to have the man hiss in her ear. “It’s Leonid. Stop it.” She stilled but didn’t relax. “Pretend I’m Harden. Just go with it.”

  “Why?” she whispered, more worried than afraid. “Where is he?”

  “Not your problem.” He spun her around and wrapped his body around her. From a distance, in low lighting, around unfamiliar people, yeah, he could pass, especially with the wig the exact shade of Harden’s hair and the wrap-around shades. Obnoxious in a dimly lit club, but necessary for the deception to work. Similar jaw and bone structure, and a fake five-o’clock shadow, yeah, he pulled it off.

  “Hug me, damn it. Make it real.” He ordered.

  Jentry would never be up for an Academy Award, but she wrapped her arms around his neck, and looked into the shades covering his eyes. “Why are you pretending to be Harden?”

  “I’m enabling him to be in two places at once.”

  What?

  He smirked, then planted his mouth on hers. Disgusted, she yanked away, but he held the back of her head. Protesting was useless when his tongue was down her throat, and he said to make it real. So, she kissed him, for Harden’s sake, because if they believed he was here with her, then he couldn’t be wherever he really was.

  “Skybox. Now,” she whispered, coming up for air. This time he let her go but hooked her waist and tugged her to his side. It was a public display she wasn’t sure Harden would approve of. She eyed Quincy taking the lead through the crowd and wondered if he’d spill the beans. Glancing at Leonid strolling beside her, her lips were sealed. She had no intention of breaking up a friendship.

  To the skybox they went, she stayed silent until the door closed behind them. “Alright, spill.”

  He strolled around the room, went to the window to look out at the crowd, be seen, then shaded the window with a single command. Only then did he take off the shades allowing her to see his blue eyes.

  She pointed to his head. “The wig is good.”

  “But it didn’t fool you.”

  “Almost, but no.”

  “I wasn’t trying to fool you. But what gave it away? You knew the tru
th before you saw me.” He tracked to the bar. “We’re the same height, same build.”

  “You don’t feel the same,” she confessed. No one felt like Harden. “You certainly don’t kiss the same.” Or taste the same. “Harden’s better.”

  “Give me another chance to prove you wrong,” he purred.

  Jentry snorted. She wasn’t interested. Not in the least. “Where’s Harden?”

  “Need to know, and you don’t need to know.”

  That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Is he okay?”

  “I haven’t heard any different.”

  Fine. “When will he be home?”

  Leonid cranked his head to the side. “I can’t decide what you sound more like, his wife or his mother?” He tsked.

  It would be so easy to lose it. “Let’s play nice. Harden doesn’t need to return home to find two dead bodies.”

  “You think you can take me?

  “No. But if I got hurt in the process…”

  “Wily. I see why he likes you.” He poured himself a tumbler of vodka.

  That gave her the warm fuzzies.

  “You think the penthouse is your home?”

  She shrugged. “It is for now.”

  “Funny, because that’s not his home.”

  “What?”

  He laughed. “That’s where Aida, his wife, is.”

  The ground must’ve opened and swallowed her. That had to be the pain lancing through her chest. She gripped the first bottle she touched and poured it into a glass. One long gulp left her hacking up both lungs. Ugh! She just drank a glass of Bunnahabhain twenty-year-old whiskey like it was water. And it wasn’t. God. She needed to sandpaper her tongue, and her throat.

  “You should see your face. The pain. Sweet. Don’t get bent. She’s dead.”

  It shouldn’t be a relief, but it was. “How did she die?”

  “Harden killed her.”

  Jentry sat on a barstool before her knees gave out while Leonid poured them both another drink from the whiskey. She took the glass and sipped because she needed the strength.