Jaxon - Bad Boys of New York Book #1

by Mackenzy Fox

  My eyes go wide and I grin. “Yeah, I know what you mean, you should see this guy in the flesh, he’s a first-class dirtbag.”

  “The short of it is he visits a lot of porn websites.”

  I sigh.

  “So do I and so does just about every man in America, that’s not a crime,” I huff. I need something more, something I can use against him if it comes to that.

  “He likes gay porn sites,” Zane adds.

  I hold the phone out and stare at it, then bring it back to my ear. “Come again?”

  “Yeah, exactly my thoughts, interesting for a married straight guy, right?”

  Brandon Thomas likes watching… other guys? Kind of a bit out there for a so-called straight married guy alright, though it would not surprise me these days who’s trapped in the closet.

  “It’s not much to go on,” Zane says. “But I’ll stick one of the guys on him, see what he gets up to when his wife isn’t watching.”

  I think for a second. I look through the window and over at the table. Morgan’s laughing at something on Jolie’s phone as they both watch the screen.

  “Yeah, I need more, let me know when you’ve got something on him I can use.”

  “Already on it.”

  “Thanks, Zane.”

  “Talk later.”

  I hang up and make my way back inside.

  One thing is for sure; Brandon Thomas is not clean, oh no he isn’t, I’m going to find something on him and if I don’t find out from Morgan first, I’m gonna ramrod it down his throat along with my fist.

  Gay porn? I mean, what the fuck? He never struck me as the type, but then again, am I really surprised? If I can get something concrete on him, like an affair, for example, this will hurt him. Hurt his career; hurt his branding. He’s married with another kid on the way, he’s a poster boy for the white picket fence and success in all its glory, there’s no way he’d want this out in the open, he’s too high profile.

  I have to figure out if he’s just a seriously creeped out mother fucker who likes to watch men or if he is something else entirely.

  I glance up at Morgan and she meets my eye quickly across the table. It doesn’t really matter either way, I’m gonna get him. I always win. Always.

  Dinner is a strange event. We eat out at a vegan restaurant with a spectacular view of the harbor and Golden Gate Bridge. Maybe I should have known by now that Morgan is a vegetarian. I have no idea what a black bean and beetroot burger is but that’s what I’m eating, it actually tastes pretty good all things considered, nobody else seems to have a problem with it, in fact, they have a jug of lime margarita that’s being passed around the table and Nachos as an entrée.

  The staff act like it’s the best work conference ever.

  I like it here. It’s kind of peaceful compared to New York. It’s busy, sure, but in a more laid-back kind of way. And the sunset, wow. I’ve never really noticed anything as normal as a sunset in New York, maybe I need to get outdoors more, smell the roses.

  We take a couple of cabs back to the hotel and since most of us are on the same floor, I escort Morgan and Lori and Jolie back to Morgan’s suite as they want to have some girl time. Whatever that shit is. They have a spa day planned tomorrow afternoon, and being the last night, dinner is downstairs at the fancy five-star buffet.

  I admit, it has been kind of cool being away for a few days, change of scenery and all of that. Plus, everything’s been a lot calmer here, I thought it would be worse protecting her away from what I know but it hasn’t been. I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks after all.

  I watch movies until late and don’t hear anything from next door, good, catching up on my beauty sleep wasn’t something I thought I needed until now.

  The next day is better and it’s worse at the same time.

  They have an expo just after breakfast and it’s crammed full of people looking at stalls and set-ups displaying new technology and programs, a geek’s wet dream but it does nothing for me. I don’t like tight-knit places like this with people shoving and getting too close. I stay close to Morgan and basically mirror her every move.

  When she thinks the others can’t hear, she looks up at me. “Personal boundaries mean anything to you?”

  “That’s rich coming from you,” I mutter back. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re crammed in like sardines here.” I look over her head at the exit door. There’s one to the left and at the back and an emergency fire escape, I do my homework… unlike some people.

  She purposely avoids looking at me. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that ever again.”

  Clearly, she wants to; she’s the one bringing it up.

  “We may not talk about it but I bet you’ve been thinking about it,” I say, keeping my tone low just for shock value.

  She shakes her head like she isn’t affected by me just as Jolie steps next to her; I can always rely on her two-second attention span to get me out of a jam, she links her arm with Morgan’s and drags her over to a stall chattering like a kid in a candy store.

  The expo goes on for hours and I watch the girls and Marcus work the crowd, meet people, exchange business cards, and take away paraphernalia.

  We stop off for sushi on the way back to the hotel and they all decide to meet up at the spa in a couple of hours’ time. Morgan informs me she’d like to go use the gym.

  Great. Now I get to see her in her workout gear, just what I need.

  We ride down to the top floor and I keep my eyes forward and not at Morgan in hot pink yoga pants and a crop top. Jesus, she’s got a nice rack. I mean, I know I already know that but pushed up in a sports bra is out of this world.

  She carries her little gym bag with her and gets on the treadmill to jog it out for half an hour, then she does a few rounds of the leg machines followed by some sit-ups on a yoga mat. Being mid-afternoon on a Friday, the gym isn’t busy, so I pretty much stand there and get to gawk at Morgan all to myself. I have my shades on so she can’t see where I’m looking.

  After she’s sweated it out and ignored me the entire time, she gets a text from Jolie saying they’re all going to the pool.

  “Shoot,” she says out loud. “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

  I turn to her.

  “I’m sure they’d have one in the gift shop upstairs,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “I’m guessing,” I add as an afterthought. God, the thought of her in a bikini…..

  She narrows her eyes. “Don’t suppose you’d like to go pick that out for me? Since you’ve had a face like a wet mop this entire time, might cheer you up since you love women’s shopping so much.”

  I don’t react to that, it’s all she wants. “I doubt you’d want me picking your swimsuit, MJ.”

  “Oh yeah, and whys that?” she huffs, hands on her hips. God, I love winding her up. I’m a sadistic son of a bitch but she takes the bait every single time.

  “Wait, you said swimsuit, right, not birthday suit?”

  I keep a straight face but I want to laugh out loud. She goes bright crimson.

  “You just can’t leave it alone, can you?”

  “Oh, come on, if this were anybody else, you know you’d be laughing your ass off.”

  “Well, it’s not anybody else I know, is it?” she says, shoving past me, waving her card at the door buzzer. “Anyway, it’s the last time I’m helpful to anyone, it always lands me in trouble, next time find your own damn suitcase.”

  God, if only she knew how much trouble she’d be in if she actually wanted to join me in the shower. I do my best work all steamed up against a wall. People underestimate the traction you can get against a wall tile, it’s terribly underrated.

  “White’s a good color for swimsuits,” I say, joining her in the elevator.

  “Kiss my ass,” she mutters as I smirk into my water bottle.

  “Lucky for you, I don’t follow orders,” I mumble so she can still hear me.

  I hope to God she doesn’t pick white.
r />   Black.

  A bikini.

  I realize this will be torture.

  The top barely contains her breasts and the bottoms may as well be non-existent. I really don’t think that swimming is necessary at this time of year, but apparently, the pool is heated, the only thing heated though is the blood boiling in my veins.

  I want her and it’s a strange sensation not being able to take what I want. I don’t appreciate my body’s constant reaction to her but it’s out of my control.

  Her body is curvy in all the right places, she’s got wide hips, a flat stomach, and that rack could bowl a man over. I should evacuate the pool so nobody else can look at her but that would be a bit over the top. I just wish I could stop the throb in my pants. I’m acting like a freaking teenager right now.

  She doesn’t get her hair wet, like all snobby girls tend to do, and really, she calls it ‘swimming’ but I’d call it wading around trying not to get splashed by anybody, namely Jolie who keeps jumping in having competitions with Marcus on who can make the biggest splash.

  It does look like fun but I keep my distance and scan the perimeter, no matter how much I’m enjoying the show, I don’t get distracted for long.

  The whole time I’ve been watching Morgan, I’ve not noticed anything out of the blue, or odd or anything untoward, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I know the threats John gets are real, and I take this job seriously. I worked too long in this business to know things are rarely as they seem. I take nothing lightly and this job is no different.

  Luckily for me, the pool party doesn’t go on all afternoon because the spa is calling. I leave Ryan outside while I take a call from John. He’s just checking in and I assure him all is okay, Morgan’s safe and at the spa and we will be back home tomorrow evening.

  I go down to the restaurant and meet with the concierge who shows me the table we have booked for tonight. There are some amazing smells coming from the kitchen, that’s all I can say. The night goes off without a hitch, everyone is happy and enjoying themselves, the buffet is huge. I sent Ryan down earlier to eat and I’ll take a plate back to the room later. The staff here are very attentive, especially the head waitress, she’s been giving me extra attention all night which I politely ignore. I’m glad none of these people that work for Morgan are party goers and don’t want to go out, it seems everyone is super tired after a full three days of activities, it also makes my job easier if we’re just going up to bed and it’s not even midnight.

  I escort Morgan back to our adjoining room and bid her goodnight. She hasn’t spoken to me for most of the evening, only to be polite where absolutely necessary. I know it’s because I’m purposely goading her and she probably has every right to be mad at me for bringing up the shower thing again, it’s not very professional and I should act like it never happened, but making her suffer just a little bit satisfies the egotistical asshole in me. I never professed to be a knight in shining armor and I don’t plan on being one now.

  “Do we have time to fit some shopping in tomorrow?” she asks, stifling a yawn. She’s taken her shoes off and carries them by the straps dangling from one of her fingers.

  Shopping. Is that all girls think about?

  “The flight is at five, so we would have some time in the morning.”

  “Okay, it would be nice to hit the shops before we checkout.”

  This is annoying, it means I have to organize a car or multiple cars or a minibus for us all to fit. Now I’m her freaking secretary.

  “I’ll talk to Jolie in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Jax.”

  I turn to her, stunned. Walk away, asshole.

  “Wait, that almost sounded like a compliment,” I muse. “Can you say it again just so I don’t think I misheard you?”

  I try not to notice the sheer silky material of her dress and the very low back; it shows off her tan and more of her skin than is probably necessary.

  “I am capable of being nice, you know, sometimes.”

  I smirk. “Thank God for tequila, that’s all I can say.”

  “Very funny.”

  She lingers at her door, her eyes assess me and my throat goes dry. She’s totally checking me out. That truth serum brings this out in her. I like how she reacts to my face, my body, but that’s all it is, a nice face, a taut body, I’m still that same guy inside. I still have the same fears, insecurities, and troubles as anyone else. Some things scar you for life and I realize now that Morgan James isn’t one of them, she’s the light, she’s always been the light.

  “Goodnight, MJ.”

  I swipe the card on my door.

  “Goodnight, D.B.”

  I roll my eyes; my hand pushes the door open.

  “Go inside,” I add.

  “So bossy,” she mutters.

  I turn to look at her but she’s already closing the door in my face.

  Fuck my life.

  Seriously.

  20

  Jaxon

  A shrill scream wakes me from a rather pleasant slumber. I jerk to a sitting position and reach for my holster on the side table. I jump out of bed and listen again, my heart thudding in my chest.

  I hear it again.

  Morgan.

  I rush to the interconnecting door and open it, pointing my gun, expecting the worst. What I see puzzles me.

  I do a quick check of her entire suite and there’s nobody here, it seems she’s having a nightmare and now I have to wake her up.

  I come back into the room and she thrashes around, murmuring, she looks as if she’s in pain.

  I place my gun on the side table and lean over the bed to shake her awake.

  “Morgan,” I start gently, not wanting to frighten her. “Morgan, wake up.”

  Her eyes fly open and she grips the sheets with her fists.

  “No!” she cries; her eyes wide and frightened. “No, stop, I said no, please stop it!”

  I stare at her confused, then her hands come up to fight me and I grab her by the wrists realizing she’s not coherent or fully awake from whatever this is.

  “It’s me,” I say, gently shaking her. “MJ, it’s me, Jaxon.”

  After a few seconds of struggling, some kind of recognition comes over her and she stops fighting me. She’s got tears running down her face as she looks at me confused.

  “Jax?” she says, out of breath. “What are you doing here?”

  I keep hold of her wrists in case she tries to karate chop me.

  “Avenging your murder, or so I thought, you just about screamed the hotel down.”

  She shrugs out of my grasp and I set her free.

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “I’m sorry, Jax… sorry for waking you up, I must have been having a nightmare, I get them from time to time, usually when I’m in an unfamiliar place.”

  I stare at her then we both look down at the same time. She’s come out of her camisole top; she quickly adjusts her breasts back into place and looks back up at me.

  Holy fuck. I see she’s wearing that little La Perla short and camisole peach set she bought last week. My dick kicks in my boxers and it’s then she drags her eyes all the way up my body until her gaze reaches my face.

  “Sorry about that,” she mutters eventually.

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” I reply. Her breasts are the biggest prick tease in the universe and now she knows that too. “You’re okay then?”

  I really need to go back to my room…

  “You… you’re…”

  I give her a pointed look, perching on the side of her bed. Spit it out, princess.

  “I’m what?”

  She bites her lip and then wipes her eyes with the back of her hands.

  “Nothing. Sorry for waking you up.”

  “Morgan,” I warn. “What were you going to say?”

  She gathers the sheets and pulls them up to her chest to hug herself. Like that will help, she’s already flashed me and I’m sporting a bi
g, fat hard-on now. I’m so glad it’s dark and she can’t see what I have going on.

  “I was going to say you’re…” She takes a sudden breath like this is hard for her and I truly have no idea what she’s going to say. “You’re kind of… beautiful.”

  I stare at her in the dark. She shouldn’t say those things to me. Nothing about me is beautiful.

  “Clearly you had too many cocktails tonight,” I mutter, going to stand.

  She reaches out and grabs my wrist. “I mean it,” she says. “You are, you really turned yourself around, Jax, made something of yourself, you showed everyone.”

  I don’t know how I feel about her praise.

  “Was I so bad before?” I reply darkly, though we both know the truth, I was. I worked hard to get myself looking like this, getting fit and healthy and even harder to get my mindset into first gear, but I did it for me, I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.

  I watch as she unfathomably traces the tribal tattoo on my left pec with her fingertip. Her touch is so soft and sensual, I close my eyes and try to fight the demons in me that tell me to take her.

  “No,” she whispers.

  I laugh. “Now I know you’re lying.”

  “What did you do?” she asks as I watch her finger move around the pattern on my tribal ink. “To transform your body like that?”

  I don’t like talking about this but I decide I’ll indulge her a little.

  “I worked out a lot for a year, almost two, full-on, plus I wanted to get into the military training program, but I wasn’t happy even when I lost the weight,” I tell her. It’s hard to imagine the fat slob I once was. I cringe at the thought and all it provokes.

  “Why not?”

  I swallow hard. I look away from her as she continues her onslaught.

  I sigh. “I had a lot of excess… skin… to deal with after.”

  I expect her to be horrified, well, it was horrific, having that much skin that won’t go away and having to have surgery, it was the best thing I ever did but it was a painful part of my life. Something I wish to forget.

  “My God, Jaxon, did you have surgery?” she notices my scars at my naval and I hope to God she doesn’t try to touch them.