by Jen Davis
He looked at it like it might bite him. “You want my phone number?” he echoed.
“Yes. Unless I need to stalk you on your worksite again, the next time I want to hear your voice.”
He added his contact and slid the phone back to her. She picked it up and called him on the spot. She let it ring once, then disconnected. “Now you have mine too.” She waved the waitress over. “We’re ready for the check, please.”
Brick pulled his phone out of his back pocket and stared at the missed call, then back at her. “You want me…to call you.”
“I want you to call me.”
The waitress set the check on the table, and Liv reached for it, but Brick’s hand shot out like a viper, grabbing it first. “You never pay with me.” He stood and pulled some cash out of his wallet. “Not now. Not ever.”
He reached out his hand and helped her to her feet. She warmed at the possibility there might be a next time, but she said nothing. For once with this guy, she wasn’t going to push her luck.
Neither of them spoke on the short drive back to her place, but like before, Brick got out to walk her to her door. She didn’t give him the chance to bolt. Instead, she stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Slowly, gently, he returned her embrace.
It was heaven.
“Thank you for tonight. I needed this.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”
Resisting the urge to go for his lips again, she pulled back. It was one thing to make the first move; it was another to make them all. Skittish or not, the ball was in his court.
She unlocked the front door, flirting gently over her shoulder. “You thanking me for making your dreams come true again?”
He tipped his head and turned back to the truck. “Dreams I didn’t even know I had.”
***
Brick
Brick fought the urge to glance back at Olivia as he walked away. He didn’t even let himself think about her during the drive home. He had to stay vigilant. Aware.
Thank God he didn’t have any jobs lined up from Sucre. He didn’t want anything to taint this perfect, precious night.
The security check at his apartment came up clean. No one had disturbed his home or his money. He took the napkin he’d swiped from the Majestic out of his pocket and placed it on his nightstand, smoothing out the wrinkles. Carefully, he removed the drawer with the false bottom and added the memento next to the toy car and his only photo of him with his grandma. It was the first thing he’d added to his small collection of treasures in years.
After setting everything back to rights, he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat on his old, comfortable recliner.
Now.
Now he could think about her.
When he’d seen the angry bruise bleeding through her make-up, his first thought was someone in Sucre’s crew had found her. Someone was trying to get to him through her.
And in a fraction of a second, he determined that person was going to die.
Thank God he’d been wrong. Her explanation about her sister made perfect sense, but he’d needed the ride to her house to get his shit together. Adrenaline pumping so hard doesn’t just disappear.
He needed to do something. Something to keep anyone from hurting her ever again. Hardly a day went by where he didn’t use his fists to pound the fuck out of something. He should be able to use his one fucking skill to help her, to teach her how to protect herself.
But Olivia had other ideas, didn’t she?
His breath caught at the memory of her kiss, and his dick hardened all over again. The fucking thing stood at attention from the moment she put her hands on him. It was a goddamn miracle she didn’t seem to notice.
So many times, he’d told himself to stay away from her. She wasn’t for him. The promise of her kiss was all it took to blow his resolve to shit. He could still smell the hint of her vanilla scent lingering on his clothes, on his hands, his skin. For the life of him, he couldn’t regret how anything played out tonight, even if he’d made a fool of himself trying to be a decent role model to some strange kid.
She was so soft, and the way she looked at him…no one had ever looked at him the way she did before—like he was worth something. Not the protection he could provide or the street cred he could give. Not even the connection he had to Sucre and his money and his drugs.
Just him.
Just Brick.
Jonathan.
He hadn’t thought of himself as Jonathan since he was a kid. The name, it almost hurt to own it. No one had used it in fifteen years. Not even his grandma. Only his mother, and she died a long time ago.
Olivia was an orphan too. Even if she’d lost a very different kind of family than he had, she had suffered.
He was grateful she’d had Will. It didn’t matter if the guy wanted to keep him away from her. More than anything, it proved the man cared about his sister. To make sure she had a home, to help her grow up and be successful, when he was barely more than a kid himself…plenty of adults couldn’t pull off such a thing, his own parents included.
His gaze drifted to his phone. He could call her. Hear her voice whenever he wanted to. The idea was heady.
He pictured her bright blue eyes. How they focused on his mouth. How they broadcast her desire.
His heart sped up and his cock twitched in his pants, demanding satisfaction. Why fight it? He had nowhere to be.
He stripped off his clothes and dropped them on the floor in his wake as he moved toward the bathroom. Even if he didn’t have hot water, a lukewarm shower would still do the trick. Stepping naked into the spray, his cock grew painful, as his body anticipated the relief it knew would come soon.
He lathered the soap in his hand, until he covered his palm in a thick foam. Only then did he wrap his fingers around his shaft and squeeze from base to tip.
He closed his eyes and focused on the faint remnants of vanilla he could still tease out on his skin. In his fantasy, he had her with him, her body bared, wet, and willing. Faster and faster, his hand moved. Harder and harder, he pulled, agony and ecstasy blending together as he approached his release.
Her name was on his lips, and the memory of her taste, in his mouth, as he finally came with a shuddering curse.
After tonight, he realized he would never be satisfied until he knew how it felt to be inside her. To touch every part of her, body and soul, until she belonged to him.
Forever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brick
Brick couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he pulled up to the Decatur site. The plumbers were working on the Burgundy Street house today, which meant he’d only be in the way there, but he could still do a lot to help the team here.
Kane raised his eyebrow as he settled in next to him in the space they would eventually turn into a garage. “Have a good night last night?”
He ignored the tease and rifled through the toolbox.
“I saw you leave with Will’s sister. I thought you said nothing was happening there, brother.”
Shit. He hadn’t considered whether Kane or Matt might have seen Olivia at the site yesterday. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her reputation or for word of their meeting to get back to her brother. “I meant it,” he sighed, “but she knows what she wants, and it’s really fucking hard to tell her no.”
Today Kane had his dark hair in a low ponytail with a black bandana tied across the top of his head. Tugging at the fabric, he considered Brick’s words. “It’s only hard to tell her no because you don’t want to. So, if she wants it and you want it, why are you fighting it? Will? Cause if you can make his sister happy, I think he could learn to live with it.”
“It’s not only about how Will feels. I wish he was just an overprotective brother who thinks I’m not good enough for his sister. The problem is, he’s right. You know the kind of shit I’m involved with. Olivia’s probably never even heard of Sucre de la Cruz, and I’m glad. I want her as far away from his cess
pool of an existence as humanly possible. As long as she’s around me, she’s linked to it.”
He rubbed at his eyes. The pressure building behind them sent sharp spikes into his brain. Saying this shit aloud made it real all over again. “All it takes is one fucking junkie to find out about her, and he’ll use her to get to me or—even worse—Sucre could find out. He’d break her to remind me who’s king. She hasn’t lived like us. She’d never recover.”
Kane dropped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re talking some harsh shit, brother. Can’t you get out? I mean, don’t you want to get out?”
A dull laugh escaped his mouth. “You know, no one’s ever asked me what I want before.”
Kane shrugged. “People see what makes sense to them. They see a big guy like you, a killer, they don’t understand how someone could trap you. You’re the monster because you look like one.” Gesturing to himself, Kane swept his hands down his body. “I get it. I also get what it’s like to feel trapped by a certain kind of life. It’s why we both come here and do this, am I right?”
He nodded sharply.
“Do you think you can stay away from her?”
“Truth?” He exhaled slowly. “No. I can’t.”
Kane spoke over the noise as he started hammering his two-by-four again. “Then you need to figure out how to keep your two worlds apart. Because you’re right. She’ll be your weak spot. The first person who finds it will destroy her. And you.”
***
Kane’s words still rattled around in Brick’s head as he hit the street with Tre hours later.
He stole a peek at his trainee. Tre wore a bright red leather jacket, and it looked even shinier next to his dark skin. Most guys in this line of work dressed in black. They’d blend into the night, so their prey would never see them coming.
Tre was a different breed of predator. He wanted them to see him coming. He fed on the fear.
He held back a shudder as he imagined what someone like Tre would do with the knowledge of Olivia. He’d rape her, no doubt. Even worse, he’d hurt her as much as possible. He wouldn’t kill her, though, at least not right away. Tre would find a quick death too merciful. He’d squeeze out as much pain as possible…to show Brick he could, but also because he’d fucking enjoy it.
Tre could never, ever know Olivia existed.
Unaware of his scrutiny, the kid scoped out Bennie’s duplex. Their mark lived on the right side of the shotgun house.
As far as he knew, the other side sat empty. A weak light cast shadows against the thin curtains on Bennie’s half of the house. The vague shapes of several men moved behind it, including the stocky frame of their Mexican target.
“How many of ’em do you think we can take?”
“Think smart, Tre. There’s no need to walk into a free-for-all. We wait. We watch. It might mean we end up coming back tomorrow. It could be an ambush. When you work for Sucre, you’re always going to have some dumb assholes plotting to get the better of you. Being stronger than them’s not good enough. You’ve got to be smarter too.”
Tre kicked a rock on the crumbling concrete at the curb. “So, he gets away with not paying because he invited his friends over? What kind of pussy are you?”
He growled and slapped the smaller man across the face. “You are reaching the end of my fucking patience.”
The kid backed down, but the hate in his glare was unmistakable. “All I mean is, what kind of message are we sending by giving him a pass?”
“We’re not giving him a pass. Sometimes you have to be a spider instead of a grizzly bear. One kills with cunning and the other, brute force. The outcome is the same. You have to think about which approach will serve you better.”
Tre nodded, but it was obvious he only wanted to be the grizzly.
They didn’t have to wait long. About thirty minutes later, half a dozen men filed out the door and down the steps on the porch. They piled into an old blue Delta 88. Bennie was among them.
Brick and Tre followed at a discreet distance as they drove to a dive bar down the street.
Bennie made a mistake in choosing his destination. Brick knew the guy who owned the place, and after a quick phone call, he and Tre slipped in the back door.
“So why is it okay to go after Bennie now when it wasn’t before? He still has his crew with him.” Tre’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard.
How many times had he learned lessons the hard way? Tre had no idea how lucky he was to have someone show him the ropes. “The difference is now we can see what we’re dealing with. In the apartment, there were too many unknowns. Now we know how many men he’s got with him. We can see where they are, and the only place they’ll be watching for us is the front door.”
Proving his point, one of Bennie’s guys headed their way, wandering alone to the bathroom. Even in such a small space, the guy had to weave through two dozen people to make his way back.
Brick grabbed him from behind and covered his mouth before he could make a sound. “You looking for trouble from me?” He used his stone-cold-killer voice.
The thin man shook his head emphatically.
“Hand my associate your phone and I’ll let you wait this out in the storage room. Do something stupid, and I’ll break something you’re attached to.”
The man’s hands shook as he handed his phone to Tre.
“Pat him down for a weapon.”
Tre did as Brick commanded and came up with a switchblade the size of his hand. Grinning, Tre shoved the knife into the pocket of his jacket. “You carrying anything else?” he sneered.
Again, the man shook his head, more frantically than ever.
He let the guy go. “In the closet. This shit goes south, I’ll kill you first.”
“Won’t his friends come looking for him?” Tre lived to challenge him.
Rolling his eyes, he shrugged. “Maybe. Or they might think he bailed. If anyone gets curious, they’ll come alone, and they’ll end up in the closet too.”
Sure enough, it happened twice more, which left Bennie with only two buddies next to him at the bar. Good enough odds for Brick to make his move. Judging by the expression on Bennie’s face, he’d already reached the same conclusion on his own.
One of the guys with him flat out ran away as he stepped into the open. Bennie’s other friend stood his ground, trying to seem tough. He failed.
Brick stared down the man with a diamond earring and fat dreds standing next to his quarry. “Is this the ditch you wanna die in?”
Blinking rapidly, the guy didn’t even glance at Bennie before hightailing it out the front door.
Bennie dropped to his knees. Sweat dotted the skin above his quivering lip. “I was about to come see you, Brick, I swear.”
“Don’t talk to me, Bennie. Talk to Tre.”
As Bennie turned to plead his case, Tre didn’t wait for any words. He lifted his knee and kicked him square in the face. Then, when Bennie tried to roll up into a ball, Tre kicked him over and over and over again. “You think you can run from me, motherfucker?” Kick. “You think you can hide behind your friends?” Kick. “You spread the message Tre Lowry don’t play.”
Bennie whimpered at the brutal kick Tre delivered next but then fell silent and still. So did everyone else in the bar. They waited and watched to see what Tre would do next. So did Brick.
Tre was a loose cannon, as likely to kill Bennie as ask about the money he owed. At some point, though, the guy had to show what he was made of. Brick couldn’t keep reminding him what was important.
With his shiny red leather coat, Tre was the loudest thing in the dark, dank room—the star of the show—and he wasn’t finished with his performance. With the showmanship of a circus ringmaster, he unbuckled his pants and whipped out his dick.
Then pissed all over poor Bennie.
The guy lay there, soaked in blood and urine. Brick couldn’t tell if the poor bastard was dead or alive.
Tre didn’t seem to care. He swung around to face the crowd, cock still i
n hand. “Anybody else want a piece of this?”
Nobody said a word.
Stuffing his junk back into his pants, Tre puffed up like a proud peacock. “I didn’t think so.” He pulled out the switchblade he’d pocketed earlier and sliced off Bennie’s index finger. He shoved it in his jacket pocket before strutting out the front door.
The last thing Brick wanted to do was stick his hands in Tre’s piss.
No. The last thing he wanted to do was to face Sucre not knowing whether Bennie was dead or alive.
He reached down and checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one. Then he dug out Bennie’s wallet from his damp jacket, removed the forty dollars nestled inside, and dropped the fake leather on the dead man’s chest.
Shit. His thoughts about Olivia had consumed him so much tonight, he’d forgotten his backpack. “I’m going to need a tarp.”
The bartender cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh, got one in the bed of my truck.”
“Get it. When I’m gone, you can let the guys locked in your storage room out. I’ve got no beef with them, but I don’t think they’ll take this very well.”
It took him ten minutes to roll Bennie in the heavy plastic and toss his body in the back of his pickup. He drove straight to El Cabron, where Tre strutted around the bar like king of the fucking world.
“Took you long enough, man. Didn’t think you wanted me to go see Sucre without you, but you know how the man hates to be kept waiting.” Tre chuckled low and rubbed his tongue across his bottom lip.
Dumb fuck had no idea what he was in for.
He followed the kid silently to Sucre’s throne, took his traditional seat, and waited for Tre to dig himself in deeper.
Tonight, Sucre wore a deep amber suit. He brushed at his lapel as Tre stood in front of him, practically bouncing on his feet. “I take it you had a successful evening, Tre?”
“Fucking A. Bennie thought he could get the drop on me. Set up a fucking ambush at his place, but I didn’t fall for it. Nope. Tracked him and his hombres to some dive bar. Picked his guys off one by one, and shazam.” He clapped his hands together. “Easy pickings.”