Ferdi could not be put off so easily. He played an integral role in the running of my business, and he needed to know what was happening. When his name flashed across the phone screen, I answered, as he knew I would.
“You better have a damn good reason why your father pulled me off the job early and ordered my ass back to Virginia, Darragh. You know how much I hate loose ends, asshole. You’ve been avoiding him, not taking his calls, and now it’s my ass that’s on the fire pit.”
“Well, good morning to you too, Ferdi. Make this quick. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
“The fuck, Darragh? Did you not just hear me? Your father is fucking pissed.”
“Its business,” I snapped, miffed at his tone. “I’ll get back to him in a few days once that’s concluded and I’m satisfied with the results. He’ll just have to wait until then, so back the fuck off my dick, Ferdi. You sound like a bitch that won’t leave after a one-night stand.”
My father’s interference wasn’t warranted or needed. I ran this motherfucker, not him. Ferdi got quiet on the other end of the line, and I knew I’d struck a nerve. Zero fucks were given though. His so-called feelings meant shit to me if he couldn’t ride shotgun.
“I should be back in the States day after tomorrow. You got somebody on you you can trust till then?” he finally replied. Whatever he was working on must have been important enough for him to lose his shit over.
“Yeah. Me,” was all I shared. “Where the fuck are you, anyway?”
“Cartagena.” He sighed wearily. “The land of warm tequila, sweaty balls, and crooked cops. See you soon, Cochise. Try and stay out of trouble till I get there.”
The call clicked off and Ferdi was gone. He offered no more information concerning his whereabouts or the details of the assignment. That wasn’t new. We had an unwritten rule never to discuss the intricacies of my business with my father, and vice versa. I didn’t need him knowing my shit any more than I wanted to know his. My family operated in secrecy and often avoided drawing public attention and scrutiny as much as possible. The bottom line was all that mattered, the dollars and cents I made towards our family fortune. The antagonism my father felt towards me would burgeon into something else once the match was over, I was sure of it.
In less than two days’ time, the name Darragh MacCabe would be synonymous with money and power. I’d own the underground fight circuit, and its minions would answer to me and me alone. It was a lot to pin my hopes and dreams on a man I didn’t know, but as long as I held on to the blond waitress, he wouldn’t let me down. He’d fight to the death in order to save her. With her beauty, I could see why. We were cut from the same cloth with an appreciation for delicate things and the ease in which we could break them. I imagine he learned that from Buck Calhoun, the same as I did with my father. It really would be a shame if he didn’t hold up to his end of the bargain.
I checked on Sleeping Beauty through the monitor once more and did something I hadn’t done in a very long time. I laughed.
It was genuine and so unexpected.
I caught myself mid-smirk.
There she was, still in that damn uniform, pressed against the wall holding the bedside lamp. She had no idea that the room was set up with cameras enabling me to watch her every move. She practiced bashing me over the head with it, getting a feel for the weight and wrapping the cord around her wrist so it wouldn’t get in the way. The first swing was from the top, held high at the base, with the shade still attached. The look in her eyes as she concentrated on just the right amount of force was downright hilarious. She even stood over the spot on the floor and pointed as if to say, “There, take that, asshole.” Something about the shade didn’t sit well with her, so she removed it and tried again. This time, she swung from the right side in a batter’s stance. She even choked up on the handle. Equally as funny to watch.
Useless in its actual execution.
I laughed again.
Otelia wanted my head on a pike and my balls in a sling. As much as I wanted to put off this little confrontation until I at least had one cup of coffee, I knew I had to deal with this pathetic display before things got out of hand. I made as much noise as possible so she knew I was coming, jingling keys, coughing to clear my throat, shuffling my feet, anything just short of announcing, “Here I come, ready or not.” The second I stepped inside, she went for it, using the overhead method. On the downswing, I hooked her arm holding the lamp behind my back and grabbed her securely around the neck with my free hand, not enough to choke her, but enough to hold her in place. Her breath left in a whoosh of surprise; her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she caught my sinister stare. The more she tried to wiggle out of my grasp, the harder I squeezed, restricting her airways so she knew I meant business.
“Tsk, tsk, Otelia. What did I say about going along, hmm?” I sneered inches from her face. “Did you really think you could pull this shit with me, woman? Shoulda stuck with trying to scratch my eyes out, kitty cat. This was just plain stupid and ill advised. Now, what am I going to do with you?”
I saw a flash of fear in her eyes, a spark of unease. My cock hardened behind my silk sleeping pants, but she still wasn’t where I needed her to be.
“Let me go, you bastard, or I swear to God I’ll scream,” she threatened.
“Scream?” I growled, pulling her closer. “Now, that’s something I’d like to hear.”
I grabbed the arm still holding the lamp and twisted it around her back until she dropped it to the ground. I knew the higher I lifted her palm, the more pain it would cause, but I needed her ass moving in the direction I wanted her to go. I pushed her backwards until her knees hit the edge of the mattress, spun her back to my front, secured both her wrists, and nudged her forward with my hips until she was sprawled out flat on the bed on her stomach. The weight of my body kept her in place as she flailed helplessly beneath me.
“Let me go!” she yelled. “I fucking hate you!”
“Like hell, woman.” I leaned in and took her earlobe between my teeth. “My dick is in its happy place.” I swiveled my hips to show her what I meant. “No way am I giving that up. If you close your mouth and open your ears, you can hear it crying for you. A sad melody of repression and desire it’s never had to sing before. I never deny my dick what it wants, Otelia.”
Otelia stopped squirming once she realized the awkward position we’d landed in, my cock perfectly aligned with the crack of her ass, seeking entrance. Great fuck, that felt like heaven. The only thing that would’ve made it better was if we were both naked. I liked that idea a lot, and judging by the way her lips parted and her breaths deepened, I’d say she liked it too. The tingle at the base of my ball sack was a quick reminder that her being here wasn’t a fucking tryst and she needed to fall her ass in line if she wanted to live.
“You’re disgusting. When I get my hands on you, I swear…”
“You swear WHAT?” I hissed. “I fucking own you, woman. For the next thirty-six or so hours, your tight little ass belongs to me. Get that shit through your fucking head. I alone determine if you live or die, and right now, I’m thinking it would be a lot less trouble to put a bullet in your fucking head than to deal with your silly-ass stunts.”