“Yes, Roxie,” Eddie moans on a growl when the sinfulness of what I’m doing unexpectedly slams into me. He’s barely touching me, but I swan dive over a cliff, shuddering, moaning, and coming wholly undone. I’ve always been a little edgier than my friends. I don’t shy away when challenged and am willing to give anything a try once, but this, this is new even for someone with as little morals as me. “Give me the sweet nectar of your loins.”
I cringe through the remainder of my climax instead of relishing it.
Sweet nectar of my loins? Who says that?
I’m not the only one shocked by Eddie’s lack of class. I can’t hear the stranger’s laughter, but I most certainly can see it. His chest is rising and falling as rapidly as mine. He isn’t sucking in much-needed breaths like me, though. He’s struggling to hold in the laughter rumbling in his chest—laughter he loses the ability to harness when a security guard arrives out of nowhere.
“Hey, you, you can’t do that there!”
When the guard sprints down the alleyway, Eddie dumps me onto my feet so quickly, my backside is subjected to a nasty graze compliments to the brickwork he had me hoisted against. I’m horrified for the second time in under three seconds when he pivots on his heels and darts in the direction opposite the one the guard is coming from, leaving me defenseless to the angry, weapon-wielding man.
I just climaxed. I can’t run, and I’m not going to mention how my legs can’t pump in the stupid boots I bought specifically to woo him. Furthermore, the security officer isn’t a standard old overweight, balding man. He’s so fit-looking, he’d be able to chase me down even if I hadn’t orgasmed.
“Eddie, come back!”
When he continues hightailing it, I realize it’s me against the world—as it always is. My wit is the only currency I have, and its rarity doesn’t make it priceless.
After flashing a quick glance to the stranger, I dash in the direction Eddie went. I’m on a scholarship to college. If I get arrested, my plans will go up in smoke like this godforsaken shithole did a decade ago. The community was supposed to rebuild. Instead, half the townsfolks packed up and left, leaving nothing but a wasteland of desecration.
I’m partway down the alleyway when the bang of a gun booms into my ears. While freezing like a statue, I survey the area. The guard’s boots no longer thud against the road surface. I can’t even hear his frantic breaths. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was the only person in the alleyway.
With my heart in my throat, I crank my neck back to add images to the theories running through my hazy head. The euphoria pumping through me seconds ago shifts to despair when I spot the security officer slumped on the ground. Blood is seeping through the back of his uniform, and his arms are pinned beneath him like he was struck down midstride.
When I stray my eyes to the end of the alleyway, my heart thumps out a jazzy melody. My wide-with-terror eyes make the dark-haired stranger hard to see, but I don’t need 20/20 vision to recognize the black object in his hand. He has a gun, and its barrel is pointed my way.
I blink several times in a row when the bang of a gun being fired for the second time ricochets down the alleyway. While my stomach braces for impact, my pathetically-short life flashes before my eyes. The video montage is over in less than two seconds, but disappointed is the only pain I’m experiencing. Even with the cruel sound of a bullet shredding through a hard surface echoing in my ears, I somehow remain uninjured.
Certain my mind is playing tricks on me, I pivot around to investigate where the crunching sound originated from. I grow untrusting of my legs to keep me upright when I take in remnants of a security camera hanging messily from the corner of a Publix supermarket chain. Its exposed wires reveal it’s a hardwired device, however it won’t be recording anything but brickwork right now.
Although lost on what the hell is happening, I can’t help but shift my focus back to the unnamed man at the end of the alley. I should be in fear for my life, but for some reason, I’m not. He gunned down a guard for me, I’m certain of it.
My lungs take stock of their oxygen levels when he winks at me as I anticipated earlier before he spins on his heels and enters an idling stretch limousine, leaving me alone with a dead man and no alibi.
Crap.
Chapter Three
Dimitri
Smith’s dark eyes lift to mine when I slide into the back seat of our shared limousine. “Remove all footage from before the guard commenced undoing his belt.”
Smith is my tech guy. If I want something permanently deleted from the World Wide Web, he gets it done within minutes. I want this deleted. I don’t give a fuck someone may view the footage and think I’m a perverted bastard who gets his rocks off watching a teen get fingered in an alleyway. I’m more worried I showed weakness by gunning down a man because he liked what he saw as much as me.
The security officer wasn’t approaching the blonde to make a citizen’s arrest for performing a lewd act in a public place. He wanted in on the action, and from the way he grabbed at his belt while sprinting after her, he was going to join in even if she said no.
I hate fuckers like that.
The Petrettis have been meddling in the prostitution conglomerate for as long as I’ve been born, so you can trust me when I say not all hookers cater for high-end johns. Some are willing to break a twenty depending on what you’re seeking. You don’t need to force a girl to do a sex act on you if you’re down on your luck. Go see my father, he’ll negotiate with a homeless man if it benefits him in some way.
Smith jerks up his chin, understanding where I’m going before he pulls his laptop out of his bag. He’s never without a bunch of equipment. It’s as vital to him as the blood in his veins. “And the girl?”
I drag the towel Rocco, my number two, handed me over my wet head before replying, “Listen for chatter. If they don’t rule this as self-defense, I’ll put other measures in play.”
Rocco twists his lips, shocked. Usually, I don’t give a fuck about anyone but myself. This time around is different. Not only am I forging ahead with plans to get my daughter back sooner rather than later, but I’m also the hardest I’ve ever been. It wasn’t watching what the punk-faced weasel did to the blonde that caused my cock to press against the zipper in my trousers, it was the way she stared at me while he touched her.
It takes a lot of gall to get off when the person you’re fantasizing about isn’t touching you. Imagine how quick she’ll explode if I were to touch her? The thought should disgust me. I was only in the rain chasing the ghost of my wife, but for some reason, it doesn’t. What can I say? I was raised by a mongrel of a man. Mental stability isn’t my favorable trait, and neither is chivalry—usually.
“And you?” Smith asks, shocked I left myself out of the equation. That’s as rare as my father doing something ethical because it would do more good than harm.
“I doubt the footage of me is more than a blur of black.” I know this as I strained my eyes while striving to take in the blonde’s features. “If it’s more, let them have it. The Feds haven’t done me any favors the past nine months, so I’m not inclined to cooperate with them either.”