Authors: Ava May
WARNING: This eBook contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This eBook is for sale to adults ONLY
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© Copyright 2016 by Ava May - All rights reserved.
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A Wifey for the Bad Boy
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Samantha stepped out of her car with a suspicious look around. The neighborhood that she’d pulled up to certainly seemed safe enough, and she had to admit, if the playground parks that she’d driven by were anything to go by, it was one of the cleanest in the city. Still, the towering brick building that her brother’s instructions had led her to definitely ruined the image. Not only was there an odd dogpile of motorcycles sitting just outside of it, but there were also two smokers, squatting and laughing right in front of the entrance.
Sighing to herself, Samantha closed the door of her lime green bug and stepped up onto the sidewalk. Her black heels clicked against the pavement, and as she marched towards the smell of smoke, she had to remind herself why she was there in the first place to keep her feet moving.
“Please!” James, her younger brother, had come begging to her for help just the day before. It was the first time that she’d seen him in months, and though she’d frowned at his shaven head and leather jacket, she’d ushered him into her apartment without hesitation.
“What happened? James?” she’d asked, crouching next to where he’d collapsed onto the floor.
“They’re going to kill me,” James had whined in the back of his throat, his brown eyes filling up with tears. “Sis, please.” Apparently, he’d gotten himself into trouble again.
And, like an idiot, Samantha had thought that she could get him out of it like she always did.
“Please, what?” she’d asked. “How can I help?”
James had only been too happy to tell her. Which was why she was approaching a building rumored to have a biker gang holed up inside of it, with two thousand dollars cash in her pocket.
The smokers stood up as she approached, and she swallowed around the lump in her throat as she forced a smile. “H-hello,” she said as warmly as possible. “I’m here on behalf James. Uh, James Smith.”
Putting out his cigarette, the man with a blue mohawk shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather vest and chuckled. “We get a lot of Smith’s,” he said snidely. “Sorry if an old name like James doesn’t really ring a bell, either.”
“Uh,” she said nervously. She contemplated just turning on her heel and leaving, especially if they hadn’t been expecting her like James had said they were. And who knows? She could’ve come to the wrong place entirely.
“Nah,” the other man, a tall lanky guy with a shaved head and tattooed neck, said. “She’s talking about the Smith kid who took a joyride. The one who owes boss two grand?”
“Oh,” Blue Mohawk snapped his fingers. “Ohhhh, yeah. You must be the sister. Yeah, boss has been expecting you.”
“Great,” Samantha smiled, relieved, though her heart was still going a mile a minute. “If you could just tell me what floor—”
“Oh no, sweetheart,” the tall one shook his head softly, a sympathetic grin on his lips. “No one goes in without an escort. Come on,” he took one last drag of his smoke and flicked it into the road. “I’ll take you.”
“No fair!” Mohawk shouted.
“Hey, you couldn’t even remember that the boss was waiting for her,” he shrugged, wrapping an arm around Samantha’s tense shoulders. “Guard the door, will you?” he laughed, leading her inside.
Samantha had never been so uncomfortable in all of her life. The guy touching her smelled like motor oil, and she had half a mind to pull out of his grip. It didn’t help that she’d decided to wear one of her best dress suits, opting for a professional and intimidating look rather than an unkempt and easily impressionable one.
“Right here, sweetheart,” the man turned them towards an elevator. Another man who was also clad in leather waved from where he was slouched up against the wall, and her escort returned the gesture with a smile. Well, at least the grunts were happy. Maybe the boss wouldn’t be so bad?
“Where to?” the new man, an older biker with a rounded stomach, asked calmly.
“Fifth floor,” the tall guy answered. “We’re up to see the boss.”
“Oh,” he said, looking Samantha up and down. “Is that a new one?”
“New one?” Samantha repeated.
But the tall man just laughed. “Nah, she ain’t a call girl,” he shook his head. Samantha ducked hers, her blush burning her cheeks.
“Ah,” the old man agreed like he understood, the elevator dinging as it opened up beside him.
“See ya, Earl,” the tall man called, directing Samantha into the dimly lit elevator. As the doors closed and the whole thing lurched, she heard the oddest tune of a quick piano. It reminded her of a hurried funeral march.
With a bang and a shudder, the music cut off and the doors groaned open, revealing a carpeted room with a few empty desks shoved up against the walls.
Samantha turned towards the voice, and sure enough, another biker was resting against the wall, a toothpick in his mouth as he uncrossed his arms.
“Oh, hey Bill,” her escort said. “Boss in? I’ve got the Smith girl.”
“He had a call earlier,” Bill said, kicking off of the wall to lead them towards the giant set of double oak doors directly ahead. “Probably finished by now, though. Hey, Boss?” he called, knocking.
“Enter,” a sharp voice answered, and Samantha felt her heart skip a beat. She had a very bad feeling about this, and she found that she suddenly wanted to change her mind; to say, “Never mind,” and leave. But she couldn’t, not if she didn’t want to let James down, and so she stayed silent and still as Bill turned the brass handle and pushed open the doors.
A dark figure sitting in shadows was resting behind a large ornate desk, but she could still make out the blue of his eyes piercing through the darkness. As Dan pulled her further inside and Bill stayed behind, closing the doors after them, Samantha couldn’t help the sudden gulp that she forced down her dry throat.
“The Smith girl, sir,” Dan said, finally releasing the hold that he had on Samantha’s shoulders. She shivered at the loss of his touch, and as the man behind the desk stood up, she found that she’d never felt more alone. He was taller than Dan, she saw, and far more broad.
“Thank you, Dan,” he said coolly. “Miss Smith and I have much to discuss, so if you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing to the door.
“Of course,” Dan nodded, and it was only another second before the door clicked open and closed behind him.
“Um,” Samantha cleared her throat, trying to take some control of the situation. “My brother, he said—”
“Your brother,” the man nodded, his tone plummeting as he spoke, “Has caused my organization nothing but trouble. I hope that your presence will not bring about the same result.” When Samantha just stared at him, her brown eyes wide, he sighed, and said, “Please. Sit.”
She took a seat in the plush chair facing his desk, her hands shaking as she gripped the edges of her seat. “He’s caused trouble?” she asked quietly. She knew that he must have, for him to have shown up at her door in hysterics like that. Still, she wanted to hear his crimes from the man he’d apparently wronged.
“Mhm,” the man hummed, retaking his own seat. “Not only did James steal from me, but he pawned a brother’s bike. Both are transgressions that I could have easily punish him for, but,” he paused, folding his hands on top of his desk. “Then he mentioned you.”
“Y-yes,” Samantha nodded, popping open her purse. “I’ve brought the money that he owes—”
“Oh, my dear,” he smiled politely, shaking his head. “This isn’t about the money.”
That made Samantha freeze. “But,” she said, her hand on her wallet. “He said—”
“James says a great many things,” the man sighed. “He swore an oath when we took him in, but he has since proven that those were just words to him, nothing more.” Leaning back, his leather chair creaked, and he said, “Though, I am surprised that you showed up. I’d thought that you were just another false promise.”
Samantha frowned. “I don’t understand,” she said. “He said that you’d excuse his debts if he paid you back, but now you’re saying that it isn’t about the money. Did you lie, because you thought that he was lying?” she asked.
“Nothing quite so complicated,” he smiled. “I told him that he would need to pay me back, yes. But the two thousand that he assured me you would bring only covers the money that he stole from me. The custom bike that he pawned, however – well, that’s another twelve thousand.”
Samantha dropped her wallet back into her purse. She didn’t have that kind of money. “I,” she said, covering her mouth with a shaky hand. “He didn’t—”
“Yes,” the man agreed. “I’m sure he didn’t tell you a thing about it. Or that he’d planned to have you cover that final expense.”
“I can’t,” she shook her head. “I don’t have the money, not l-like that.”
“Oh no,” the man waved her off. “Of course not. An office assistant to a small startup magazine? We would’ve never believed him if he’d said that you did. No, what your brother planned to settle his debt with was you – just you.”
When Samantha just stared at him, eyes furrowed and mouth a small line, the man sighed and elaborated, “Your body, I mean.”
Realization struck Samantha and she breathed, “Human trafficking?”
“Please,” the man scowled, shaking his head, and for a moment relief swelled in Samantha’s chest. “Prostitution,” he offered instead, and she gasped.
“Y-you can’t!” she jumped up, knocking her chair over. The man simply watched her calmly, moving only to rest his chin in his hands. “This isn’t—I’m a person! With rights!” she proclaimed.
“Oh, yes,” he nodded sympathetically. “I completely understand. Just as long as you understand that it is completely within
right to respond to your brother’s betrayal.”
The man stood up, his chair scraping the floor, and Samantha took three steps back. She was clutching her purse to her chest like a shield, trembling as she waited for him to spring his trap.
“But,” he seemed to relent, and his shoulders sagged as he grabbed something off of his desk. In the next moment he’d clicked the flame of a lighter and lit the thing in his mouth – a cigarette, one that smelled richer than the cheap brands that his subordinates had been smoking outside.
,” he said again. “You are not the same as your brother. You’re an innocent,” he said by way of a nod. “And not at all what I had been expecting to walk through that door.” Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he blew out a ring and rubbed his chin. “Your brother is young, and fit. I’m sure that we can find a market to sell him into just as easily.” Shrugging to himself, he started walking towards the door. “I’ll tell the men to bring him in.” As he moved into the light, Samantha realized that he was wearing a suit, not leather and jeans like his men. He seemed normal – like he could be reasoned with.
“W-wait!” Samantha reached for him, but immediately brought her hand back to her chest. The last thing she wanted to do was touch the man who’d just announced that he could have her sold off, or worse. Still, her movement seemed to have given him pause. “You can’t. James, I know he isn’t—”
“He’s scum,” the man said, breathing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. His blue eyes were on her, his height allowing him to tower over her. Samantha gulped.
This man was dangerous.
“Please,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry that he’s wronged you, but he’s my little brother.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re loyal to him, even after hearing how he’d planned to sell you out?”
,” she tried again, closing her eyes to block out his harsh stare.