Raw (21 page)

He blinks down at the money, gripping it tightly. Recovering quickly, he says, “Thank you…”

“Twitch,” I offer, then quickly add, “But you’ll call me Mr. T.”

Looking up at me, he utters, “Thanks, Mr. T. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

I offer a small piece of my true self when I threaten, “You won’t disappoint me, Michael. It would be very stupid of you to disappoint me.”

Looking a little fearful, he says quietly, “Yes, sir.”

Yes, sir.

I like that. This was a good idea.

“And if you have the slightest inkling that you’re going to be late, even by a minute…” I wait to make sure he’s listening. He nods quickly for me to continue. “…You call me
and
you call Miss Ballentine. I don’t care what time of night or day it is. You fucking call. Got it?”

He nods vigorously. Wanting to put him at ease, I place a hand on his head and ruffle his scraggly brown hair. “Okay, boy. You’re dismissed. See you Monday.”

With his eyes to the money in his hand, he picks up his school bag and walks out of the office, closing the door behind him.

I inhale deeply, then exhale slowly, hoping that I somehow haven’t made the wrong decision.
 

The boy is smart. He’s quick with his words but has respect. He’ll do nicely.

“What
was
that?” Ah. Lexi.

Fiddling with a cuff link, I tell her, “You were here, babe. Just gave the boy a job.”

Walking across the office, she stands toe-to-toe with me.

And it makes me smile. A real smile.

She’s so small. With her hands on her hips and her face bunched, she looks pissed at me. I don’t know why she’d be pissed at me, but her stance has me a little worked up.
 

My eyes flash.

Sitting on the edge of her desk, I spread my knees apart and demand, “Come here, Lexi.”

Bending at the waist, she whisper-hisses, “No! I will not
come here, Lexi
just because you said so! What I’m still struggling with is why you just gave my seventeen-year-old two-year case a
job
when I don’t want him dealing!”

Back up.

Folding my arms across my chest, I lean back and study the floor, pursing my lips.

“You think I gave Michael a job dealing drugs for me?” I peek up at her through furrowed brows.

Her eyes lose some steam and her stance weakens. “Well, I
did
. Until you said
that
.” Reaching up, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Dammit, now I’m just confused.”

Adorable. No shit.

“Babe, I gave that boy a job. A
legit
job. He needs the money for something, and he’s desperate enough to turn to the streets. Not gonna happen now. He’ll shadow me and be somewhat of a PA for me. You said it yourself, he’s smart. He needs something better than dealing. And I promise, if he sticks with me, I’ll take care of him. He’ll go to school and get a degree. He’ll be better off working for me.”

Her face has softened, but her eyes are still wary. Rolling her eyes, she asks sarcastically, “So, what? You’re just going to hire all my kids now?”

I immediately ask in all seriousness, “Would that make you happy?”

‘Cause I’d fucking do it.

For her, I’d do it.

Not answering, she shakes her head and her face becomes sweet again. “I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions and it was really shitty of me. I’m glad Michael is working for you rather than dealing. It was a nice thing to do. So, thank you, Twitch.”

Patting the inside of my knee, I demand once more, “Come here, Lexi.”

Looking me in the eye, she takes two steps forward to stand in-between my legs. Leaning forward, I brush the tip of my nose against hers and whisper, “You really happy about this, or you just sayin’ that?”

Her eyes close, she rubs the tip of her nose to mine again, and says huskily, “I’m really, really happy.”

I make a soft growling noise in my throat.

This little woman turns me on something fierce.

“So you’re grateful?” She opens her eyes and nods. Leaning back from her, I watch her through my hooded gaze and ask very slowly, “Grateful enough to suck my tongue?”

Her breath hitches and her eyes flash the brightest of blues.

I smile big.

She likes that.
 

Leaning closer, I lower my face to hers until our noses meet. Opening my mouth, I run my tongue along her lower lip. Her lips part a little and I slide my tongue into her mouth. And she sighs.

She fucking
sighs
.

As if my tongue was a fucking gift. The
best
gift she’s ever gotten.

Her lips close around my tongue and she sucks very, very gently. My already painfully-hard cock jerks in my pants. I’m craving her. I want to touch her, but this is about her showing me gratitude. My fingers curl around the edges of her desk to stop myself from kissing her back.

She sucks a little harder. Her lips are heavenly. Her hands come up to cup my cheeks, and tilting her head slightly, she sucks even harder, going so deep that our lips meet.

This is the single most erotic experience of my life.

A mewing sound escapes her and I pull back. Beautifully flushed, her eyes flutter open and I lick my lips.

I taste strawberry lip gloss.

Clearing my throat, I utter, “Gratitude displayed. Now thank me, baby.”

Asking her to thank me for letting her suck my tongue is a bit much, I’ll admit that, but she blinks before saying softly, almost dreamily, “Thank you, Twitch.”

And my cock nearly explodes.

I need to get out of here. Buttoning up my jacket, I stand. “Got shit to do, babe. I’ll call.”

Returning to her usual self, she smiles, “No. You won’t.”

Smiling back, I respond, “No. I won’t.”

Then I turn on my heel and walk away from the girl of my dreams.

Leaving Lexi’s office, I make it back to work in time for Happy to pull me aside for a rare moment of privacy. “You sort things with the girl?”

Staring him down, I search his face. My lip curls.

What the fuck is it to him?

When he catches my glare, he matches it. “Don’t look at me like that. It
is
my business because it’s your business. Do you remember that I own this fucking company too? Remember why you came to me for that reason? You’re too impulsive. Unhinged, even. And you know it. I just want to protect my investment. I won’t let you fuck things up for me, man. Love you like a brother, but I won’t let you do that.”

Won’t let… Won’t
let
me?

Taking a step towards him, fire in my eyes, he places something into my hand. Part of me begs the angry part to let it go. But the angry part…it always wins. Glancing at the business card, fury makes my brain scramble. Lifting my fist, I punch my friend square in the mouth. Stumbling back, he falls flat on his ass. Ignoring my throbbing knuckles, I shake my hand a moment to relieve the pain, then flick the business card onto his chest.

My eyes focusing on the blood dripping from the side of his mouth, I ball my hands into fists and count to ten to stop myself from attacking a second time. And a third time. My head pounds with the need to do just that. “Don’t need to talk to a fucking quack,
friend
.” I say friend in a way that makes it sound like he’s anything but. “I’m fine. I’m fucking
great
.”

Happy stands, takes out a handkerchief from his shirt pocket, and dabs at his bloody lip, panting. “That’s exactly why you need to see someone, bro.” We stare at each other. “You’re not fine. I don’t think you’ve been fine a day in your life.”

Happy is my friend, but he’s also a pain in my ass. Turning to allow myself a moment to calm the beast that resides in my head, I breathe deeply. “No quack. Subject closed. What’s on the agenda today?”

He responds immediately, “Damage control. Warehouse A.”

My brow lifts. A sadistic smile appears on my face.

Looks like I’ll be able to take out my anger on someone after all.

Sitting on a five dollar fold out chair from a hardware store, my anger builds watching the traitor who tries in vain to cover his story. But he lies.

I know lies. I’m the
king
of lies. And
his
are grating my nerves.

Happy kicks his knees out. He falls forward into a kneeling position.

The middle-aged, plump cronie shakes while pleading, “Mr. T, please, don’t do this. My family, they—”

He bites his tongue upon mentioning his family. As if I’ll go after them.

The guy doesn’t know me at all. That’s not my style.

Reaching into the back of my slacks, I pull out my .32 calibre semi-auto. She’s a beauty, but my .45 is my favorite. I won’t use my baby on this piece of shit though. I don’t want her dirtied by his filthy blood.

Looking down, right into his eyes, I hold his stare.

Using the barrel of the gun to scratch at my temple absentmindedly, I ask a second time, “What did you tell Hamid, Patrick? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because photographs don’t lie. And the way he shook your hand and smiled like he’d won the fucking lottery, I know you told him something.” He trembles and cries. Snot runs down his nostrils and into his mouth. “Nothing? You won’t tell me?”

Standing, I take two steps towards him and sigh at the pitiful state of him. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just business.”

Raising the barrel of the gun to his forehead, I breathe deeply and close my eyes.

I exhale.

The shot rings out.

Smiling like a dork, I’m giddy at getting some girl-time in. I really need it after this week’s occurrences.

Nikki and I have a weekly standing date at a local café. Somewhere we can meet during the week and spend our lunch hour yakking away. I don’t necessarily like today’s subject.

She stirs her coffee and avoids my eyes, looking guilty. “I don’t know anything about this guy and that worries me. I-”
Cough,
“I’ve asked around and—”

I cut her off with a gasp, “Nikki, you didn’t!”

Placing her hands up in a placating way, she adds, “I can’t let me best friend go out with just anyone now, can I? It’s beside the point, babe, because I couldn’t come up with a damn thing. People know of him. People know about him. And people would rather swallow razor blades than gossip about Twitch. Meaning: he’s not only scary, but the man keeps his shit tighter than a Vatican priest.”