Unjustified Demands (Filthy Florida Alphas Book 2) (9 page)

I jerk awake with a start. I’m surprised I slept at all. I haven’t been able to get more than a few hours a night since Allen started getting into trouble. Roman is sleeping beside me, his hand strung across my stomach. The temptation to stay is strong. The heat of his body lures me in, and there’s so much more I want to experience. For all that we’ve done, I’ve not had him inside of me yet, and I ache for that.
Hunger for it.
I’ve had a few relationships and I’ve always known that I like for a man to take control, but none have been as dominate and demanding as Roman was. I even have the feeling that he was holding back. I would love to explore more with him. That would be bad.
For several reasons.

I want to stretch against him and relax back into his warmth. I can’t. I can’t stay here. I need to meet with Paul and I need to see if he’s managed to get any more leads on Allen. I can’t help but stare at Roman for a minute. Asleep, he looks different. Still devastatingly handsome and breathtaking, but his face is softer, relaxed … even peaceful. I’ve spent the last couple of days kicking myself for being attracted to Roman. It goes against everything I stand for. I know what kind of man he is. I know the things he does. All of that should make me run in the opposite direction. Yet, here I am in bed with him, breaking every rule I’ve put in place, and not even able to drum up enough guilt to care. In fact, if he was to wake up right now, I’d give myself to him again.

I should have never crossed that line. Now I’m afraid I’ll never be able to go back.

I try to slide out of the bed, but Roman’s hand stops me, pulling me back into him. At first I’m afraid I’ve woken him, but he mumbles and shifts in his sleep. I hold myself as still as humanly possible, but doing so causes me to breathe in his scent, and this tiny frisson of need blooms in my stomach and moves through my body. Good Lord, he’s more addicting than any drug on the market. Once he settles down, I try once again to slide away. He protests at first, his fingers pressing into my side. No one has ever tried to hold on to me, in bed or out, and the fact that Roman is, really messes with my head.

I push it away. I can’t fixate on that right now. I carefully replace my body with the pillow above my head and, inch by inch, pull away. It takes me awhile to gather my clothes, mostly because I keep looking back expecting Roman to catch me.
Insanity
. He’ll probably be glad I’m going. He doesn’t seem the type to indulge in awkward morning-after conversation.

I have my satchel, but I’m afraid to take the time to find clean clothes, so I put my underwear and bra back on in disgust. I’ve never done it before. Is this what makes the walk of shame so…
shameful
? Then, I hold the rest of the clothes and my overnight bag tight to my chest and carefully leave the room. I can get dressed with less worry in the living area. I’m pulling up my pants when I hear movement to my right. My eyes look up and that’s when I see the maid from last night. She’s shooting me a look much like I imagine Medusa would use when turning her victims to stone.

“Um… I was just going to…”

“Leave? Don’t let me stop you. Mr. Anthes doesn’t normally like his whores to be here when he wakes up, so you should hurry. The few that overstayed their welcome wish they hadn’t.”

I’m completely taken aback. Her words smack me harder than any physical blow would. If looks could kill, I would be dead.

“I’m sorry about the dishes. I could help.” Even as I’m saying the words, I hate them, but I need to not make enemies. I do not need someone dying to destroy me, especially in Roman’s home.

“The last thing I need is
your
help,” she replies cattily.

Well, it can’t get any clearer than that. I quickly put my shirt and socks on, then walk to the door.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” I say again. Really, at this point I want to kick my own ass.

“Just make sure you didn’t steal anything. Mr. Anthes will not look kindly towards a thief.”

Look kindly? Steal?
Thief?
There so much there to dislike and the words make me swallow the acid that has churned up from my stomach. I want to scream at her and maybe throat-punch her, kick her in the lady-junk.
Something
.

Instead, I ignore her, which is no consolation. I quietly open the door and step outside. I lean against it and take a large breath, feeling like I just escaped prison. My body jumps when I hear the click of the lock from the other side. The maid, no doubt.
Bitch
. I take a deep breath and then walk away. If I hurry, I’ll have just enough time to shower before I meet Paul. The last thing I need is to go see him while smelling like sex—
like sex with Roman
. I can only imagine the lectures
that
will get me.

“The next time you decide to text me at six in the morning and ask me to meet you in thirty minutes, the least you could do is be on time, Ana,” Paul says, his gravelly voice ringing out in the empty warehouse. We’re meeting in an abandoned warehouse about three blocks from the apartment I’m renting. I think it used to be an old dog food factory. Now it’s just empty cement that smells musty, dirty, and—just to add spice—seems to have a faint smell of urine. Whether it’s human or animal, I couldn’t begin to know, and don’t care to find out.

“It’s just ten minutes. Stop whining, Paul. You sound like an old mother hen,” I tell him, grabbing the coffee he’s handing me.
Coffee, sweet nectar of the gods.
It’s the only thing that keeps me going these days.

“Someone needs to worry about shit around here. You sure aren’t. What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ana?”

I freeze with my lips against the plastic lid on the container and close my eyes. Shit. Fuck. Damn.
He knows
. “I don’t know what you mean,” I bluff.  “I don’t have much time though, so give me what you guys got at the raid yesterday.”

“What are you doing, Ana?” he repeats, but his voice is softer this time, the type of voice I imagine a father using on his daughter. Well, a good one. I never had one of those, but I can imagine it. And Paul is everything I wish my father had been. At fifty-two, he’s stern but caring, and has been a great role model. He’s helped me turn my life around. So, it’s not easy seeing the disappointment in his eyes right now.

“Please, Paul, let it go. Brass told me they wanted me to get close to Roman.”

“They didn’t mean his bed.”

“That’s not the first time a UC went beyond for a case. Don’t try to convince me I’m wrong.”

“It’s not, but that doesn’t make it right, and those guys have been with the DEA for fucking years; they’re one step away from going vigilante. That’s not who you want to model your career after. Shit, girl. You’re a fucking beat cop. The higher-ups only put you in this position because it involved your brother.”

“And it’s working, right?”

“Ana.”

“Paul, I have to try and get my brother out of this mess alive. If I can do that, that’s all that matters.”

“And kiss your career goodbye?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“That’s crazy talk, kid. You don’t want to ruin your career over this. It doesn’t matter what you do, your brother’s still going to prison. You have to know that.”

“Maybe that’s the best thing for him. He can get clean behind bars,” I argue. He gives me
that
look. The one that says I’m being naïve. Maybe I am. I know drugs are thick in the prisons too, but he stands a chance of getting clean there. If he stays free, he’s going to die.

If he’s not already dead.

“Ana, you need to face facts.”

“Can you please just let this drop and tell me what they found in the raid?”

Paul sighs, but thankfully he lets it go. I know it’s just a temporary reprieve, but still I’m grateful.

“Nothing, kid. Much like we thought. We only did it to distract him and try to rescue you without closing down the investigation. That obviously didn’t work.”

I concentrate on my coffee and ignore the heat in my face.

“You’re having me tailed.”

“You had to know that. You might be deep undercover, but there’s no way they’re going to trust you not to fuck shit up—and not just because you’re Allen’s sister.”

“Because I’m a rookie.”

“Because you’re not even DEA. There’s too much invested to rest it on an unknown.”

“So there’s someone else undercover besides me?”

Paul’s silence speaks volumes.
Shit. Fuck. Damn
. I finish off the last of my coffee, going over the people I’m in contact with, trying to figure out who the fuck the other agent is. I sure as fuck don’t need someone getting me pulled from this case. Shit, I don’t want them to decide to close it down and bring Roman in either. Their first priority will
not
be my brother.

“We need you to take these and plant them in Roman’s bedroom. It’s the only room we’ve been unable to get a device in, undetected,” Paul says, handing me a small white envelope.

“Same drill as before?” I ask, stuffing the paper into the front pocket of my jeans.

“Yeah, try to keep them as close to the bed as you can, or the desk in his room.”

“Got it,” I tell him, trying to ignore the way I feel guilt at doing my job. I didn’t choose the life Roman has. I should have nothing to feel guilty about.
Nothing.

“Try to remember that they’re there, will you? The last fucking thing you need to do is have Brass hear you taking it up the ass by one of their most-wanted kingpins.” I grow pale at his words. He’s upset, I get that. I didn’t expect
that
from him, however.

“I’ll just be going, now,” I tell him, turning away to leave.

He grabs my arm to stop me. “Ana, listen…”

I turn slightly so I can see him. “I think you’ve said enough. I appreciate the advice and concern, but at twenty-six, I will make my own decisions and live with the consequences. I don’t need anyone talking down to me.”

“Ana, you don’t understand…”

“I’ll check in tomorrow, Paul,” I interrupt him and walk out with him saying my name to my back. I’m not mad, not really. He’s right. I did let it go too far. He’s also wrong because I didn’t do it for Allen. I’m not about to tell him that, however. It’s too late to go back and I don’t want to. It’s a moot point because as I jog around the corner heading towards my apartment, I see Roman standing on my doorstep, in his suit, coat, and gloves. He’s angry, I can tell that even from this distance. What I notice most, however, is the way my pussy clenches and the butterflies in my stomach when he turns his gaze on me.

It’s much too late to change anything.