Trash Daddy

19. A Navy SUV and Twelve Fuck Faces

Another horrible idea crawls into my mind. If they aren’t here for the payday, then the SUV could be feds scoping out Carmella. She knows my comings and goings. She would make a great informant on the money side of Sasha’s organization. But the feds would get her killed. Sasha would gut her. Stress hammers my body. The right people could leverage away her legal problems for ratting me out. Would that be enough to make her do it?

Joke would be on them, though. She knows nothing of substance. I think.

If it were the cops or a detective here for her because of her aunt, they would have already called it in. Boots would have been on the ground by now, and Carmella would be in cuffs.

“What are you doing?” her sleepy voice calls from the hallway. I look up just in time to see her walk out wearing one of my shirts. It drapes down to mid-thigh, making her look so snuggly. My gaze travels down to her wrists and forearms where the self-inflicted scars rest. Self-harm was never my thing, but rage certainly is, and I took it out on anyone I could when I was younger.

If someone were going to send in a woman to con me, they sent the right one—sad, broken, and beautiful, with enough of a temper to keep me interested. The creeping feeling of doubt clouds my mind as I watch her walk toward me.

“What kind of car does Tommy drive?” I ask.

She pauses a few feet from me, surprise coloring her face. “A beat-up teal-green Toyota. It’s ugly as sin and rusted along the bottom. Trust me, you can’t miss it. It screams, ‘I’m a drug dealer,’ or ‘Hey, kid, come get some candy.’” She laughs at her own joke. “Why?”

She spots the monitors behind me and her eyebrows draw down. “He isn’t outside, is he?”

I watch her body language. “No, does he drive another car?”

She snorts. “He can barely keep the one running, Luke. He doesn’t have multiple cars.”

She steps closer, and I lick my lips. “What does your aunt drive?”

She gives me a harassed look, but her next words come out mocking, high pitch, but somehow still dripping with venom. “A twenty-twenty silver Nissan. She got such a good deal on it.” Carmella rolls her eyes and folds her hands over her chest in faux innocence.

She drops her arms as she takes me in, concern marring her features. “What’s with the twenty questions, Luke?”

She stands close now, within the U-shaped desk. I rise and wander over to her. Pushing her against the desk with my body, I gently wrap my long fingers around the column of her throat and squeeze. Her eyes widen in surprise when I don’t let up, those dark pupils dilating inside the oceans of her irises.

My lips whisper against hers, coaxing her mouth opening as I deepen the kiss. She makes an unsure sound, a mixture of surprise and arousal. It ends in a little moan when I break the seal between our lips. Hesitation plagues her face as she rubs her neck, but her eyes wander back to my mouth and I can’t help but smirk. Seems caramel drop has developed a taste for me. “Are you okay?” she asks. Warmth seeps through the palm she places on my chest and into my skin, and I want her to touch me with that type of care for the rest of my life. It feels so nice. I could curl up into that touch.

I recognize this for what it is. Carmella is a new weakness.

Weaving my fingers through her hair, I enjoy the feel of it. If she’s fucking me over, I’m going to take what I want and make her regret ever knowing me. My gaze scans her face, and I watch the uncertainty and confusion knit her brow. She bites her lip and stares at me, silently asking for answers I’m not going to give her.

If this is acting, she is going to be a star one day.

“What changed?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

I untangle my fingers from her hair and wrap them back around her neck. The quick squeeze meant to intimidate backfires. My dick has other ideas about how Carmella’s pulse feels under our hand and grows into a half chub. Great. “Are we doing one of your kinky games?” she says.

Cocking my eyebrow up, I repeat to her, “My kinky games?”

“Yeah, you know. First, you were kinda paying me, but we’re not doing that anymore… So, are we doing something new now?” A pink tongue snakes out and licks over her lips. Our eyes meet. “Are we doing, like, rough stuff now… or what?”

I want to laugh and shake my head. At first, she was too cautious of me, and now that she’s all in, she isn’t cautious enough.

“Yesterday, you literally hid from me in the bathroom, and this morning you”re moaning and letting me fuck you with my pseudo-cock. What changed?”

Her face turns crimson, and she tries to pull away. I tighten my grip and grind my body into hers, pinning her against the desk, my dick responding with glee. Her eyes flair open in shock when I don’t back off. Her chest heaves rapidly in anger. I think I may have offended her. “What’s your problem today? Let go of me,” she spits.

“Not until you talk to me. You’ve been the chattiest I’ve ever seen you for the last twenty-four hours. Don’t stop now. Tell me what changed.”

“Nothing changed.”

“Lies.” I squeeze her face, making her look at me. “Tell me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as she tries to yank herself away. “Fine, you want to know what’s different?” She mumbles a little from where I have her face smashed. I let go. Her eyes snap open, fires blazing. Yeah, I definitely pissed her off. “I’m scared of what will happen when the cops and my aunt find me this time. And I thought here, I was safe.” She glances down at my hands. “Well, mostly safe. And I wanted to do things with you even before Tommy was out of the picture. I thought it was finally okay to act on this between us, but clearly not. I wanted to date you, or at least I did before you woke up this morning and decided to be a dickhead.”

I know I’m being a jerk and ruining a good morning. I dip my head and suck her lower lip, offering her a bit of tenderness. Letting go of her throat, I fist my hands into her hair and consume her mouth, forcing her back until she bends and clings to me for support. I crush her lips against mine over and over until the noises she makes are half panicked, half desperate for more. I shove my hands under the shirt, finding her still hot and slick. Thrusting my fingers inside her tight pussy, I finger bang what’s mine on the front desk in full view of the glass windows.

Later, after her legs stop shaking and her orgasm flushed skin cools, I watch as she sucks in a breath and steadies herself against the table, touching the redness spreading across the lower half of her face from my scruff and mustache. She looks at me with arousal and what I can only interpret as confused hurt. I was rough today, and I had been so nice.

My dick throbs, letting me know his interest and whining because I took nothing for myself. Draping my shirt back over her, I place a line of kisses from her throat to her ear. She eyes me cautiously. I can’t blame her for being leery of my hot-and-cold attitude.

“I need to make some calls. Go pour us some coffee and make mine as sweet as you were when you spread your legs for me.” I slap her ass—not hard—and she glares at me. When there is enough distance between us, she tosses a middle finger over her shoulder, making me chuckle despite the battle brewing inside me.

Walking back to my bedroom, I snag my burner and punch in the necessary numbers before walking back to the front of the store and observing the traffic out my windows as the phone rings.

“Finally. Been expecting a call from you for over a week now. Where are my reports?” Sasha’s clipped voice comes over the phone.

Normally, I would make a snide remark or dance around the reason for my call just to push my brother’s buttons, but not this morning.

“We have a problem.”

Sasha is quiet, but I hear his chair squeak and can imagine him in his office, leaning forward onto his desk, preparing himself to deal with whatever issue I’m about to lay on him.

“What problem?” I can hear the lilt of his Russian accent slip into his speech, the first warning sign that I’m stressing him out.

“Someone is casing the shop. I don’t know who, but I’ve caught them on camera watching the place several times. I’m gonna need some men over here for the foreseeable future.”

A string of curse words come across the line. The accent is thicker now. “Who do you think they are?”

“I was hoping maybe you might be able to tell me?” I say, skirting around his question. The reality is, my potential enemies list is too long, and going over every possibility is not only going to piss Sasha off but also draw a lot of attention to Carmella. And to the fact that she could create real complications for my and Sasha’s business if he finds out about her dirty laundry. He’ll want me to get rid of her. Hell, he is going to want me to get rid of her even if she didn’t come wrapped up in legal red tape, and I can’t hide her forever.

I can hear Sasha in the background giving orders. “We will be there soon, Luke.” With that, he hangs up.

“Please, Carmella, just stay in here,” I beg. I’m standing in the doorway of my bedroom, watching her pace the small space like a dog on a short leash. The smooth skin of her thighs flash under my shirt, still draped on her body.

Her blue eyes clash with mine. “Why should I?”

Because I don’t really feel like hashing “us” out to Sasha and the men, especially when it will cause more problems than solve.

I open my mouth, but have no legitimate excuse as to why she needs to stay in here that doesn’t expose the type of work I do. We’ve been going round and round about her staying out of sight once Sasha arrives and I’ve been able to avoid why in so many words until now.

“If you stay in here, I will buy you whatever you want, let you lie in bed all week. Whatever you want, but please, just stay here,” I say.

“I’m not some child that you can just bribe, Luke!” She pushes past me and into the hallway, headed for the show floor.

“Why not? It”s been working for sex since I’ve met you. Why not now?” I mutter.

The daggers in her eyes tell me I’m treading on thin ice. She flips her hair and takes a seat at the horseshoe front desk, spinning away from me. Frustration makes me want to shake her, grab her by the arm, and lock her up in the closet.

Three black Escalades cruise down the street and pull up to the front of the store in uniform. Men pile out of the doors, some dressed in wife-beaters and others in suits, each one of them armed and serious looking. And just like that, it’s too late. Carmella—still clad only in my shirt—whips her head around to look at me with rounded eyes before getting up and backing away from the desk.

“Luke, what’s going on?” she asks, her voice an octave or two too high.

“Just get in the bathroom. Hurry. Go,” I tell her, walking toward the front door to greet my brother and praying they haven’t seen her yet.

I’m halfway to the front when I hear the bathroom door creak shut and the ringer on the front door open.

Sasha strolls in, dressed to the nines as usual, and pulls his leather driving gloves from his hands. Why he insists on gloves in one-hundred-degree weather, I will never understand. Sasha’s long blonde hair is pulled up into a tight, smooth bun that sits atop his head, a style that accentuates his sharp cheekbones and steely gray-blue eyes. The motherfucker has always been runway model handsome and caused many people over the years to underestimate him. They’re all dead now, but the ladies love him. Too bad he has ice where a heart should be when it comes to pussy. Actually, when it comes to most things.

Sasha’s posture and movement speak to a man in control, not only of the men around him, but also of himself. A trait I’ve always admired and failed to imitate. Graceful and as sharp as a blade, he cuts a nod in my direction. There was a time when we would have greeted each other with a hug and he would’ve thumped me on the back. I swallow thickly.

“It is good to see you, brother. Been a while since you”ve been out to Lux. Why is that?” Sasha says pointedly.

His intense eyes bore into me, and I squash the flicker of guilt. I offer him my most charming grin. “Oh, you know, just scheming and dreaming.”

Sasha pivots to check the store. “Business looks… dead. That’s bad, Luke. Very bad.” He slaps the driving gloves into the palm of his hand before circling back to me.

“Well, technically, I haven’t opened yet due to the problem I mentioned on the phone.” I’m getting a little exasperated with Sasha’s behavior. I don’t know what he expected to find, but twelve gun toting fuck faces rolling up on a store full of customers while they debate countertops isn’t how I do business. I bite my tongue to keep from saying as much. How Sasha and I speak to each other privately is unacceptable around other members of the Bratva.

He “hmmms” a bit before saying, “Let’s see this problem of yours,” and brushes past me. I nearly roll my eyes at his dramatics but fall in line, letting him lead the way—in my store.

He takes my seat at the main desk while the men fan out around the place and Aleksi steps up behind us. We exchange handshakes and I try not to be resentful. Since my fall from grace, Aleksi has stepped into some of my roles as Sasha’s right-hand man.

Sometimes, I think Aleksi is doing a better job than I did. Sometimes, I know he is.

Sometimes, I wonder if Sasha likes him better. Sometimes… I know he does.

I open the security software and go to the video logs, showing Sasha and Aleksi the preselected time frames. After the fifth video, Sasha asks, “How many times have you caught them on camera?”

“Nine so far.”

“And they haven’t rolled on you?” Aleksi asks this time.

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“Have they followed you anywhere else?” Sasha says, and I know what he really means. Have I been anywhere that anyone outside of the Bratva shouldn’t be in the time frames that I’ve been followed?

“No, I’ve mostly just been here.” Sasha nods, his face as cool and unruffled as always, even as he shares a look with Aleksi. Aleksi shrugs.

“Do you know who it is?” I ask, glancing between the two of them.

Aleksi laughs as I shift back his way. “Not a single damn idea, Luke.” Well, that’s great.

Sasha cuts in. “It doesn’t matter who it is. We will find and deal with them. They won’t be a problem for long. There is a reason the Bratva are the only organization in these parts.” He snaps his fingers and six men come forward. I’m thankful it’s men I’m familiar with, who used to work under me laundering Sasha’s cash when business was at its peak. I offer them a few greetings and smiles.

Unlike other Avtoritets of the Russian Mob, who would have picked a flashier city like Miami or Tampa to work out of, Sasha prefers the control the small town of White Cove offers. Close enough to a big city to get shit done, but far enough into the weeds that he can barricade himself in with local, loyal men. It’s also far enough away that Sasha’s boss, Konstantin the Pakhan, can’t just fly in without some kind of notice coming our way.

“Luke.” Sasha’s voice pulls me back to him and our eyes lock. “Put them on a rotation and deal with this issue quickly and quietly. I want this resolved—no drama, no waves. Do I make myself clear?”

The unspoken meaning in his words eats at me. Do what needs to be done. Be the man you once were. Don’t disappoint me again. Come back into the fold. Don’t get us caught or killed. Don’t draw the attention of the Pakhan or the other Avtoritets.

“I’ll deal with it,” I promise him.

Sasha rises from the desk and walks around to the front. He’s leaving already? He takes another look around the empty store. “Maybe it’s time to consider selling this place and putting your money into more lucrative ventures.” I flinch as his proposal knocks the air out of me. It isn’t the first time we have discussed it, and he knows my opinion about selling the place. I don’t answer him.

“I expect you at Lux tonight, Luke. Now, the reports.”

I sigh internally at the thought of the low numbers and spending the evening with Sasha after he gets a look at them, but I pull out the black ledger, anyway. Arm extended, I hold it out for him. Sasha slips the driving gloves over his long fingers, stretching the fabric with precise and practiced moves.

My brother looks at me once more, his face bored and maybe even a bit let down by my presence, nods, and steps away from the desk, making his way out the doors. He never looks back and fuck if it doesn’t hurt. Aleksi removes the ledger from my hands.

“Thanks,” Aleksi says as he unfurls his sunglasses, placing them on his face and follows our boss back to the vehicles.

Tucking away the feeling of being a colossal failure, I glance back at the monitor. Whoever is in that navy SUV is fucked. Whatever they want, whatever they are hoping to achieve, they will find out quickly enough that I don’t play well and neither does Sasha. I won’t fuck it up this time.

Organizing the shifts between the six men left in the store makes me feel better—there will always be two sets of eyes on the store and shop. I nearly breathe a sigh of relief then realize there will always be two sets of eyes on the store and shop. Eyes that report to Sasha… and I have to go retrieve Carmella from the bathroom.

I groan inwardly.