Chapter 2
Damon
Why the fuck is this bitch so tense?
I can't have a girl work at my strip club if she is going to be this uptight. Her back isn’t even bowed, and she looks uncomfortable as fuck. Still, it would be a shame to send this one away.
Maybe she’s playing hard to get. I smirk. I love it when they play hard to get. The rougher the better.
I reach for the waistband of her stretchy yoga pants and pull them down roughly.
She whimpers underneath me, and again, I wonder if it’s an act.
It has to be an act. No one shows up here, especially a woman, without expecting to get fucked.
I rub my rock-hard cock between her ass cheeks, making it crystal clear what I want.
She’s got a nice body, a plump ass, and enough meat on her hips for me to grip onto when I pound into her.
“You know, for someone who snuck into my office and waited for me…you play really fucking hard to get. Is this how you like it?” I lace my fingers into her hair and nip at her ear, growling the words. I’m getting seriously fucking frustrated.
I reach around her body and slip a hand into the front of her panties. Expecting to find her cunt wet and ready, I’m surprised when I find her soft, warm clit dry. She isn’t here to fuck me. Fucking pity. Hopefully, I don't have to kill her.
I pull my hand away from her pussy and loosen my grip on her hair, but I don't release her yet. She's not going to get away from me that easily.
“Who the fuck are you?” I growl, my fingers slipping to the back of my jeans, resting against my gun. If she is not here for the job or to get fucked, then what the hell does she want?
“M-M-My brother...sent me.” She stumbles over her own words, and my gaze rakes over her body. Her bare ass is shaking…her entire body…
“He’s dead…”
I flip her over onto her back so I can see her face.
She doesn't look familiar, and I would definitely remember a pretty face like hers. Beautiful brown eyes almost too large for her heart-shaped face, and those lips…they're plump, fuckable. I want them around my cock—preferably right now—but I doubt that's going to happen tonight.
She looks at me with fear in her eyes, her body trembling. It bothers me, but not enough for me to stop myself from pulling my gun out. I'm not fond of killing women, but I do what needs to be done.
“Who the fuck is your brother?” I snarl. My body is still impossibly close to hers. If she tries to escape, I’ll have my hand wrapped around her throat in a second.
I watch her face. Her lips quiver. There is no way she is the sister of one of my men. No one who is affiliated with us gets this terrified over a simple question. But then again, I’ve seen grown ass men piss their pants dealing with me.
“Are you fucking deaf?” I press the barrel of the gun into her side, right between her ribs. If I pull the trigger, she’ll die. There's no way around it.
“Puh...puh…please don't.” Tears stain her cheeks.
I lean closer, smelling her fear, but beneath it, I get a whiff of strawberry. It’s faint, barely there, but it makes my mouth water. I suddenly have the ridiculous urge to kiss her.
What the fuck?
I don’t kiss. I don’t cuddle. I don’t do dates. I don’t do shit that could possibly lead to anyone thinking I like a girl for anything other than the hole between her legs.
But this girl…she has me intrigued. She’s different from the girls I usually have at my mercy.
She also still hasn’t told me who her fucking brother is, and that's pissing me the hell off. I ask a question, I get a fucking answer.
“I’m not used to asking twice so you better give me a fucking answer now before I blow your brains all over my office.”
“Le...Le...Leo is…w-w-was my brother. He…he’s dead.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Leo told me about his little sister a while back.
I don’t know much about her, but I do know she knows nothing about the shit her brother was caught up in.
He asked me watch out for her incase something bad happened.
And promising to watch out for her was the only way I could get him to do some of the more risky drops.
I didn't think that promise would actually show up in my office one day.
What the fuck am I supposed to do with her? She is not my responsibility. So what if I told him I'd look after her. It's not like her brother is going to come back to life to see if I kept my promise.
I move toward my desk. Sinking into the leather chair, I prop my feet up on the edge, and order, “Pull your pants back up.” I can't have a half-naked girl in my office and not fuck her. I’m already going to have blue balls as it is.
Maybe I’ll take that new stripper for a test ride… what's her name? Amanda? Anna?
My attention shifts back to the present. Kiera…or Kilie, I think is her name. She sits very still for a long moment, and I worry maybe she didn't hear me. She's not gonna last one fucking day here if she doesn't learn to do as she's told when she’s told.
I bite my tongue, stopping myself from saying anything else. It's not something I do often, and I'm not really sure why I do it for her. The girl finally scurries to get her pants back on, then grabs her backpack off the chair and heads for the door.
I almost snap. God, she’s a pain in the ass.
“I don’t remember saying you could leave.” She stops dead in her tracks, and I smirk. It’s fun to know I have some type of control over her.
“Sit your ass back down. We’re done when I say we’re done.” I can see her legs shake from across the room, and wouldn't be surprised if they gave out, sending her plump ass to the floor.
She wears her emotions on her face. She’s weak. Filled to the brim with fear—and over what? I’ve watched many of my men die, have killed people who didn’t really deserve it, and I never felt a single drop of remorse.
So why the fuck am I feeling sorry for her?
“How do you know he’s dead?” My gaze turns to slits.
“I found him,” she says, her voice shaky. Her brown eyes refuse to meet mine, and that’s infuriating. A person’s eyes are the portal to their soul. How can I be sure she is telling me the truth if she refuses to look me in the eye?
“I found him in my apartment,” she finishes, visibly swallowing.
“Did you call the cops?” I ask, and this time when she looks at me, her brown eyes go wide and she shakes her head.
At least she wasn’t dumb enough to phone them.
“Write your address down.” I throw her a pen and piece of paper and watch her scribble something down.
When she’s done, she gets up to hand me the items, but her hands are so damn shaky, she drops the pen.
She gets down on her hands and knees beside my desk, searching for it. As if my cock wasn’t pressing uncomfortably against my zipper already.
Fuck this girl.
A second later, her head pops up and she places both the items in front of me, before pushing up from the floor. I’d love to see the look on her face when I tell her how much blood has been spilt on this floor.
“Why…why do you need my address?”
“Well, I need to send a cleanup crew out for one, and two I’ve got to figure out what the hell kind of shit your brother was into to get him killed.” She winces at the mention of her brother, but I don’t have the time or patience to tiptoe around her feelings. “Do you have a phone?”
“Y-yes.”
“Give it to me.”
She digs in her girly backpack and hands me the phone. I smash it on the floor, then step on it for good measure. I can’t have her calling people or taking pictures from inside my office. She stares up at me, but doesn’t say anything. Thank. Fucking. God.
“Stay here, don’t move, and don’t fucking touch anything.”
Getting up, my chair scoots back on the hardwood floor. Even that simple noise makes her flinch. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with her? Was she abused? Attacked?
I think back to the way I treated her a few minutes ago. Guilt pricks my conscience. Fuck me. At least she’s not like all the other women who only want to throw themselves at me.
Shaking my head, I make my way out of the room, closing the door behind me. I pull my key out of my pocket and lock the door.
Now that she’s here, she’s a liability. A loose end. And I can’t risk having her fuck up my entire life because she doesn’t understand how dark and dangerous world this is.
I find Toni in one of the back rooms and give him the address on the paper.
“Send a cleanup crew out there right now. If anyone gives you trouble, contact Shane.”
“Sure thing, boss.” He takes the paper and gets up from the leather couch. There we go—how it’s supposed to be. I make an order and shit gets done. No questions asked, no comments, or whimpering. Now, I need to figure out how I get the chick in my office to do the same.
I rub my jaw. It has been a while since Leo did work for me.
I’d have to wait for the cleanup crew to get back to see who’s possibly responsible for this shit.
Every gang has their own way of killing people.
Some carry it out over hours, torturing, cutting, and destroying.
Others simply place a gun to someone's head and pull the trigger. From the look on Kiera’s face, I’m assuming it wasn’t a bullet wound her brother died from.
Jesus, I need a drink...and a blowjob.
Fuck babysitting.
I’m not keeping that girl.
No. Fucking. way.