Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Menace
“Tell me about your time in foster care,” I say to Hill as we lie in the bed on the private jet. After two more photoshoots and ten days in Australia, we’re finally headed back to New York. I’d rather we’d stayed for another ten days, but Hill has to work and Sya has set up tons of meetings.
He showed me what he has so far with his article and it’s pretty good.
It paints me in some kind of savior spotlight without it coming off as being too virtuous.
There’s enough about my life outside of the charity to keep a reader’s attention, but it doesn’t only focus on me.
He mentioned all the locations I have for shelters, and which are hiring, as well as how to donate.
It’s a great article, and I’m impressed with his skills.
But he has to get back to his editor so they can work on how to frame the article and what section to add it to their paper for maximum exposure.
While we’ve been gone, his editor has been building up the buzz of a feature on me, one I haven’t granted anyone in over ten years.
People have been clamoring to know more about me, but I’ve denied them.
Not my little psycho though.
Not the love of my life.
I thought I’d loved the man I was with before him, but that was obsession, the need to own and possess. With Hill, I know I own and possess him and he loves it. He doesn’t fight against it, he leans into it, letting me have him any way I’d wish.
Sighing, he asks, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
He runs his fingers up and down my chest, the digits grazing my nipple.
“I was given up when I was three. My parents were meth addicts as well as dealers. I overdosed from all the shit they had cooking and was taken away from there. I wasn’t expected to make it, honestly.
From what I know, doctors thought I’d either die or have extensive brain damage. ”
“But you didn’t,” I whisper, threading my legs through his.
“But I didn’t,” he agrees. “I made a full recovery and was placed in our state facility. I went to a few homes in the beginning, but I was unruly, didn’t listen, didn’t want to be around people.
The group home therapist says it could have something to do with my ordeal, but who knows?
Maybe I always hated people.” He looks up at me with a grin.
“Maybe. When did you meet Lucian?”
“When we were six. His parents were killed in a robbery and the family he had wanted nothing to do with him. So, he came to the facility. From the outset, he clung to me. I tried to shake him, but for some reason, he stuck to me like glue. And every time he came back from being placed with some dickheads that just wanted him for a check, we got closer and closer as he got more and more detached.”
“You needed each other.”
Hill raises and lowers one shoulder. “I think it was more I needed him and didn’t know it. He was always more put together than I was, knew what he wanted from an early age. I was always trying to be like him.”
“Did you get mistreated at the state facility?”
Hill is quiet for a few beats, then says, “Define mistreated. Anyone that hurt me or Lucian either got killed or seriously injured. So, if I was hurt, I got my payback.” He looks up at me with hard eyes, and I swear I fall for him more.
“There are too many people okay with hurting little kids. I made sure I was the last kid they hurt.”
“You’re amazing,” I whisper, taking his lips in a greedy kiss.
Hill gives me a dreamy look before he lies back down, his fingers tracing faint circles on my chest. “What’s your favorite location you’ve had a photo shoot?”
“I did an ad for an underwear brand about eight years ago. It was in—”
“Thailand!” Hill says animatedly, sitting up so he can look at me. “Oh my god, that was my favorite ad of yours. I always wondered…” he stops talking, his cheeks flushed a glorious red.
“Wondered what, little psycho?”
With down turned eyes, he says, “I always wondered if they stuffed a tube sock down there to emphasize your print.”
A wicked grin on my face, I ask, “Do you think a tube sock was necessary?”
“Nope,” he says, cheeks still pink. “All you, Mr. Grant.”
I chuckle and sit up, pulling Hill onto my lap so he can straddle me.
“When I was there, I didn’t do the touristy shit.
I explored the countryside and talked to the locals.
They live a simple, but extremely vibrant life.
Everything built on family and culture. I loved it. I vacation there any chance I get.”
He wraps his arms around my neck, our chests pressed against each other. “So, when are we going?”
“As soon as you can get the vacation days. Or you can quit. I’m willing to take care of you, Hill Washington.”
He smiles but shakes his head. “Believe it or not, I like being an investigative journalist. I’ve uncovered a lot of shit, brought a lot of people to justice.
It’s dangerous and the stakes are high, but I fucking love it.
” He pauses, eyes twinkling. “And I kill anyone that comes after me, so I kind of have a reputation of being the journalist of death.”
I mock gasp. “Does that mean I’m next?”
“Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere.”
Growling, I roll him under me and kiss him slowly, re-memorizing the taste of his mouth.
God, he’s sweet, the best thing I’ve ever had on my tongue.
I settle between his legs, rutting against him, our hard dicks pressing against each other.
I reach down to slide my hand into his waistband, to wrap my fingers around his hard shaft, when there’s a knock at the door.
“Gentlemen, we’ll be reaching our destination in twenty minutes,” our flight attendant says. “The captain needs you to return to your seats to prepare for landing.”
I huff and Hill laughs. “Good thing we’re already members of the Mile High Club.”
Rolling off him with a chuckle, I pull Hill out of bed, and we head to the front of the plane.
Twenty minutes later, the jet’s wheels touch down on the tarmac.
Home sweet home.
When the engine is turned off and the pilot and flight attendant wish us goodbye, Hill and I descend the plane hand in hand.
“Huh,” Hill says as he sees the car waiting for us. “I thought you had that car in green.”
“I do,” I say as the driver steps out and hands me the keys. “But you have it in black.” I turn over Hill’s free hand and drop the keys in his palm. “You did ask for it in black, right?”
He gapes at me for a moment, then says, “What the fuck, Menace! I was joking. You got me a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car?”
“Three fifty, and yes. You liked it, right?”
My little psycho shakes his head, trying to push the keys back into my hand. “This is too much, Menace. Way too much. I was kidding. People will think—”
“People will think I wanted to spoil you, so I am. Fuck what anyone has to say. You’re my man and I told you I’ll give you the fucking world. But I’ll start with a car. Besides, I can’t take any of my money with me when I die. Might as well spend it on shit I like.”
He frowns. “This money could have gone to the charity.”
“I donate half of my yearly income to my charity. And it’s way more than three hundred grand.”
Hill chews his bottom lip, looking at the car longingly. I see when he decides to take the car, a grin tipping up his lips until it’s a full grin. “Fuck, this is a nice car. Thank you, babe!” He hugs me around the neck, jumping up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Laughing, I say, “You’re welcome. Now let’s get home. I want to lie around with you for the rest of the night after you introduce me to your roommate.”
“Okay, come on. I want to break ‘er in!”
Hill runs around the car, practically coming out of his skin with excitement.
My heart soars seeing him so happy about something that’s no big deal to me.
I vow to spoil Hill as much as he’ll let me, giving him everything he asks for and more if I can help it.
Like I told him, I can’t take the money with me when I go, so he’ll share in my spoils for long as he lets me keep him.
He starts the car and it purrs to life, the soft rumble filling the interior. Hill squeals and puts the car in drive, pulling off at a fast clip. He hoots when the car goes from zero to sixty in no time flat.
I hold his hand as he weaves in and out of traffic, loving that he’s happy about something so simple.
As we get close to Hill’s apartment, my phone chimes with a distinct ringtone.
My phone will only ping like that for one reason.
Cursing, I pull it from my pocket and curse when I read the message.
Alert: Leesa Buckley. Admitted to St. George’s Memorial at 12:58 pm. Fractured ribs, broken wrist, fractured orbital bone, liver laceration.
I squeeze my phone hard enough for the screen to crack. I fucking knew he’d pull some shit like this.
Robert fucking Beningfield is going to die.
It’s been a while since I’ve been emotionally invested in a kill, but I won’t allow him to keep getting away with his bullshit just because he has money. Too many of these motherfuckers with generational wealth think they can get away with their bullshit, but not while I’m around.
I should have warned Leesa what kind of person Beningfield is, but I wasn’t sure she would have listened. Unfortunately, that fucker is slippery and knows who to sweet-talk women.
He reminds me of my father, but with more money and a chip on his shoulder.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pocketing my phone.
“What is it?” Hill looks at me from the corner of his eye.
“When we get to your place, how about we plan a murder, yeah?”
His smile makes me forget about the mistake I made with Leesa. “Oh yeah,” he replies, pressing his foot harder on the gas.