2
Erik
“Blow it the fuck up,” I say, gritting my teeth as Theo, one of my most loyal and terrifying employees, holds the piece of shit human trafficker in a half nelson. “You won’t be chaining any more girls up in that fucking basement. You’re lucky I didn’t chain you up and leave you down there.”
I look over my shoulder toward Dimitri, who stands at the ready to twist the final ignition trigger for the explosives my team packed into the corners and walls of the old warehouse where Lenny the lecher kept his stable of women and girls, smuggled in from all corners of the world.
“But I have money! I’ll pay you! I’ll cut you in!”
With a nearly imperceptible nod at Theo, I watch him flex his biceps and nearly pop the head off the sub-human pasty-faced Kevin Spacey lookalike.
“Wait, please!” He’s choking and begging now. We’re making progress.
I may not be squeaky clean—the demolitions business is legit, but in order to grow I’ve danced with some dirty demons—but there are lines you don’t cross. Enslaving people is one, and two—and bigger still—kids. Any fucking thing to do with kids and my moral compass finds true north, even if I have to put my foot straight up someone’s ass to get there.
You’d think coming down here to finish off what I would refer to as a passion project for me would distract me more than it has. Running my family’s demolitions business is enough to keep a man occupied twenty-six hours a day. Add in my little anti-hero side ventures, and every synapse in my brain should be accounted for.
But what I didn’t count on was Andrea Collins.
Fuck. It’s been 7 hours since I walked into my brother Magnus’s house for Thanksgiving dinner and saw the dark-haired beauty sitting on the countertop, swinging her bare feet and sucking on a purple Tootsie Pop.
Fucking life changing.
Lenny’s screaming and begging draws me back to the task at hand, making me angrier still that he interrupted the sweet memory of the first time I saw the girl that I’m going to marry. Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my suit pants, I take a step forward, leaning down and locking my eyes with his.
“I already have your money. It wasn’t hard to crack your safe inside, and even if it was, I would just stuff some C4 in the cracks and blow it up. Your little offshore accounts are emptied as well, compliments of some supremely talented hackers I know. But your legacy will go on. All that money went into an anonymous donation to the Michigan Abolitionist Project. All the women were taken in. They will all get what they need to start over. Ironic, it’s the money you forced them to earn for you that’s going to fund their new lives.”
I straighten my spine, rolling my shoulders as I turn away, squeezing the sides of my forehead. Then I give Dimitri the thumbs up.
The first low pop pop pop sounds like muffled gunshots. There’s five more in rapid succession, as I walk toward my waiting car, wondering what lengths I would go to in order to secure my new obsession into my life.
Would I chain her up in my basement?
The thought has occurred to me. Does that make me a bastard like Lenny?
The resounding eardrum-damaging booms push the thought from my mind as I take one last look over my shoulder at the falling cinder-block and concrete building. I pause, watching as the structure falls like a house of cards.
The artistry of a perfectly-orchestrated demolition is underappreciated.
“Throw his ass in the river!” I shout over the sounds of the last explosives and the crushing weight of the building falling into itself. Theo nods in acknowledgment, before I turn back toward my waiting car and the text messages that have become the axis on which my world now turns.
***
Back at the Foundation Demolition building, I’m barricaded in my office with an old business associate, Jackson Carter. And he’s giving me shit I don’t need.
“You keep checking that phone,” he says, “I’m going to think you’re going soft on me. Frankly, I’m surprised to find that Erik Leonard even has a phone that isn’t like something out of a museum.”
He grins, manspreading in the chair opposite mine across the desk, but I’m not in the mood.
“You want my advice, you’ll have the whole thing torn down and rebuilt from scratch. Cheaper in the long run.”
“Yeah, but you know me. I’m sentimental. Parts of the building need pulling down, sure, but it has character. It would be a shame to lose it.”
I shrug. “Your choice.”
“But it’s safe like that, right? The building won’t fall down if we just demolish the parts that are broken beyond repair?”
“My guys will check it after the demo. If there are any safety concerns, we’ll let you know. I know your feelings on that.”
Jackson is a good guy, despite being a pain in my ass right now. Normally, these sorts of details would be hashed out over the phone, or more likely by employees way further down the ladder than the two of us, but he happened to be in Detroit on other business, and truth, I think he might actually like me. Like a friend or something.
I have few enough of those, and I actually get along with him.
He’s based in New York, and one of his many companies just bought a new office building that’s been around since the forties. I can see the old-world charm in the place, but it’s in desperate need of renovation.
“We done?” I ask, going back to my phone, shaking as I type out another message.
Me: You back from the appointment with your aunt? I like to know you are back home safe.
Even as my fingers move over the keys, I wonder what sort of hold this girl has on me.
It’s something I’ve never felt. Not even close.
Sweat beads on my brow as I slide the phone to the center of the desk, holding my hands out like a surgeon checking for stability.
If I was performing brain surgery on someone, they’d be fucked.
Ironic that the one girl I’ve ever wanted more from than some quick pressure release seems to be the one girl that has zero interest in pursuing anything with me. Her answers to my messages over the last days have been polite but short.
Her lack of availability has only fueled my obsession with her.
From the second I saw her, I knew she’d been chased and objectified and lusted after until she’s become jaded in all things regarding the male species.
Are we dogs? Sure, a good portion. Me? I’ll admit, I have a reputation for it. So do most people at the top of this business. I’ve heard stories about my associates, Jackson included, and I’ve leaned into my canine side over the years, but even with my bravado in front of my brother and friends, it’s been a good year since I indulged.
I’m not sure what happened. I was pretty sure it was just a phase, but now that Andrea has taken over my brain and my dick, I’m wondering if the universe knew what was coming and needed me to clean up my shit before it delivered an angel into my lap.
The first time I heard her voice, it was like coming home. Like she’d been whispering in my ear and in my dreams for years, but I’d been deaf, dumb and blind until now.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, staring down at the screen of my phone.
“…so I thought maybe we could get together for a drink tonight, before I have to head down to Houston to hash out this other deal. What do you think?” I realize Jackson has been talking to me while I was texting, but I have no clue what he said, except meeting up for drinks.
He’s staring at me expectantly, but the only thing I care about in my life right now is my little Tootsie Pop.
I’ve never waited for a text message in my life. But since her? I’ve been glued to that fucking screen, feeling like my life hangs in the balance until I see those three little dots pop up, knowing her fingers are tapping out a reply. I hold my fucking breath until her words appear in that glorious little blue bubble.
I shake my head. “Sorry. You know how it is, work doesn’t sleep. Next time I’m in New York…”
“Sure.” Jackson shrugs as I stare at my screen, scrolling back over the messages from the last three days, pausing on a few that make my heart speed and my dick jump.
For the first time, it’s her well-being that lights me up, not just the burning desire to be inside her pussy. The force is strong there too, I can’t lie. My dick wants in there, and I already know the craving for her walls wrapping around me will never be quenched. But it’s deep down, what she’s awakened in me, that I’ve never felt before.
I want to know when she wakes up and what all her dreams were. I want to make sure she doesn’t text and drive, and that her car has had an oil change recently.
Is she eating enough red meat and taking her iron when she’s on her period?
That last one had me fucking shaking, when I went online and asked google how much iron a woman needs during that time of the month.
I’m losing it, but if this is what being lost feels like, I never want to be found. Me: I also asked you to let me know what you had for dinner last night and how you felt when you woke up this morning. Don’t ignore me, Tootsie Pop. I’ll have to come track you down.
The red button on my desk phone flashes in three rapid blips, telling me Lauren, my executive assistant, needs something.
I smash the intercom button. “What?”
My usual stoic calm has been rattled, and it’s not good for business, so I heave a ragged breath and remember what I’m doing here.
“You on your period?” Lauren snaps back as I grind my molars, resting an elbow on the edge of the desk. I grip my forehead, pressing my fingertips into my eye sockets until I see stars. “You’ve been particularly charming the last few days.”
Jackson chuckles, standing and motioning toward the door. I nod, watching him go, but I’m not in the mood for laughter. Lauren is fluent in sarcasm, and it’s something I’ve come to tolerate, but right now, my patience with everything in my life that is not Andrea is paper-thin.
“I’m assuming you want something.”
“Yeah, so two things. First, Mr. Buffalino sent a package over with a courier. It’s the final paperwork for the go ahead on that old house that’s holding up his project downtown. He wants the crew there tomorrow to demo it before there’s some other delay. He said he wouldn’t put it past the old lady and her niece to chain themselves to the porch or something.” I nod as though she can see me, but after eight years together, it’s almost like she can see through the walls. “Then,” Her voice changes, the pitch rising with an unusual hint of humor, “you have a visitor. She says she has an appointment, but there’s nothing on your calendar. She said to tell you she’s here to deliver a grape flavored Tootsie Pop, whatever the fuck that means. She doesn’t look crazy, but—”
“Send her in,” I answer, shoving my chair back so hard it smacks against the floor to ceiling window behind me, which offers an amazing view of the Detroit River and the Canadian Club sign on the other side.
I’m on my feet in a breath, lunging around the corner of my desk, knocking over the chrome trash can in my rush and nearly sending me face-forward into the floor.
“Fuck,” I seethe, catching myself with a locked arm on one of the leather chairs that sit in front of my desk.
“You okay there, Hoss?” Lauren adds a little snort but knows me well enough to decode the silence that greets her, so she clicks off the intercom, leaving me checking the front of my shirt, running one hand down my tie, the other through my hair.
She’s here?
I glance back at my phone, wondering if I missed something, but there are no replies to my messages.
Four heartbeats later, after I’ve righted myself and brushed some invisible lint off my jacket sleeves, Lauren appears in the open doorway, ushering in the object of my obsession dressed in a lavender silk slip dress with an open black trench coat and knee-high black patent leather boots with six-inch heels.
She’s a femme fatale of the highest order, and I can’t fucking breathe.
I mean, I knew she was gorgeous, but it’s so much more. I didn’t know what breathtaking truly meant until right now.
If I hadn’t had to fly out on Thanksgiving night to take care of a problem at a site in Manhattan—a group of protesters that had linked arms around an old brownstone we were set to bring down—I would have followed her fucking home.
Instead, I spent the last few days dealing with the PR mess created when the cops came in and dragged the protesters off the property, only to find out one of them was the daughter of one of our biggest clients. The irony was thick, seeing he was the one who wanted the building torn down, but seems his daughter isn’t following in the family footsteps of mega structures replacing working class neighborhoods.
When I finally got in yesterday evening, I called my other problem client, Ernesto Buffalino, who has been battling with some other property owner in downtown Detroit where his next casino venture is set to start land prep for construction. That’s if he can get the court to sign off on his eminent domain petition and force the old lady out so I can come in and do the last bit of demo, freeing him to start construction.
It’s been going on for a year, but he assured me a week ago that the house was ready to come down. I needed the permits and the court order signed, and my crew has been standing by wasting time and money waiting for his ass to get things settled.
When I called him, he said he was just finishing up a meeting with the old lady, and I guess he got his way, since Lauren said the paperwork was here.
Tearing down a single house is nothing to me. But with Buffalino, you gotta put on a show. I’m down with the money I’m going to make as a silent investor in the casino as well. That’s a money-printing machine, and a deal I would not have been dialed in on if my company hadn’t taken care of a few of the larger old buildings he needed demolished in short order to get the project started two years ago.
All I’ve wanted for six months is to get this last house torn down so we can move on with the casino, pad my bank account with a few more zeros, and dial up my client list with the connections I’ll make in the new venture. It’s not without its downside. These people are dirtier than some I’ve tap danced with before, but my plan is to stay out of the deepest trenches while reaping the benefits of the contacts.
So, while I was in New York, all I wanted to do was get home and start interrogating my brother and his new wife about the angel she invited to Thanksgiving dinner who has turned my world upside down. Only, they took off the day after Thanksgiving for some private island, and Magnus told me unless the world was coming to an end, they were on do not disturb for the next two weeks.
Andrea’s lavender dress gives her eyes an Elizabeth Taylor glow. She’s as stunning as any starlet, and she moves like a dream. And honestly, I can’t be sure that’s not where I am.
Caught in a dream.
Desperation claws its way up my chest, lancing my heart with its talons, making me vow that I will make her mine by any means necessary, lest my life end.
Her dress moves against her skin with each step, the opening of the coat showing off just enough of her to turn my libido feral. But it’s more than that. I want to pull her into my lap, I want to feel her head on my shoulder as she tells me all her secrets and all the things that hurt her, so I can take away her burdens and her pain.
It’s like I’ve been doused with freezing water. I’m paralyzed. Rendered completely immobile, except for the beating of my heart and the stiffening of my cock.
Lauren snorts on an eye roll as she exits, closing the door as she goes. Everything in the room seems to disappear like the blurry background of a photograph, with Andrea as the focus.
I knew about love as a concept. I saw it in action with my parents, and now with my brother and his new wife. I’d heard about the Leonard men curse, but never did I think it was real, or that it would apply to me.
In a single nuclear burst, every cell in my body heats and I know in this instant, I’m in love with this girl. I already know I’d kill for her and that I live for her.
“Hey,” she finally says as my power of speech fails me. “Sorry to just stop by like this unannounced.”
“You can stop by announced or unannounced. I’m open for you twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year.” The words slip off my tongue in a rush, as blood pumps through my veins in throbbing heated bursts.
She’s all the light I’ve ever needed. Seeing her now, it’s like I’ve been in the dark for the last forty years, and I’m finally seeing the sun and the colors of the world.
“Well, that’s good to know.” The sweet sound of her voice is like a drug injected into my soul, making me addicted in an instant.
I knew at Thanksgiving there was something here. But having her walk through my door, seeking me out for whatever reason, has sealed her fate.
“I need to talk to you about something. Something that happened yesterday.”
She’s within arm’s reach now, and her scent grabs my balls and squeezes. It’s lilacs and dreams, with a sprinkle of cherries on top.
“I’m all ears,” I say, my thoughts turning dark as I imagine my body blanketing hers, pushing inside her, her supple flesh yielding to me as I plant myself deep, making sure she can never get away.
“Okay, well, I know we just met, but… I feel like I can trust you, and I need your help.”
She trusts me? She needs my help?
It’s like my life suddenly makes sense. But I also know, she could ruin me with a look. She could destroy me with a word. But she’s worth the risk.
“Tell me what you need, and it’s yours,” I manage to choke out, unable to keep my eyes from trailing up and down her body.
“May I sit?” She motions toward the black leather and chrome chair in front of me as I bite back the urge to tell her there’s only two places I want her to sit from now on.
On my face or on my dick.
I’m in stunned silence as I nod, and her lush pink lips curve into a smile, then I see it.
My greedy eyes are no longer focused on her for my own lust. No, anger flushes away the warm feelings and in its place is a murderous rage.
On her lip, there’s a swollen cut surrounded by a bruise she’s tried to cover with some make up.
As she sits, her purity and sweetness wrap around me, and whatever hurt her is going to have to answer to me.
“That wasn’t there Thursday,” I grit out through clenched teeth as my fingers flex then ball into fists. “Did someone hurt you?”
Just saying the words sends blades into my heart.
“No, I…” She stalls, and I already know she’s going to lie to me. I wonder what she’s trying to cover. Or who she’s trying to cover for. “I slipped and fell. You know a good lawyer?”
She smiles again, but there’s no humor there. I can tell she’s trying so hard to be strong.
Determination shines in her brilliant eyes, and I am rapt as I lean my ass against the edge of my desk. Her eyes flick toward the front of my pants, where my suit jacket barely veils the rock-hard monster underneath that is making even standing damn fucking uncomfortable right now.
“See, I have a problem. My aunt…” She pauses, wiggling a little in the chair, easing the coat off her shoulders as I reach out to lend a hand, holding it while she pulls one arm out, then the other, revealing the creamy skin of her neck and shoulders. The willowy length of her arms under the thin spaghetti straps of her dress confirms there’s nothing between her tits and the thin silky fabric. “She owns a house downtown. It’s been involved in a court case for a year, and yesterday…”
She takes a deep breath, her chest rising, the pebbles of her nipples like bullets under her dress. I want to listen to her voice and watch her lips move forever. I’m hypnotized.
A dot of a beauty mark above her lip calls for my touch. For my kiss. Her fingers curl around the arms of the chair, turning her knuckles white, and I realize she’s not here to ask me to buy some cookies for charity or sponsor her brother’s little league team.
This is serious.
“See, your company is scheduled to demolish her house. The papers were delivered this morning that the court ruled against us. Her house is forfeited to the state for some project. It’s all bullshit and the officials I’m sure have all been paid off, and honestly, you might be as dangerous as the men that showed up at the house yesterday, but I have no other options. I’m here to beg you, to offer myself, or anything I have, for you to not move forward with the demolition. To do something to stop what’s happening. I’ll do anything. Please, can you help us?”
She’s too sweet and pure for the burden she’s carrying, and I already know whatever it takes, I will figure this out for her, but now that I have a grasp on the situation, that cut on her lip and the other makeup-covered bruise on her chin make sense.
I know Buffalino. He’s not above hitting a woman or having his muscle do it for him.
Rage consumes me. The days of text messages we’ve exchanged did not prepare me for the onslaught of feelings I have for this girl.
“Sounds like you need a Daddy,” I grunt, the words before I can stop them.
They hang in the air between us as I watch her tits rising and falling with every heavy breath. She licks her lips, and then, the magic happens. She gives the briefest, most imperceptible nod.
Her agreement. Her signature on the dotted line of the deal of my lifetime. My help, in exchange for everything she has to give. And I’m taking it. God help me, but I can’t leave that offer on the table.
I will fix this for her, but there are other forces at play I need to address. The last thing I would do is put her in more danger, so as hard as it is, I’m not going to do what I want, which is to slide that dress up, spread her legs and eat my fill of that heavenly nectar that’s waiting for me between them.
“You don’t have to worry about anything ever again. You just leave it to me. Tomorrow, I’ll come for you and we will settle up.”
Her eyes widen as she blinks, puzzling through what I’ve just said. “Are you saying you won’t tear the house down? That you’ll talk to the men that we’ve been fighting and make them reconsider?”
I nod, although the details of how I’m going to fix this may not fall exactly as she imagines. But that’s not her concern.
“It means, when you say you’ll do anything…” I cup her warm cheek in my palm, running my thumb over the blush that’s climbed from her neck onto the porcelain skin of her face. “I’ll be taking you up on that anything. But, for today, you’ll go home. You’ll sit tight and wait for my call. And if I message, you are to answer me, understood?”
A sternness deepens my voice as she nods, and I release her cheek, brushing my fingers through the silky bangs on her forehead. Remembering the way she twisted her ankle at Thanksgiving, I reach down and lift her foot into my lap, start massaging the flesh, watching for any sign on her face that it’s more than just an awkward twist.
“Now, did you drive yourself here or did you take a cab?”
“I took the bus, actually.” She closes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath as I rub her ankle. Never before has massaging a swollen ankle felt so much like sex. “My car had a flat this morning and I didn’t have the money to call the tow truck to get it fixed.”
More anger. More rushing need to take care of her for the rest of her life.
The idea of her dressed like that on some grimy, shitty city bus, surrounded by God knows who leering and lusting after her, turns my blood cold.
“There will be a car waiting for you downstairs. And, here…” I let her leg go and pull the money clip from my pants pocket, reach down and press it into her hand. “There’s not much there. Five grand, maybe, but I’ll get you a card with your name on it. I’ll have it couriered over after my driver drops you off. You stay put and keep your phone next to you. Are we clear, Tootsie Pop?”
There’s a flicker of doubt in her eyes as she stares at the folded pile of bills in her hand, but after a few seconds, she’s on her feet. I help her with her coat and send her on her way.
I have things to take care of. Like making sure Buffalino, and whichever goons put their hands on her, are buried in the debris of the next building I bring down.