6. Jackson
JACKSON
Igrip my phone, staring at Ryker's text message for the hundredth time. The address of tonight's "party" burns into my retinas like a brand.
"You're obsessed, cousin." Ryker's words from our earlier conversation echo in my head.
He'd been sprawled in his office chair, looking far too amused as he pulled up the intel on his screens.
"A waitress at Lou's Diner by day. But at night...
" He'd raised an eyebrow. "She works high-end sex parties. Very exclusive clientele."
"What kind of parties?" The words had scraped my throat raw.
"The kind where wealthy men pay thousands for the privilege of being served drinks by beautiful women in barely-there outfits." Ryker's fingers flew across his keyboard. "Your little angel's been doing this for years. Built quite a reputation among certain circles."
I'd wanted to smash something. "That's how she affords the Lexus."
"Among other things." Ryker had given me that knowing look. "You've got it bad if you're having me dig into her background."
Now I sit in my Aston Martin outside the bought out hotel, watching people file in through the gilded doors.
There's some bullshit fundraiser sign outside the lobby, but that's not what they are here for.
Each man who enters feeds the rage building in my chest. The thought of their eyes on her, their hands...
My knuckles crack against the steering wheel. I've overseen weapon deals worth millions without blinking. Watched men die without feeling a thing. But imagining Aliyah in there, serving drinks in some scrap of fabric that barely covers her...
A sleek black car pulls up - a luxury car service. So she wasn't planning on driving home tonight - which means she didn't plan on leaving alone. I tense, even before I see her. I can ensure that.
My breath catches as Aliyah steps out, all endless legs and curves wrapped in a dress that leaves little to imagination.
Gold glints at her throat and wrists, and it highlights her dark skin and striking features so well it's hard not to lose myself in how beautiful she is.
She moves with that calculated grace that first caught my eye, but now I see it differently.
Everything about her is a carefully crafted illusion.
The need to drag her out of there claws at my chest. To lock her away where no one else can look at her. These possessive impulses surprise me - I've never given a damn about anyone's choices before.
But Aliyah... she makes me want to burn this whole fucking world down.
I watch two men pause their conversation to openly leer at Aliyah. Their hungry gazes track her movements as she glides toward the entrance, her hips swaying in that sinful dress. Something primal and dark snaps inside me.
Before I realize I've moved, I'm out of my car and crossing the distance in long strides. My hands clench into fists as another group of men turn to stare.
"Angel." The word comes out as a growl. I catch her arm just before she reaches the stairs.
Her eyes widen for a split second before that calculated mask slides back into place. "Well, if it isn't my favorite tough guy." Her voice drips honey, but I catch the steel underneath. "What brings you to this... charitable event?"
"You're not going in there." I tighten my grip when she tries to pull away.
"Actually, I am." She steps closer, pressing against me in a way that makes my blood burn. To anyone watching, we probably look like lovers having a moment. "Now let go before you make a scene."
"Make me."
Her eyes flash dangerously. I use her momentary surprise to wrap an arm around her waist and practically lift her off her feet.
"Oh honey," she purrs, loud enough for nearby guests to hear. Her nails dig into my forearm. "At least buy me dinner first."
I ignore the knowing chuckles from the men still watching. Every fake sultry laugh she gives, every deliberately sensual movement against me as I half-carry her to my car, only feeds the rage coursing through my veins.
"I swear to God," she hisses in my ear, still maintaining that flirtatious smile, "if you don't put me down?—"
"You'll what?" I unlock the passenger door and deposit her inside. "Seduce me to death?"
Her mask cracks for just a second, revealing pure fury underneath. "You have no right?—"
I slam the door before she can finish. When I slide into the driver's seat, she's already reaching for the handle.
"Child locks," I inform her, starting the engine. "Don't bother."
The engine purrs as I navigate through the city streets, her anger a tangible force beside me. Every few seconds she shifts in her seat, that damn dress riding higher up her thighs.
"This is kidnapping." Aliyah's voice cuts through the tension. "Have you completely lost your mind?"
I grip the steering wheel tighter, still feeling the ghost of her body against mine. She'd felt so small, so deceptively delicate in my arms. Like something precious that needed protecting - even if she'd kill me for thinking it.
I have no doubt she can handle herself truthfully. But I don't want to chance it - and I hate feeling like this.
"What were you even doing there?" She turns those sharp eyes on me. "I was kind of joking when I said you were stalking me - but are you?"
"Maybe I was invited." The lie rolls off my tongue. I do note that she doesn't even seem scared by the prospect, just annoyed.
She laughs, all bitter edges. "Right. Because you're such a… philanthropist."
We both know that no one there tonight is.
The memory of those men's hungry stares makes my jaw clench. Every protective instinct I possess had roared to life seeing her walk toward that hotel. The need to shield her, possess her, keep her...it burns through my veins like poison.
"Where are you taking me?" When I don't answer, she leans closer. Her perfume fills my senses. "You can't just-"
"I can do whatever I want, angel."
"Stop calling me that."
"Why? Because you're no angel?" I shoot her a dark look. "That much is clear. You're the damn devil in a far too tempting disguise."
Her fingers twist in her lap - the only sign she's affected. "What's your plan here, tough guy? Keep me locked up forever? Because I, what? Spilled coffee on you?"
I snort. "It has nothing to do with your petty attempts to piss me off at the diner."
"Then what?" she snaps. I nearly want to laugh. Most girls would be crying or begging to be let go. Instead, Aliyah has the audacity to snap at me.
I can't tell if she's brave or stupid. Or maybe it's just me she isn't scared of. I shouldn't like that…but I feel so many things I shouldn't when it comes to her.
I open my mouth and shut it when I realize I don't have an answer. I didn't exactly think before I took her - something that is rare for me. But I rack my brain for a fucking reason to take her with me, other than keeping other men away from her. I can't say that.
Then it hits me. Kazimir. I still need to finish my deal with him and Aliyah is a professional at getting what she wants. She could have him signing in minutes, I'm certain.
"I need to cut a deal with you." I flash her a smile, and repeat her words from the other night. "Since you like dangerous games, I'm offering you one."
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't question me. Instead, she shifts as we pull up to my house, and I note that maybe she isn't infallible. She seems to be breaking down a little right now.
I'm already scrambling for a way to fix that. I like her anger. I hate the way she's under my skin. But I refuse for her to feel uncomfortable around me.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I lead her into my house, watching her take in the minimalist décor with those calculating eyes. She moves like she owns the place, trailing her fingers along my furniture in a way that makes me want to grab her wrist.
"Nice place. Though I guess I should have guessed you would have one. Blood money and all."
I don't even react to her words. "Sit." I motion to the leather couch.
She perches on the edge, crossing those endless legs. "I don't respond well to commands."
I lean against the opposite couch, putting space between us before I do something stupid like touch her again. My jaw works, and I have to figure out how I'm going to do this.
In reality, I'm a fucking idiot. I could use anyone, and yet, I've brought her here. She's been nothing but a distraction.
"Well?" She arches a brow with that look that makes me want to throttle her - or fuck the brat out of her.
No. That right there is the problem.
"Here's the deal. I need you for something, so in the meantime, you'll stay here." Terrible idea. "And you'll stop working those parties." That I shouldn't care about.
She scoffs, and my brows lower as I glower at her. "In exchange, I keep quiet about your... extracurricular activities."
Her laugh is sharp as broken glass. "You're blackmailing me?"
"Think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement.
" I move closer, bracing my hands on either side of her.
"How long before someone discovers your side business isn't just serving drinks?
I have some people that could make your activities very public.
That your money isn't clean. I wonder how you'd do in jail? "
"You wouldn't." But uncertainty flickers across her face.
"Try me." The words taste like ash. I'd never actually do it, but she doesn't need to know that. I just need her to fall in line for me.
Why her, I wish I fucking knew. There are so many guy's girls that would jump at the opportunity to do me a favor, girls that their own man would offer up to get in my good graces.
And I picked the woman that is driving me insane. I am officially losing it.
She tilts her chin up. "You said you need something from me. What is it?"
"Your help closing some deals. You're good at... persuasion." I'm certain she could have Kazimir - a few other guys - taken care of me no problem.
Am I certain that I can keep myself under control or that she should be living in my house just to close a few deals…no. But again, she doesn't need to know.
"Why me?" Her eyes search mine. "There are plenty of other people who could help you."
Great fucking question.
"I need someone I can't stand." I straighten, putting distance between us again. "And you're excellent at getting under guys' skin."
Something flashes in her eyes - hurt? - before she masks it. "So I'm just a means to an end?"
"What else would you be?"
The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I've fucked up. Her expression goes carefully blank, but not before I catch the flash of genuine pain. It hits me like a punch to the gut.
"There's a guest room upstairs, first door on the right." I turn away before I can say anything else monumentally stupid. "Make yourself comfortable."
I wait until I hear her heels click up the stairs before retreating to my study. What the fuck am I doing? This arrangement is purely business - it has to be. But I'm already mentally rearranging meetings to keep her close. To be here and watch her myself.
As I hear her move around upstairs, I find myself thinking about her sliding off that dress, of her all alone in my bed up there, and suddenly, I struggle to stay put. I've never been affected by someone this way and she is undoing me.
And I've let her into my home.
I've just complicated my life in ways I can't even begin to understand.
What have I done?