CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rush
O f course Jessie’s a master at sleight of hand, of changing the subject.
Thing is, I’m not Nikolai.
He taught me about saying nothing and when to speak the truth. I taught myself the art of sleight of hand, the skill of changing the subject.
First, to get away with shit, but being a fuck face, Nikolai saw everything. He taught me when to use it, when not to, and how to work the truth without lying.
My other skills I honed on others.
So, when she tries that on me, I see right through it, down into a desperation I’m not sure what to do with yet.
I’ve got a Brioni suit on, darkest blue like midnight with sunset blue plaid. It’s one of my favorites, and with the cream silk tie with the dots and the shirt with the sapphire cufflinks, I’m on fucking fire. We look perfect together.
The suit’s got edge and style, and she’s sexy, hot, and fierce as fuck. Like always.
I slide a finger along her silver piercings and ear cuff, and smile. “What do you think of your…steak?”
The place is one of the coolest in Queenstown. Swank and full of the rich and famous.
“I’ve never had a mushroom like this before.”
“Told you, it’s good. This place is great.”
She leans in, having deftly turned my question earlier about what had her upset and who was on the other end of the call into asking me about dessert and if people are looking at her.
I have to admire a chick who can play the game so brazenly with me. It’s all kinds of hot.
Jess nods. “It’s fantastic.”
“There’s a but,” I say.
She smiles and it’s dirty, filthy sex; desperation cloaked. “But I prefer my steak red meat, bloody and delicious.”
“What about covered in sauce and drop the bloody? I’m up for food play. Should we call it a date? Reenact the food porn scene of that old movie about hats?” Maybe it’s just the song from it that has to do with hats.
She holds my gaze as she runs her finger along the poivre sauce and then sucks it off her finger.
“I’ll order a vat, drip it on my cock, and you can have as much sauce and meat as you like, baby bunny.”
“Noted. Fuck boy.”
I take a bite of my actual steak, and she suddenly switches plates.
“Hey, no fair, Jessie.”
“Totally fair,” she says, leaning in, her hand sliding up my thigh and landing dangerously close to my balls, my cock lurching. “Are you having a reaction? Parts of you are swelling up.”
“Maybe it’s a reaction to you.”
I want to push my hand under her short skirt, see if she’s wearing panties or not. If she is wearing them, I wanna know if they’re more of those filthy no crotch ones. I don’t know why she’d have more slutty panties like that—I stole her other pair—but a man can dream.
Fuck it, I’ll buy her an assortment.
I remove her hand, bring it to my lips, and kiss her fingers before putting her hand on the table as I eat the rest of her beyond delicious mushroom. It’s like a steak, Lion’s Mane mushroom, I think, grown on the premises and then brushed in butter and roasted and then seared. Served with a mushroom jus and greens. I’m fine with her eating my rare steak.
“Why were you upset?”
She flashes me a look and puts a big bite in her mouth.
I know the tactic, so I sit back, drink my bourbon and wait.
As soon as she swallows, I bring my hand down on hers, stopping her from getting another mouthful. “Earlier?” I prod.
“Does it matter?”
It does. Very much, but beyond what she said, claimed, I’m not getting more from her tonight.
“I just care.”
“You’re full of shit. And I told you, Bunny’s.”
The lie is bright, obvious, and if she didn’t lie about Bunny’s calling, she’s misdirecting because she was upset before the call.
The glitter of tears and her angry swipe of them while she texted, not knowing I stood there, tells me so.
But I ease off, and I keep the evening flirty, fun, and myself in my Good Rush mode. The one I know Nikolai wants me to wear more often.
When we leave, I turn to her, tucking her hand in my arm. “Where do you want to go?”
“Look at me,” she says. “A good, nasty dive bar.”
“Oh, I’m looking and trying not to maul you.” I lead her to our car, the motor purring, and lean her into it as I lean into her. “Look at my expensive Brioni suit. Do you know how much it cost?”
“Three hundred dollars.”
“Rhetorical question,” I say kissing her throat, right where her pulse throbs. “Try a three and a lot of zeros.”
It was about thirty k, a bargain for bespoke, but one of Nikolai’s Italian gangster buddies got me a deal.
“You were ripped off,” she says.
“I really wasn’t. So, me in this suit, we go high end.”
She trails a hand down my tie and unbuttons the single-breasted jacket, her fingers smoothing over the waistcoat to the top button of my pants.
Fuck, I’m hard.
“A dive could have merits.”
“I have merits, Jessie. We go high end.” I want to see if the rough dudes who are hanging about and sticking out in this part of town, follow. “I know a great bar.”
“Dark jazz bar,” she says.
“I’m not into jazz. How about trendy?”
“How about I put on a strap-on and claim your ass?”
“You can try. The winner gets to fuck the other with the strap-on and his cock.” The thrill of a threesome without the bother of an extra man. I’m not sure she wants to eat out another girl, but if she does, I’m there, and— “I’ll get some sex toys for you.”
“So I can use them on you?”
I open the car and bundle her in because the conversation on the busy street was about to end in indecent conduct charges.
“How about this?” I ask. “We do my thing for the first half and you can end the evening anywhere you like. Deal?”
“Deal.”
T he cool and trendy places give way to high end exclusive clubs I hate. I didn’t always hate them, and I still do frequent them, but apart from picking up for mindless sex, they no longer hold the thrill they did when I was underage and had something to prove.
So, yeah, I’m here on a mission. And I still hate these places. With Jess, though, not so much. She’s fucking fun. Her spot-on observations about the poseurs make me laugh. I do avoid the few places I meet with friends, because Jess isn’t someone I want to share. She’s mine. For all intents and purposes, she’s fucking mine.
“How do you deal with these places?” she asks as I order her a tequila cocktail, one with an umbrella of girly proportions.
“By bringing the hottest girl I can find.” I pop the cherry between her lips. “Bite.”
“Your fingers?”
“The cherry.”
She does, and I eat the other half, watching as she swallows, her tongue touching her lips.
Jess raises a brow. “Disappointed?” she asks.
I grin as my phone buzzes. “Delighted.”
I pull the phone free and it’s Fred, who’s driving. I didn’t ask for the extra protection, but that’s what he is. His message confirms my suspicions.
The rough dudes are definitely following.
Sliding the phone away, I pick up my bourbon on the rocks that has her umbrella in it. I grin, move it to the side, and take a swallow.
That isn’t the way to get me. At all.
“You’re right, the umbrella’s pretty in my drink.” I lean in. “Almost as pretty as you.”
“Don’t.” Jess says this so softly I almost miss it, except I’m too in tune with her. “Who was that?”
“Work.” I can play that game too, and tell the truth at the same time.
She glances across the room, then downs her drink. “Can we go?”
I pay up and we leave.
The ugly dudes are leaning against a lamp post, arms folded.
Sometimes they change faces, but not the patch. Didn’t she say the Ten64 was a gang gang, and not motorcycle? Because that gaggle of gang members are definite motorcycle enthusiasts.
“Are they your little gang?” I ask as we get in the car.
She should know.
Jess used to be part of one.
“I’m not with them.”
Jess doesn’t say I don’t know. She doesn’t ask who. She just denies being part of them, and that tells me a whole lot too.
So many fucking questions.
“My turn,” Jess says, twisting a strand of bright red hair on her fingers. She taps on the division and gives an address to Fred.
We exchange a look. Not our territory. It’s neutral, a pocket that’s close to our shit, but a natural bubble of no man’s land Nikolai allows to have natural growth and competition. I change to a street over.
“You said—”
“Same thing, Jessie,” I say. “Just right territory. And right now we want the right territory.”
“Fine.”
Fuck is she intriguing.
She’s flirted with the hard-edged underbelly most of her life, and the story in my head’s one Nikolai would smack me for.
I see a girl who grew up in a heartless system, tossed around, trying to protect her younger brother. Their mother was either unlucky or a bit of a good time girl to pop out two unwanted kids basically back to back. Make that a careless good time girl. Probably one into sex for money and drugs.
I see a girl who went into a rough life of sex and violence and survived, protected.
In my head, I see someone who recoils from gentleness because she finds it suspicious. A girl who fights because she doesn’t know how to do anything else.
I see a girl I want.
We cross neighborhoods, heading to the rough biker titty bars on Nikolai’s payroll. Places I have to visit to collect from tomorrow, anyway.
The bar’s high on sleaze and low on safety. Unless you’re Nikolai, Rose, or me.
A hot girl’s working the pole, and as we sit, I judge exactly how long to ignore Jess before she makes good on the threat of stabbing me.
About three minutes.
Then, I turn and kiss her and hold her hand like we’re at the movies.
It throws her completely off balance. Takes her five minutes to slowly relax.
Me? I fucking love holding her hand. “She’s pretty good, don’t you think, Jess?”
“She’s all right.” She sniffs and orders the house tequila from the topless waitress for both of us.
When it comes, it’s clearly top shelf and I cheers the burly, scarred man in leather with his hands all over a basically naked girl. She’s wearing a G-string, but it doesn’t cover much, and his fingers start digging around in there.
“Are you doing a drinks equivalent high five to a guy who’s finger fucking a girl?” Jess asks.
“Thanking him for the drinks. He’s the manager.”
“I’m not a perk, just so you know.”
“Said the pretty little venomous spider to the…wasp?”
“Because they sting? I’m sure a spider could take a wasp.”
I think about it. “Depends on the size of the wasp.”
“Depends on the spider.”
“Now, you’re fun at parties, I can tell,” I say, and I kiss her.
She melts, then pulls back, darting a look around.
Jess clearly knows a few bikers in here. They give her double and triple looks.
We stay through a few drinks, and sure enough, a couple of fugly dudes with familiar patches come in.
The air changes when they do, becomes charged in a way I don’t like. But it’s also time to go; it’s getting to that hour when the clientele changes. “We should go, Jess. Get you tucked up.”
“Fine,” she says, letting me tuck her hand in my arm again.
Interesting. Almost like she wants others to hear about our weird-ass and fun date.
When we leave, a topless young thing comes up. “Tomorrow?”
She eyes me big Fuck Me signs in lights ,but I’m not going there. The girl belongs to the bar’s owner, and I’m not looking for trouble.
In all honesty, I’m more concerned about what Jessie’ll do if I flirt back with the girl over the feelings of a biker prick who likes to kill to get his way if I reject his offering.
Because that’s what the girl is, an offering. Her wanting to be served up is neither here nor there.
“Tomorrow,” I say, and I lead Jess out to the car.
“I suppose,” Jess says as we pull up in front of the mansion, “you want me to blow you.”
I lead her inside, then I pin her to the wall, taking her face in my hands. “Jessie, I’m not gonna lie. With a mouth as talented as yours, I’m always going to want a blow job.”
Her eyes glitter.
I kiss her deep, and my head spins as I come up for air.
“But not tonight. I’ll see you home.”
“Home?”
I deposit her at her room and go to mine, and I don’t look back.
Closing my eyes a moment, I take a breath, then strip down and shower and think over the evening.
So I played it hybrid-Nikolai tonight. A mix of us both. On the surface I learned nothing, and I might have once been all end of story with that. But Nikolai would see the bigger picture.
The look.
Desperation.
Her best—for her—behavior.
They’re both just below the surface explanatory. If someone has something on her, it explains the desperation and her being a good girl.
But what if one led into the other?
What if the desperation is deep-seated?
Nikolai thinks she’s working for someone. That would be the Ten64, since they’re the only new players around.
And they were the ones following, the ones she both wanted to see us together and to keep out of their way. It was a fine piece of craft on her part, wanting the darker parts of Queenstown to hide in and also the kind of places they’d go, as well as not fighting me over the flashy rich places.
What do they have over her?
Jessie’s not evil. I feel that and not just with my dick.
Jess is…complicated, and she likes me. Which means something.
I step out of the shower and dry off, pulling on clean boxer briefs to sleep in.
Tomorrow, I’ve got a lot on my agenda. I can take some extra stops, find out more about her. There are people I could ask, twist their arms, threaten. There always are. But with Jess, I think the primary source is best.
Time, I think, to pump the girl for information.
Any way I can.
J ess is beyond furious. I know what she wanted when we got back the other night—hard, filthy sex—and fuck did I want that too, but I’m keeping my distance.
I need to create that, any way I can.
And fucking her?
It just makes me want to go there more and more.
So, I’ve been spending time in the garage, babying my custom motorcycle, kinda like how Nikolai does with his vintage tunnel-roof coupe Stingray corvette. Man, I know all the deets on that.
Like how he hides the keys from me.
And how I was allowed to drive it once, when Rose—
He doesn’t fix it up constantly, or hover over it the way some people would with a sweet black beauty like the Stingray. It runs perfectly, and he got it there. I’ve got memories of him fixing it up, from when I was small. They’re like snapshots.
But he treats it like a cherished lover, like the owner of his heart. No. Actually, he almost does that, because I’ve seen him with Rose. She owns his heart. The car, the cat and me are all close seconds.
I love the car. The man drives it when he can, but I’m not allowed near it.
I’ve got a sweet red corvette he had me put work into, but he bought it for me.
The bike though, that’s mine.
I’m itching for a ride, not sure why. But it does mean I spend less time in the mansion and more time out of the way of spiky Jess temptation.
It helps that stepping into Nikolai’s shoes is hard work. That shit I can do. Talking to people, breaking skulls if I need to—I don’t need to, though there’s lip in low places I don’t like. Lip I just note because they pay up, but it’s grudging, and I can’t help but note some rough-looking guys who don’t fit in those places.
Biker kinda guys.
Biker kinda guys who aren’t wearing patches or cuts.
Then, there’s the titty bar where, while they’re not keeping a registrar of who’s who when it comes to patrons, there are some rougher elements.
“Should I have pushed?” That’s what I ask Fred after that visit. That’s what I ask him every time.
“No.” It’s a pat answer, one that tells me nothing and everything, because he has meetings with fucking Tony.
So I keep asking myself, am I doing it wrong?
And in the moments in between I’m thinking about her.
I resolutely change the oil and the filter on my bike.
I want to treat the leather, polish the chrome, but there’s a restlessness at play so I head to the shooting range.
Being Nikolai’s hard. Worse, now I definitely know I don’t want it.
There’s so much that goes on in the office and out in the field that doesn’t interest me. He’s perfect at this. I’m…I’m good with smaller things, the cogs and pieces that need to be greased. Sure, I’m good at fights and killing, but if I had to choose, I’d stick to what I do and leave the bigger stuff to him and sometimes, I wonder, if that makes me a fucking failure.
It’s getting late, but I keep shooting.
Why the fuck hasn’t Nikolai called from wherever he and Rose are? If they ran off…
No way would they leave Dante, the dark, evil little apple of their eye.
A movement at the door of the range catches my attention. Mia.
I nod to let her know I see her, and she waits until I finish showing the target just who’s in charge to step inside. I pull off the cancelers and look at her.
“Jessica’s movements?” she says. “You wanted to know?”
She moves well, I know that, lithe, feminine but with purpose, though…I don’t say that.
“Got something?” I ask. “She hasn’t tried to sneak out?”
I want to touch Jess, have her here. I miss the fire of our combat, the way she flirts with intent to do damage, and I miss how she shakes apart when I devastate her with a soft touch.
“No.”
Another reason to keep out of her way is to let her grow in confidence, maybe search or try and sneak off again. I’ve got people set up for that.
“She keeps trying to look at things, though. So do you want me to put more people on watch in the house? Mr. Wilder has some state-of-the-art surveillance—”
“Fuck no. She’s probably already assuming we have that. Leave the office open. Call Tony to deal with something with the guards.”
She nods and leaves.
I lock up the guns, the pleasure of shooting gone.
I just want Jess.
But I’m not getting a thing from her by flirting. I need to catch her, see what she’s up to.
In the end, I get out my motorcycle, thinking of taking off, and in fact, that might be smart. She might really search if she thinks no one is there.
And Mia’s remarkably good at staying in the background.
I leave the bike in the front of the mansion and catch Tony as he heads to the guardhouse.
“Am I fucking things up?”
“There’s no right or wrong way, Rush.”
I think that’s a…I don’t know what it is.
“Mia’s keeping an eye on her,” I say. “I’m gonna go for a ride, then stay in the guest house, maybe she’ll—”
“Play with fire?” He shifts his attention from me to the guards and gives out orders.
With a sigh, I head for the door.
For a big man, Tony gets there first. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “This is new with the girl, and between us, it isn’t his forte. Not a soft approach,” he says.
I almost laugh. “The only thing he’s soft about is that cat.” Who I think is also an outward way to show how he feels about Rose. But he’s soft with her, too. When no one’s looking. “And Rose.”
Tony just raises a brow. “He trusts you to get this done. Nikolai would be proud.”
I really don’t know about that, but Nikolai isn’t here. I head to the house and grab my jacket and dig out my helmet. Dante watches.
“Don’t you judge me. You’re just a cat.”
Dante swishes his tail and jumps from my bed, stalking out of the room, which is fair enough.
When I step outside again, I stop.
Jess is there, running her hand over my bike.
I don’t get to take it out as much as I’d like, but I keep it looking good.
She looks at me. “Nice lady you got, Rush.”
“She’s pretty fine.”
“Pity you don’t ride her.”
I come right up. “I ride her and she purrs.”
“Sure you do.”
“Come on,” I say on a whim, “go for a ride?”
She grins, holds out her hand. “As long as I’m the one driving.”
Horror grips me, and now I know how Nikolai feels about me always wanting to drive his fucking Stingray. He loves that fucking car.
“Not on your life, Jess,” I say.
She smirks. “Try and stop me.”