18. Choking the Chicken
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHOKING THE CHICKEN
Payne
Present
The door to my suite slams behind me. I don’t worry about how loud I am when I dump my laptop bag on the entry table. If Ruby isn’t up by now, she needs to be.
I call for her. “Wake up, Rubes. I have an hour before I have to be back.”
She doesn’t answer, but I see the pillow and blanket in a mess still on the sofa. She worked all day at the Combover and performed for hours last night, and that was before I kept her up as she spilled her guts and more.
There were parts of last night that reminded me of when we were young. We didn’t need TV, movies, or even music. We’d get lost in each other for hours. I’d fight sleep for as long as I could just to have a few more minutes with her.
Just when I think she might have done the one thing I told her not to do, I hear the shower. I follow the sound like I’ve been lost in a desert without water for days.
The door to the bathroom is open by a few inches. What I’d do to give into every selfish whim coursing through my body and walk in. But pissing her off is the last thing I want. I sit my ass on the bed next to the overflowing bag Blake delivered this morning and wait.
I was in a hurry to talk when I got off the elevator, but the thought of her naked and wet ... that’s something I can be patient for.
I recline back on my elbows and enjoy the break from my clients for a few minutes. Then the water goes off.
And all my blood runs to my dick. This is becoming a common occurrence when I’m anywhere in Ruby’s proximity, but I’ve held out. I have not once beaten the meat since I found out she was back in town. Call it a Ruby distraction or just pure masochism, but it’s not like me.
My hand has been my dick’s closest relationship for years. After all, ejaculating twenty-one times a month reduces the chances of prostate cancer by twenty-two percent, and I’m nothing if not a freak about my health.
But the thought of choking the chicken by myself sounds lame if Ruby isn’t involved. Not only do I feel like I’m going to lose my mind, but even my prostate health is in danger thanks to her.
She must not feel like shit, because she’s humming up a storm. My gaze is glued to the bathroom door when the humming gets louder.
She screams. “Payne! What are you doing here?”
My lips pull up in the corners as I take her in, dripping wet and gripping the white fluffy towel at her tits. Her face is flushed, either from the hot water or standing in front of me almost naked. “I don’t know why you’re surprised. You’re in my room and in my shower.”
“You could’ve waited until I was done.”
“And you could’ve used the other bathroom.”
“But this one is bigger and nicer. This will be my only opportunity to experience the manor like this. And Blake is amazing, but he forgot to pack my shampoo and conditioner. I had to use yours.”
I stand. “Now you’re just flirting with me.”
She surprises me and cuts the distance between us. With the towel fisted at her tits, she bends to grab the bag with her other hand. “I don’t know what shocks me more—that you’re all of a sudden not pissed at me or that your choice in hair and body products are top of the line.”
I fist the bag to hold her in place. “I’m glad you approve.”
She narrows her eyes. “Approve of your change in attitude or your couture products?”
“All of the above. Did you order room service?”
“Of course I did. No one has to twist my arm to order food. Who do you think I am?”
Some things haven’t changed, and I like it.
We’re almost toe-to-toe. Her eyes flare when she doesn’t miss the fact I have to adjust my dick. “I have enough time for you to eat before I take you home. You’re back in The Speakeasy tonight?”
“I am. And I’m going to need a nap. You kept me up talking and drinking way too late.
” She licks her lips and hesitates a few beats.
“So, your client, the one who works for Enzo ... do I need to be worried about him? Because I’m beyond worried about Enzo knowing where I am, but I have Grandma and Blake to think about.
I can’t go home if there’s a chance he’ll follow me there.
His threats were scary enough in New York. I can’t put my family in danger.”
“I’ll take care of Ansel Reid. He was still here this morning.
It’s a long story, but I have a good reason why you won’t need to worry about him while he’s here.
And unless you want to continue this conversation dripping wet while wearing only a towel, I suggest you get dressed.
We have more to talk about. We’ll do that while you eat. ”
She yanks the bag from my grip and takes a step back. “I’m only staying for the food and fancy coffee.”
My smile spreads wide. “Whatever you have to do to convince yourself of that. I have a contact who might be the only motivating factor to keep Enzo Caruso from stepping foot anywhere near the West Coast. And if shit goes south, you’ll need a defense attorney.
My guess is I’m the only one you can afford. ”
“If I end up needing a defense attorney, I’m fucked.”
I shake my head. “I’m afraid you already are. Enzo Caruso knows where you are. You gained the attention of the wrong guy, Ruby. You’re lucky to have me.”
When she starts to question that, I wonder if she does want to continue this conversation in a towel, but there’s a knock on the door.
“That’s probably your room service. Get dressed. I need to concentrate, and I can’t do that with you almost naked.”
“I don’t know why you want anything to do with me, let alone help me.”
There’s another knock at the door, this one more insistent than the first. We need to move onto other things before we get to the issue of us. “That’s a conversation for later. The New York Mafia has a way of taking precedence.”
I’m not sure if she agrees or gives in. I let room service do their thing, and five minutes later, the woman who’s taken over my brain and my dick waltzes out of my bedroom.
She’s wearing a pair of loose jeans that sit low on her hips and a plain T-shirt.
Her wet hair is tied high on her head, and her feet are still bare.
I take a bite of a melon and talk around it. “You weren’t shy when ordering food.”
She grabs a plate and starts to dish up Eggs Benedict, hashbrowns, and fresh fruit. “I figured I’d take some home to Blake and Grandma.”
“Better than a box of donuts to avoid another diabetic disaster.” I pull out a chair and sit catty-corner from her. “Full disclosure, I hired a private investigator to go to New York to look into Enzo Caruso.”
She stops midchew to take that in before she swallows. “You can’t do that. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. They’re dangerous, Payne.”
I pick up a fork and nab a strawberry off her plate. “I know exactly who I’m dealing with. I have my own contacts—the same ones who told me Ansel Reid works for the Carusos. Only my contacts control the West Coast and have assured me the Carusos are not welcome here.”
She drops her fork like I just dropped a bombshell and gapes. “You’re involved with the Mafia?”
“Involved in the sense you’re asking? No. But I know people who are connected, and from what I’ve learned about the Carusos over the last day, my people are nothing like your people.”
“I don’t have people, Payne. I have Grandma and Blake—that’s it.
I was minding my own business when Enzo stepped in and ruined my life as I knew it.
And you’re either tied to the Mafia or you’re not.
You really are fooling the world by saving kittens and throwing extravagant weekends for your clients with your dirty money. ”
I want to laugh in her face. Instead, I lean forward and temper my tone just enough so she doesn’t storm out of here and I have to chase after her in front of my clients and all of Winslet.
“In case you didn’t read the headlines or Alice didn’t keep you in the loop like every other blue-haired woman in town does, let me catch you up on what’s been going on since you ran away from me—the dirty money ended when my father went to prison.
I’m here because I did what I had to do, but do not ever accuse me of swimming in dirty money. My shit is clean.”
She brings her napkin to her lips and pushes her half-eaten plate away before she changes the subject. When she does, she softens her tone. “You can’t get involved.”
“Why? So you can handle it yourself? Because you’re really doing a bang-up job of that right now. Your idea of hiding away in your hometown and putting yourself out there publicly to sing is probably not the right way to hide from the Mafia.”
She tosses her napkin to the table. “I don’t have a trust fund or a gated house to hide away in.
I still have rent to pay until my lease is up, and Grandma has sacrificed enough for Blake and me.
I might be back in the same room I grew up in, but I’m not going to suck her dry when she lives month-to-month on Social Security—I have to work.
You can’t get involved. I won’t allow it. ”
“It’s too late for that. I involved myself the moment I kissed you last night.”
She rests her elbows on the table, and I lose her blue eyes when her face falls into her hands. She knows she has no argument.
I go on. “Something doesn’t make sense about your story. If Enzo framed you for that murder, what’s stopping him or his dirty cops from coming after you after you turned down his oh-so-romantic proposal?”
She shakes her head in her hands before sitting back in her chair.
“I’m not going to lie, you threw me for a loop last night with the kiss, the tequila, and giving me hints of the old Payne.
But I’ve told you too much as it is. I don’t want you involved.
If something happened to you because of me, I would never forgive myself. ”