Four Seconds to Lose

by K. A. Tucker

  I get a weak chuckle, but I’ll take it. After a pause, he turns to look down at me. “I was serious about that management job, when I offered it to you. You want it?”

  “I don’t know, seeing as . . .” Should I be accepting this, given the situation? Or, the situations. Not only am I leading this secret life that will force me out of Miami eventually, now I’m having ridiculously hot sex with the owner of the club. A lot of it. And he clearly intends to have a lot more, based on the scandalous shopping list he’s preparing for what I picture is a sweet old lady.

  And better not be a hot young tramp in a French maid outfit.

  I’ll ask him about that later.

  “Well, you’ve been giving me blow jobs every night before the club opens for weeks, so I don’t see what the problem is,” he teases dryly. And those rumors will likely become reality . . . “You’re not going on the stage anymore, so it works out well for both of us. In fact,” he says, suddenly standing up straight and turning to face me, “I don’t want you behind the bar, either.”

  I frown at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking.

  Cain heaves an exasperated sigh. “Just because we haven’t talked about that fucking asshole the other night doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about him, Charlie.”

  I avert my eyes but feel Cain’s harsh gaze still on me. “I’m trying to respect your privacy and give you the chance to tell me about it when you’re ready. That doesn’t mean I won’t do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”

  Panic stirs as my brain processes his words. What does that mean? Swallowing the small scream in my throat, I ask in a decidedly shaky voice, “What did you do to him?”

  Cain studies me—more likely, my reaction—for a long moment. “Made sure he knows never to lay a hand on you again.”

  “That’s a little vague.” It frightens the hell out of me. The last thing I need is a face-off with a vengeful Bob at a drop. If I do another drop. “Did you threaten him?”

  He pauses as if deciding whether to answer me or not. “Nate can be an intimidating guy.”

  Something tells me there’s more to this story. “What if he comes back and hurts you?” I’d die if anything ever happened to Cain or Nate because of me.

  Cain’s soft chuckle only increases my anxiety. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. It takes a lot to knock me down.”

  I set my forehead against the bar. Fantastic. Cain has a Superman complex. And now I know for certain that Cain can’t ever know anything about Sam. I can’t have him and Nate tossing around threats if Sam were ever to show up unexpected.

  Because Sam wouldn’t bother trying to knock down Superman. He’d simply kill him.

  “So?” Cain waits expectantly, though his tone has softened. “The job?”

  “Can you afford me?”

  “Oh?” He rolls on his elbows to face me, his smirk widening. “What’s the going rate again?”

  “A thousand an hour is what some are willing to pay.”

  “Right.” Cain starts to laugh. “You’re going to rob me blind, aren’t you?”

  I shrug. “Why else would I be here?”

  Cain plants a kiss on each cheek, followed by one on my nose, and then he lays a deep one on my lips, pulling a moan out of my throat. “You’ll be well taken care of, I can promise you that.”

  A twinge of guilt pricks at me. “How about we see how it goes. Temporary assignment, okay? We might not be able to stand each other after a week.”

  Cain shakes his head. “Sure, Charlie. But somehow I’m highly doubting that. Come on.” I get a playful slap across the ass and I beam, silently commending myself for keeping that dark, broody Cain from shutting me out. “Let’s get you some clothes and then we can go out to eat.”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Hey, Kyle!” The slightly awkward security guard offers me a crooked smile as I walk through the revolving door of the extended-stay motel, as I have every Monday morning for months now, a coffee in hand and a low-cut T-shirt on person.

  “Hey, Charlie.” He watches me walk up, his eyes appraising me. “I didn’t think you were coming in.”

  Deliveries arrive by nine a.m. and I’m always here at exactly nine fifteen. Glancing at my clock, I note that it’s almost ten thirty. It’s the first time I’ve ever been late.

  I had to get away from Cain, something I haven’t done in days. He’s been within arm’s reach the entire time and I’ve loved every second of it. Most of the time, we’re either at Penny’s or at his place. I’ve even started using the gym in his building.

  I couldn’t have him coming with me to pick up the latest burner phone, so I used the excuse that I needed clothes from my apartment. He told me to just pack my suitcase and bring everything over.

  Cain was telling the truth. He doesn’t know how to date and he sure as hell doesn’t take things slow.

  “I know. Traffic. Biscayne Boulevard is backed up with all the construction.”

  “Huh . . . that might explain it. Maybe the delivery guy is stuck in it too, because there’s no package yet.”

  My stomach clenches. He can’t be stuck in it because there isn’t any construction on Biscayne Boulevard right now, as shocking as that is.

  So, why isn’t there a package for me?

  Trying to appear calm, I let my eyes roam the lobby area, looking for something suspicious. Something dangerous.

  Like Jimmy.

  Or Sam. Would he break his rule and fly down here for me?

  “Maybe. Oh well!” I give my best ditzy girl giggle as I hand him his coffee. What does this mean? I’m sure it means something. Do I still pitch my current burner phone? Do I call Sam? I haven’t spoken to him since confronting him about the real Charlie Rourke and I have no idea what he’s going to say.

  Do I run as if the building is about to explode?

  Suddenly I feel like an easy target, as if I’m standing in the middle of an open field with a slew of guns trained on me.

  Kyle happily takes a sip of his coffee, oblivious to the danger and pretending not to be checking out my chest. I start babbling some nonsense about a party I didn’t go to on Saturday, pretending not to notice.

  All I want to do right now is get out of here.

  I don’t know that I can last the compulsory fifteen minutes. I don’t know that I can last five minutes. Luckily, I’m not forced to find out, because the trill sound of the burner phone in my pocket starts to ring.

  “I’ve got to take this, Kyle. I’m so sorry,” I offer, abruptly turning and heading toward the revolving doors as I root through my purse. The second I step out onto the sidewalk, I’m scanning my surroundings, looking for some indication that I’m being followed. I see nothing. I’ve seen nothing for a week now and I’ve been watching closely for any signs of a tail.

  On the fifth ring, I answer, clenching my muscles to avoid peeing my pants.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, little mouse. How are things?” His greeting is much more pleasant than I had anticipated. It’s as though our last conversation never happened.

  “Fine. Except the delivery didn’t arrive this morning.”

  “Yes, I know. I meant to call you earlier about that. I’m sorry if that worried you.” This is odd. He’s acting so . . . considerate. I see flashes of gymnastics trials and school plays, of Sam standing with armloads of flowers, garnering attention from parents around as the doting stepfather. Of hoisting me up onto Black Jack’s saddle with a twinkle in his eye.

  The warmth of those memories spreads through my chest, reminding me that there was a time when nothing tainted our relationship. When I thought I was the luckiest girl on the planet.

  “There are some issues with competition and we need to lay low for a while. Jimmy will sort it out, but until then, you just enjoy yourself. I see you’ve put a good dent into the money I sent to
you.”

  “I bought a few new dresses,” I lie. I went back to the bank last week to drain my secret account and a chunk of the one Sam knows about, dumping it all into a safety deposit box that I can access at any time.

  “Good. I’ll send you some more money to keep you busy. There won’t be any more deliveries of any kind for a while.”

  There’s dead silence on the phone as he waits for my response.

  “For how long?” I dare ask.

  “Months. Or longer. I may need to find another way in. It’s getting risky.”

  Another way in? What does that mean? Another way in that doesn’t involve me, perhaps?

  No more burner phones, no more drug drops, no more deceiving Cain?

  Could this really be happening? With my free hand, I pinch my forearm. I’m still here. My phone is still in my ear.

  In the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else at work. If it’s not this easy, if Sam is in fact reacting to his suspicions about me. Either way, it sounds like I won’t be doing a drop for a long time. Maybe ever again.

  That life could truly be part of my past.

  And then I could actually look at Cain as part of my future. I’ll have to tell him about this one day, of course. But, by then, maybe he’ll actually love me. Enough to be able to forgive me.

  ■ ■ ■

  I don’t walk through Cain’s door.

  I float. On a fluffy white cloud of shock and confusion and possibilities and hope that never existed before, I float through the condo, in search of a possible new future. I find it on the balcony, stretched out on a lounge chair with a book.

  Cain looks up to see me standing over him. “Charlie?” He watches for a moment and then frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  Pushing the book free from his grip, I force myself onto the chair to lie atop him, taking in his bewildered expression.

  And the tears begin to fall.

  Cain is beside himself, his body going rigid. “What’s wrong, Charlie?” His hands, his eyes, begin searching my limbs as if searching for a physical injury. And still I cry, only now my laughter begins to weave in, sending me into a borderline hysterical fit of sobs, as I choke back the tears enough to say, “Nothing’s wrong.”

  Cain must think I’m insane.

  Maybe I am.

  Or maybe this is what happens when you break free of a trap.

  chapter twenty-nine

  ■ ■ ■

  CAIN

  Whenever I look at her, a hot burn fills my chest.

  I don’t know how I ever lasted a day without Charlie. Both work-wise and life-wise, I’ve never spent this much time with another human being. Not even Nate, who lived with me for several years.

  I don’t even mind coming into Penny’s anymore. The place feels different. It’s not just me anymore. Now I have Charlie at my side. And those knots in my shoulders that never go away?

  Fucking gone. Like magic.

  Charlie magic.

  She never explained what happened that day she came home and fell into a fit of tears on top of me. It took me a minute to accept that she wasn’t hurt and she was actually happy, but when I tried to get answers out of her, she quickly shut me up by sliding her tongue in my mouth.

  “Anything else you think we need?” Charlie asks, finishing off another week’s schedule at my office desk. “I put the supply orders in as well. And we should have a beer delivery coming within a few hours.” She knows the distributor customer service reps by name and we’re somehow getting better service because of it, without any more of Ginger’s shows.

  All in all, Charlie is a quick learner and a hard worker. Fortunately for me, she hasn’t learned not to wear dresses to work yet. “Perhaps.” I dip down to close my mouth over that long, delicate neck.

  “What ever happened to your rules?” she teases with a giggle, throwing down her pen. “For such a stickler, you sure have done a one-eighty.”

  “New rule,” I murmur. “You’re not allowed to wear this yellow dress in here.” It’s the same one she wore the day of her interview, when she let it drop to the floor in front of me. From where I’m standing, I have the perfect view down the top of it. I’d rather have the full view. Before she has a chance to object, I have the straps pushed off her shoulders and her dress and bra pulled down, exposing those flawless tits of hers.

  “Cain!” she exclaims as I reach around to cup each one, their weight perfectly balanced within my hands. I know her body very well.

  “You shouldn’t wear dresses if you don’t want me to do this. Or this.” In seconds I have my hands at her waist to hoist her out of her chair, kicking it out of the way. I press into her, letting her feel me so she knows exactly what’s coming. “Lean over,” I whisper, pushing all the paper on my desk to one side with a sweep of my hand.

  “Everyone’s waiting for us out there,” she whispers breathlessly, but she follows orders and stretches her bared top half over the cool wood, looking over her shoulder at me with that devilish smile of hers that I love. Though she has accused me of being insatiable on several occasions, she never denies me. “Did you lock the door?”

  “Of course,” I mutter, hiking the skirt of her dress up around her waist. Round, muscular cheeks meet my gaze. I only lock it when she’s in here with me. And when she’s in here with me, it’s always locked.

  I hook a finger around the thin material of her thong and pull until it slides off and drops to the ground. Slipping a hand in between her legs, I offer her a smirk, which she accepts with a dark smile of her own. She’s always ready for me.

  I don’t waste another second, unzipping my pants as I reach into the top drawer for a condom.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, slamming it shut.

  She frowns at me.

  “We’re out.” I can’t believe I didn’t notice that. I’m going to be left with a raging hard-on unless . . . I haven’t been inside a woman, uncovered, since I was an idiotic seventeen-year-old. Feeling Charlie, skin to skin, would be ecstasy. Right now I’m thinking I don’t give a fuck. But I know I will after. On my desk isn’t how I want that first to go. “We need to get you on the pill.”

  I catch the wary expression flash over her features. It’s the same one she gave me when I suggested she give up her apartment. I understand it. She wonders if I’m crazy. If we’re moving too fast.

  In my eyes, though, there’s only one speed with Charlie. Now.

  Standing, she turns to face me. Her fingers push their way down my hips, snaking under my briefs to chill my bare skin. She pulls everything down, letting my erection spring free. “It seems you have a problem, then,” she says with a smirk. “Sit.”

  I do and she’s on her knees in a heartbeat, positioning herself on the floor in front of me, between my legs. When both of her delicate hands curl around my length, I let my head fall back and I close my eyes.

  And I wait.

  I wait in agony, knowing what’s coming, ready to explode with just the anticipation of her hot breath. She’s so good at this. She’s not nearly as practiced as Vicki and Rebecka are, but I’m happy about that because it means . . . she’s not as practiced as them. And there’s something about the way she goes about this that tells me that it’s not a means to her own satisfaction. Charlie wants to do this for me. That thought makes me almost lose it.

  When I sense the wetness of her tongue along my tip, I almost do explode.

  It takes everything in me not to go off like a thirteen-year-old seeing a naked woman’s body for the first time.

  I groan when she takes me in completely, as she teases me with her lips, her tongue, her teeth. I let my hands fall around the back of her head, gently scooping her hair up and back so I can see her face. She must hear my raspy breaths, sense my buildup, because her mouth begins working quicker, more ardently.

 
Normally I would lie back, close my eyes, and drift. But I like to watch Charlie. I could watch her doing this every day for the rest of my life.

  And I can’t help but think that I’ll never want anyone else’s mouth on me ever again.

  chapter thirty

  ■ ■ ■

  CHARLIE

  “The doors are locked!” Ben slaps his earpiece down on the bar in front of me. “Should I hand my piece to you, Miss Manager?” It’s Ben’s last shift at Penny’s. He’s putting on a big show of celebration but behind those blue eyes, I’ve caught a few glimpses of sadness. I know he’s going to miss working here.

  Shaking my head, I say, “Give it to Nate. I don’t want to touch your wax-covered piece.”

  “No?” He shoves a pretzel into his mouth, his grin widening. “What about my latex-covered piece?” Ben apparently checked out of work about two hours ago and since then has been drinking by the bar, celebrating with the regular customers, so he’s good and primed.

  “Fuck off, Morris,” Cain growls, appearing behind me to grip my hips and pull me into him.

  Ben looks from me to his now ex-boss with a smirk, as if he knows what we were doing not fifteen minutes ago in his office. “Or what? You gonna fire me?”

  “No, I’m going to ban you from Penny’s.”

  That wrenches Ben’s smile fast. “Well, fuck. I better get my fill, then,” he mutters, running over to grab Mercy by the thighs to hoist her over his shoulder. She squeals and smacks his back, though there doesn’t appear to be much force behind it.

  With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Cain dips down to kiss the crook of my neck. I’m still shocked by his willingness to show his affection so openly. It’s been a fast change but a dramatic one. And everyone seems to be accepting of it.

  Almost everyone.

  In my peripheral vision, I see China watching the display. I avoid her and she pretends I don’t exist. It’s the perfect level of interaction. I know Cain sees a side of her that I don’t see. That no one else sees. Still, I don’t trust her. I can’t help but wonder, if she attacked me as she had Kinsley, what Cain would do. Would he make a choice between us? And would that choice be me?