CAGED (Bad Boy Romance): THE UNDERGROUND

by Alexx Andria

  “And in the meantime, bring me a shot of Jameson.” I tucked a twenty between her tits. “Keep the change, doll face.”

  She glowered and pulled the money free, giving me an excellent view of her ass as she went to do as she was told.

  It didn’t take long before Chantel emerged, looking as dangerous as ever, hard as fucking rock.

  “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” Chantel drawled, taking my measure as if trying to decide whether to kiss me or kill me.

  When she commandeered my shot, slamming it before taking her seat opposite me, I figured the odds were in my favor that she was at least curious. “I heard Manny cut you loose.”

  Ah, going straight for the tender spots. “You heard right.”

  She chuckled in amusement. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You lack that certain something in the ring. It was just a matter of time.”

  I bit back my growl. Nothing like being emasculated by a nut-chewing ball-buster. Good fun.

  “So what brings you here? Want to drown in pussy, baby?” she asked, her smile widening but her gaze, shrewd. “Forget your troubles between soft thighs, that kind of thing?”

  As sexually pent-up as I was, the idea held merit — for a nano-second. I wanted release but I didn’t want anyone but Charlie.

  Tough luck, for me.

  If Charlie had her way, my balls would drop two frozen, blue sacs of flesh before she helped me out in that regard.

  I shifted against the discomfort. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “Oh? That kind of conversation? I’m intrigued. Give me a hint.”

  “Payback.”

  Chantel pursed her lips before quirking a small grin. “You do know how to tease a woman. All right, follow me.” She rose and led me to the back room where her office was. She sank into a leather desk chair and grabbed a cigar, lit it, and blew a smoke ring my way, saying, “You got my attention…talk.”

  “How’s it feel to hand over forty percent of your profit to Davonte each month?” I asked, knowing it would piss her off. I needed her mad but not at me. As expected, her expression darkened. “Yeah, I figured it wasn’t a good feeling. Imagine what you could be doing with that money if you didn’t have to piss it away each month.”

  “Your point?”

  “My point is…if you want out from under Davonte…you gotta take a stand.”

  Chantel smiled, cold and unamused. “Well, aren’t you the smart one. Why hadn’t I thought of that?” She took a long puff on her cigar before continuing. “Why are you really here, Damon? If you’re looking to get in my pants for old time’s sake, all you had to do was ask.”

  “I’m not here to fuck,” I growled. “I’m here to find out if you have any balls aside from the ones you lop off the men in your life.”

  “Get to the goddamn point, then.”

  Time to put up or shut up. Either I was about to sign my own death warrant or I was going to gain an unexpected ally. It could honestly go either way.

  “Davonte is running deals through Pussywillow. You’re his major hub but you’re still giving him forty percent of your business and you’re no longer his girl. What’s he got on you that you’re still playing his game?”

  Chantel’s faintly amused laugh did nothing to dispel the sudden darkening in her eyes.

  She stubbed out her cigar and poured herself another shot from a private stash of whisky.

  “I never took you for one with brains, Damon, but it seems you’re more observant than I gave you credit. What I don’t know is why. Why do you care what my deal with Davonte is?”

  “Because I think we could help each other get out from under that fucker’s thumb.”

  “Interesting. And what’s he got on you, sugar?”

  “That’s my business.”

  “I think it’s my business, now.”

  In other words, she ain’t talking until I do.

  “Manny cut me loose, I got shit-faced drunk and somehow got it into my fool head it might be a good idea to break Davonte’s nose. He didn’t agree. Now I’m supposed to bring him this girl he wants and in return, all’s forgiven and I’m on the salary as one of his men.”

  “You broke his fucking nose?”

  “Yeah.”

  Chantel whistled in appreciation, envy curving her lips. “I’d have given my right tit to see that happen. I hope it hurt.”

  “I can’t say. I don’t fucking remember anything about that night.”

  “Damn. You screwed yourself hard and without lube.” She finished her shot, wiped her mouth and said through a grin. “You know he’s going to kill you. He’s lying through his teeth to get what he wants. As soon as you deliver the girl…he’s gonna deliver a bullet.”

  “Yeah, I already figured that out.” I skewed my gaze at her. “So what’s he got on you?”

  Chantel shook her head. “Nah, you tell me why I would throw my chances in with you when it looks like you’re on the losing side.”

  “Change is coming, Chantel. Either you’re on the right side or the wrong side. I’m giving you the opportunity to be on the side of the winner.”

  “And what makes you think you’re going to win?”

  That was a good question. She was calling my bluff. Fuck it, I was living on borrowed time anyway. “Because I got someone who wants to take down Davonte even more than me and they’re gonna do whatever it takes to see that happen.”

  Chantel assessed me openly. “Such as?”

  “Terrance Johnson.”

  Her gaze narrowed in disbelief. “No fucking way.”

  My lie was a whopper. Go big or go home, right?

  “Davonte’s crossed the line. He’s trying to horn in on Johnson’s territory and he doesn’t much like that. He’s ready to swat at the fly.”

  “And how exactly is he going to do that?”

  I leaned forward, my gaze hard. “By taking what Davonte treasures most…his money. I know you’re the key to his operation. All you gotta do is cooperate with Terrance and we’ll all walk away with money in our pocket and Davonte off our ass.”

  Chantel held my stare, the tension between us growing by the second. Would she take the bait? Was Chantel just hungry enough for Davonte’s blood to throw her chances in with an unknown?

  Forty percent was a lot to cough up each month.

  There was bad blood between Chantel and Davonte…but was it enough to make her stick a knife in Davonte’s back?

  Everything hinged on Chantel playing the game.

  The moment seemed to stretch between us, lengthening by the second, drawing out the dread that I’d gambled and lost.

  Chantel broke the silence with a smile. “You’re a crazy fucker. I always liked that about you, Damon. Fine, count me in. But I want a meeting with Terrance. You set it up. Then, we’ll see just how serious this shit is.”

  Great. A meeting with Terrance Johnson…that ought to be fucking impossible.

  But I nodded as if that would be a walk in the park. “Give me a few days to make it happen.”

  “Don’t take too long, baby,” she warned with a sassy chuckle. “This offer has an expiration date and one more thing…if it turns out that you’re bullshitting me and this whole deal goes sour…I’ll help Davonte shove your nuts down your throat. Got it?”

  I rose. “Yeah, I got it. You just keep your mouth shut until I call you. If Davonte asks…you haven’t seen me.”

  “You got it, sugar dick.”

  I left Chantel in her office and high-tailed it out of the club.

  I’d gained an ally but I’d just set myself up for an even bigger fail.

  Now I had to convince Terrance Johnson that it was time to stake his claim on his biggest rival’s territory…without any provocation.

  Basically, I’d just started a war between the two biggest kingpins in Detroit.

  And neither had a clue.

  Chapter 18

  Charlie

  My eyes opened the minute I heard the key at the door.<
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  I held my breath, knowing it was Damon.

  A quick glance at the bedside alarm clock said it was nearly three in the morning.

  Where’d he go?

  Something that felt oddly territorial pinched but I shoved it away. It was none of my business where Damon went or who he went with.

  He could’ve fucked an entire block of hookers and I wouldn’t care.

  None of my business.

  But I was still scowling as I buried myself deeper into the covers, trying to pretend I was fast asleep.

  The faint whisper of whiskey clung to Damon as he stripped and climbed into the bed beside me.

  I held my breath, hoping to God he’d kept his underwear on. The bed gave and the sorry springs did little to hold up his weight as I rolled toward him.

  Our bare skin made contact and I tried not to yelp as electricity arced through me.

  The chemistry between us was dangerous.

  I tried to scootch away but it was like trying to stop a rock from rolling downhill. The man was a mountain and I was a pebble.

  “Piece of crap,” I mumbled under my breath, destroying the illusion that I was oblivious. I clarified with, “the bed, not you” but Damon just grunted and turned on his side as if I didn’t exist.

  One minute he couldn’t keep his hands off me and the next, he was practically snoring within seconds of lying beside me.

  Talk about confusing.

  What are you complaining about? Geez, girl, make up your mind.

  You know it’s bad when your internal voice was bitching at you for being contradictory.

  “Are you awake?” I ventured, unable to go back to sleep now that he was here. “Tell me what happened. Where did you go?”

  “Go to sleep,” he said, his voice muffled by the bunched pillow he had tucked under his head.

  He cracked a yawn then farted as if I wasn’t lying right there.

  OH MY GOD. How gross.

  I fanned the blankets, grumbling the whole time. “Good God, what did you eat? Did something die inside of you?”

  Damon’s sleepy chuckle pretty much put a stop to any more attempts of conversation on my part.

  If I hadn’t been more afraid of what I might pick up on the floor, I would’ve grabbed a blanket and let him have the bed all to his stinky self.

  I didn’t relish the idea of catching some strange disease out of bruised pride so I moved as far as I could away from him, practically hugging the edge, and tried to find sleep once again.

  But it was easier for Damon to catch some shut-eye than me.

  Within moments, Damon’s breath slowed as he sank into deep sleep.

  When I was sure he was out, I slowly rolled to face him.

  He was a belly sleeper, curled up with the pillow, that giant body relaxed and still.

  He smelled of cigarettes, booze and male skin.

  I should’ve been repulsed.

  I wasn’t.

  The warmth of his skin called to me, enticed my fingers to trace those back muscles, to inhale deeply the unique maleness that was entirely Damon.

  In spite of everything, in spite of wanting desperately to despise him, I wanted to draw closer, mold my body to his and soak up the strength that emanated from Damon like an energy field out of a sci-fi movie.

  God, I hate myself for wanting you in any way.

  Holding onto my virginity all this time might’ve been a mistake.

  Maybe if I’d given it up years ago, I could fuck Damon, get him out of my system and just move on, like a normal person.

  But if I craved Damon now before he’d been inside me…what would happen after?

  Just the thought of Damon being the one…it left me hot and achy like I’d suddenly caught a flu bug.

  Go to sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning.

  It was excellent advice.

  My grandfather used to tell me, “Charlie, don’t make a permanent decision based on a temporary emotion. Always let something sit awhile before you go all half-cocked.”

  So that’s what I needed to do…I needed to just chill, squash all these inappropriate sexual feelings for Damon into a mental trash can and wait for my sanity to return.

  Then, once that happened, I’ll be so happy that I didn’t act on something fleeting.

  Because, yeah, this was fleeting, whatever I was feeling about Damon.

  It was probably a kooky mix of adrenalin and fear due to the situation that made me feel a certain way when I was around him.

  I mean, look at him, he was built like a gladiator. Who wouldn’t feel safe around a man like that?

  And…well, there was something about all that male muscle that made the womanly parts in me go haywire.

  I never thought I’d be that girl.

  If I could sink to a lower level of pathetic, I’d be underground.

  But it would pass if I just kept my hands to myself and didn’t encourage any funny business.

  All temporary.

  No more fantasizing about Damon being the one to break my cherry.

  No more heart racing when he entered the room.

  No more hungering for things that will end up destroying me.

  Yep. Can’t wait.

  If I lived through this, years from now, I’d be able to look back on all this chaos and insanity and laugh, so grateful that I’d escaped with all my parts.

  Virginity included.

  The man I give myself to was going to love and cherish me.

  He was going to be gentle and kind, compassionate and refined.

  Nothing like Damon.

  That thought was comforting —if not a little bit uninspiring — at least in the short term.

  I closed my eyes and eventually, my breathing slowed as I drifted to sleep, proud of myself for averting, what would surely have been, a colossal mistake.

  Tomorrow, everything would be clearer.

  Yes, tomorrow would be so much better than today.

  Chapter 19

  Damon

  I slept hard.

  I mean, slept like-the-dead type of hard.

  And it felt good.

  I scrubbed last night from my face and immediately pushed against the rock hard erection that was my constant morning companion and turned to see Charlie still fast asleep.

  Memories of the first time I woke next to her were hard to ignore, except this time…I remembered falling asleep beside her.

  Her hair, wild as she was, floated around her head, splayed across the pillow, the sunlight picking up hints of gold in the gently curled ends.

  Charlie, I mused, such a boyish name for a woman with a face and body like hers.

  Petite but stacked, she was a wet dream come to life.

  I wanted her so badly my hands shook.

  The taste of her still teased my tongue.

  The sound of her moans echoed in my brain, banging around like a can kicked down an alley.

  A surge of utter possession traveled down to my cock, stiffening the fucker to the point of pain.

  How had she remained untouched all this time?

  She was a mystery to me.

  Hot, fiery, feisty, definitely bitchy at times…and yet, that fucking face and body were pin-up quality.

  Like I said, I ain’t no poet but Jesus, the woman could inspire a motherfucker to try to put some words together in her honor.

  No wonder Davonte was hard up to have her.

  I got it — because I wanted her, too.

  I’d never been one to spend too much time thinking of my future beyond the ring.

  I guess that was short-sighted but when you live day to day, fight to fight, the only thing that mattered was moving up the chain.

  Fuck, I should’ve seen a long time ago that Manny had been using me to push other fuckers — young studs — up the chain I’d been hoping to climb.

  Jesus, I’d been a bait dog.

  Disposable.

  Used to sharpen the skills of the kids Manny thought had potential.
>
  That stung.

  My battered pride — what was left of it — demanded blood.

  Manny had used me as surely as Davonte had.

  The only thing they hadn’t counted on was my refusal to quit.

  I was stronger than they’d anticipated.

  In spite of their efforts, I’d inched up the ladder on my own.

  Until my shoulder got fucked.

  Charlie stirred, her parted lips moving with a soft sigh as she rolled to her back.

  She was like candy.

  I could stuff anger or desire, but not both.

  My cock surged again, impatient.

  I wouldn’t take her V-card.

  But I needed a taste, something to get me through to the next moment.

  Need crashed against the knowledge that she didn’t want me and I rolled away abruptly, flinging the blankets to stalk to the bathroom.

  Taking a piss was going to be fun.

  I was going to have to lean at a forty-five degree angle just so I didn’t piss myself in the face.

  After a ridiculous amount of time I finally managed to make it happen but wrangling with my cock for a simple biological function was a reminder of how fucked my situation was.

  Well, no time like the present to wake up the princess and share the misery.

  I exited the bathroom to see Charlie awake, blankets tucked around her as if they were a suitable barrier if I chose to push the issue.

  “Get over yourself,” I said, sliding on my jeans and dropping into the one small chair in the room. “We’ve got problems.”

  Charlie blinked, perhaps in surprise that I wasn’t going to try and jump her bones, and regarded me warily. “New problems or the same ones?”

  “New.”

  She groaned. “What happened?”

  “I went to Pussywillow’s last night to talk to Chantel. She didn’t take the bait as easily as you’d hoped. I had to sweeten the deal.”

  “Sweeten it how?”

  “I told her Terrance Johnson wanted in, that he was interested in taking down Davonte.”

  Charlie paled as her gaze widened. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because it was the only way. And I if hadn’t found a way to get Chantel on the hook, she was going to go straight to Davonte to save her own ass. I had to do something. This was the first thing that came out of my mouth.”