by M. D. Massey
“Right,” she said. The toothy grin and irritated tone spoke volumes. “Well, there are several selections I can show you. Follow me.” As she turned around, he smirked about the zombie romance. It was a nice private joke.
When she showed him a selection of books, he claimed he couldn’t decide, saying he would purchase all of them. What did he care, considering it wasn’t his dime? She pointed out the cash register, and he headed in that direction. He paused at the art history section and thumbed through a few books. It was one subject he hadn’t looked into yet. He decided to grab one of those, as well.
Two female voices caught his attention. He looked down the aisle toward the register, seeing two younger women chatting. One was black-haired, who Henry pegged at maybe twenty-one. The other was a ginger-haired, pale, innocent-looking woman. He figured they were approximately the same age since they seemed tight.
The black-haired beauty leaned on the counter, which gave him the perfect view of her profile. She had a meaty ass, which Henry loved. He pictured himself grabbing onto it while fucking her against the wall.
Groaning inwardly, he shook his head. Back to work.
Henry continued his slow progression down the aisle, pretending to look at more books as he tuned into their conversation.
“I left the bar when this douchebag hit on me. I got twenty feet away and I realized he was following me down the street!”
“You went out alone?! Are you insane?!” the ginger-haired woman screeched.
“It wasn’t my original intention. I was supposed to meet my brother to have a couple beers and discuss my parents’ party, but you know how he is. The next notch on his bedpost called and he ditched his sweet sister.”
Henry smirked while flipping through a book. He liked her tone…sarcastic and funny.
“What happened?” The ginger sounded annoyed.
“So, this douchebag was following me. I turned around, waiting until he was close enough for me to kick him in the tomatoes and knee him in the face.”
Henry was impressed she wasn’t the type to scream and run away. She faced shit head-on. Brilliant.
“Holy moly! You are so lucky that you didn’t get hurt, or worse! That was beyond foolish.” The ginger crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“When you have guns like these…” She kissed her biceps, “and an attitude like this…” She put her hands on her hips, then smiled.
“Elaina, you have got to be more careful. There are all sorts of crazy people out there! You never know who or what you will run into.”
Henry knew the ginger wouldn’t be right for his purposes. She was too worrisome and mother hen-like. He needed someone carefree who did a little less thinking before they acted. Someone like that black-haired beauty.
God, he wanted to take her over that counter.
“It’s fine.” She swatted her hand toward the ginger.
“What happens if he sees you again?”
Henry had a sudden urge to filet the cockface with his favorite long-bladed hunting knife.
“Meh…” The ginger sighed at her reaction. “You worry far too much, Claire.”
He smiled. Could she be any more perfect?
“Anyway.” The ginger looked at her watch. “I have to pick up Marc. He needs to drop his car off at the shop for something or other.”
“All right. Laters, hooker.”
The ginger turned around with a quirked brow. She sighed, adding a heavy eye roll. “You be careful.” She pointed at the black-haired beauty in an aggressive manner.
“Okay, Mom!” she shouted as the ginger scoffed and left the store.
Henry put the book he had pretended to be interested in back on the shelf and walk to the register. The closer he got, the more he was taken by her raw beauty. When she turned and faced the other way, he scanned the rest of her body with a few quick glances. She seemed fit, and he felt an ache deep within. He wanted to touch her face and feel her soft skin under his ice-cold hands.
He approached the counter with caution, still scanning the store. When she turned around, he sucked in a breath. “Jesus Christ…,” he mumbled.
“I’m sorry?”
He jumped a little when she spoke. Her quieter voice was sexy, raw, and raspy.
“Nothing. Sorry.” He cleared his throat and set the stack of books on the counter.
“You ready to check out?” She smiled at him. Holy fuck, she had a beautiful smile. It made his heart race.
“Uh, yeah. Please.”
She grabbed the stack of books and took a peek at what he had.
“Buying for your girlfriend?” She smirked with a raised brow.
“Uh… Yeah. For her birthday.” Henry took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. “I don’t get her desire to read that stuff.”
The black-haired beauty nodded. “This one for you?” she asked, scanning the art history book.
“Yeah. Always had an interest in it.”
Once again, she flashed him that smile. “I love art history.”
“You’re not flirting with the customers again, are you?”
They both jumped. A middle-aged woman scowled as she scooted behind the counter.
“What? No! Geez!”
Henry slyly smirked as he pulled the cash out of his wallet. He didn’t want her to see his name on his black credit card since he was trying to keep a low profile. She gave him his change, handed him the receipt, and he left the store without another glance.
She was on the top of his list…for more than one reason. All that was left to do was watch her from afar, figuring out the right time to introduce himself. Henry walked around the block, hopped in his company-issue blacked-out Chevrolet Tahoe, and headed off to work.
“Morning, bossman,” Jennifer said in her usual singsong voice as he walked in the doors.
“Jennifer.” Henry nodded at his receptionist as he walked by. “Any calls?”
“We need to set up a transfer to St. Francis. They are getting low on O and A.”
“All right. Thanks.”
Henry marched into his office, closed and locked the door. He hung his hat on one hook on the back of the door, then peeled off his hoodie, placing it on the other hook. Everything was in its proper place.
Henry’s office was the typical bright white, which he found obnoxious on those mornings he knew he should have left the bar hours and several drinks earlier the night before. The furniture was light gray, streamlined, and neat as a pin. For once in his life, he would love to be able to have a book or piece of paper out of place. But, because of his training, it was nearly impossible to allow himself to do that.
Rolling his neck, he realized he needed his fix.
Henry was the only one with the combination to the lock on his mini-fridge, his employees being clueless as to what it held. They just thought he was paranoid someone would take his drinks or food.
He turned the dial with precision and opened the fridge. Grabbing a couple vials, he shuddered, knowing what he was about to do. He unlocked his bottom desk drawer and pulled out the nearly empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, glancing over at the cool piece of steel beside it.
“Fuck me,” he grumbled. He had meant to grab another bottle before he left his place. He popped the tops off the vials and tipped them back, then opened the bottle of alcohol and drained what was left. Nothing like a lifeline with a whisky chaser.
Henry sat back in his chair for a moment, taking a few deep breaths, waiting for his muscles and joints to free up. Suddenly, erotic thoughts drove through his tainted brain, the black-haired beauty at the bookshop being the star. He closed his eyes, envisioning mounting her, grabbing her ass. He wanted to make her come around him over and over again. He wanted to hear her scream his name. He felt a stirring in his body.
“Shit.” His jeans tightened, causing him discomfort. He got up and adjusted himself. “Fuck.” Knowing his hard-on wasn’t going to go away, he went to his bathroom. He decided to relieve himself a
nd just be done with it.
Henry closed and locked the bathroom door. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, feeling better with a little freedom, and began the annoying process. Stroking slow, but firm, grasping tight on the tip for an extra burst of pleasure. God, what he wouldn’t give to be fucking that girl right in that moment. He looked down at his veiny, rigid self.
Most women he had sex with were pleased with his performance, but there he was, jerking off in his office bathroom. Fucking loser, he thought. His breathing became ragged. He choked back a moan, grabbing a couple paper towels as he grew closer to climax. He bit down on his bottom lip, his body convulsed, and his eyes rolled as he exploded into the towels. He stood still, leaning against the wall for a second, rattled.
Blowing out a breath, Henry tossed the towels away, zipped up his fly, and washed up. Getting back to work, he made the necessary calls to the hospital, walked out of his office to take inventory of what would be transferred.
The next morning, Henry arrived at the gym and scanned his card at the door. Geoff, the owner, also his usual kickboxing partner and personal trainer, stood behind the counter.
“What’s going on, my brother?” He was about Henry’s age and a little bigger; however, due to all his training in the program, Henry was far superior in the ring.
He felt Geoff would make good alliance material. He was tough as nails, strong as a bull, and easily influenced. Exactly what he was looking for.
“Nothing much.”
“Looking for an ass whooping this morning?” Geoff grinned.
Henry chuckled. “I was about to ask you the same thing. I’m going to go warm up on the treadmill for a few. Tap me when you’re ready.”
Henry walked to his favorite treadmill. It had a perfect view out the front windows and the televisions hanging from the ceiling. Not that he cared what was on TV, but it gave him something to focus on while his Nikes pounded on the belt. It was a rare occasion when he watched the thing. He was more of a movie person.
Henry grabbed a towel from his pack, feeling a tap on his shoulder. He looked around to tell Geoff to give him a few, but it was Mike, another member at the gym. The only member who had portrayed the annoying asshole role exceptionally well.
“Can I help you?” Mike wasn’t the friendly sort, having more muscles than personality. Henry wasn’t looking forward to having a conversation with him.
Mike watched Henry a lot, as if he were studying him. It made him a little uncomfortable, but Henry did the same to everyone else as he looked for alliances.
“You’re on my treadmill,” he growled.
“I’m sorry.” Henry looked around for a second. “I don’t see your name on it anywhere.” He added an eye roll for good measure, then turned around and hit the start button.
Just as he hit his stride, Mike’s hand shot out and yanked out the safety key. Luckily, Henry was quick enough to catch himself on the bars.
“What the fuck is your problem?!” Henry yelled, spinning around to face him.
“I said you’re on my treadmill. Now, I expect you to get off it, pretty boy.”
“Fuck off.” Henry turned back around. He took enough shit in training in the program. He wasn’t about to take anymore.
“What’s the issue over here?” Geoff asked Mike as he approached.
“Nothing.” Mike started to walk away, as did Geoff. Henry chuckled. Then, without pause, Mike turned around, grabbed Henry by the arm, and swung him off the treadmill. He slammed him onto the floor, back first.
The fall knocked the wind out of him, but he had fought with broken limbs, concussions, and blindfolds on before, so it was no big deal.
Blood trickled down the side of Henry’s temple, making him realize that he must have hit his head on the treadmill when he went down.
Mike got in a few punches to his face before Henry shifted into program mode. He flipped Mike over and wrapped his hand around his throat, choking. Geoff ran back to them.
“Henry! Let go!” Geoff pulled on his arm, but Henry’s grip was so strong, nothing could pry him off. “Come on, man! Shit! Vanessa! Call 911!”
After several attempts to pry his fingers from Mike’s throat, Geoff finally got him to let go. Mike gasped for air, and had pissed his pants. Geoff grabbed Henry and pulled him to his office.
“You stay here!”
Henry sat in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his face, then discovered blood all over his hands.
“Shit.” He felt around, then remembered the head wound. He hissed when he touched the spot.
Several minutes later, the door swung open, Geoff and an EMT standing there. Geoff dropped Henry’s pack on the floor next to him. “He’s going to check you out really quick. He only has a few seconds. The other EMT is dealing with Mike.” Henry nodded.
The man looked over his head wound. “Hmmm… Just a small gash. I would suggest you get it stitched up and get checked for a concussion, but I can’t transport you. We need to transport the other guy.” The EMT left the office in haste.
Geoff held out a towel. “What the fuck was that?” Henry shook his head, pressing the towel to the gash. “Your face was blank. It was fucking mental, brother.”
“I’m sorry. He just took me by surprise and I retaliated. He yanked me off the treadmill after you walked away.”
Geoff placed his hands on his hips, frowning. “Are you some fucking bionic man or something? How the hell did you do that? They think you crushed his larynx. They had to trach him.”
Henry shut his eyes for a second. “Christ. I didn’t mean for that to happen. He fucking attacked me, though. Let’s just say my self-defense training goes far deeper than you realize.”
“Remind me not to piss you off.”
“Suppose I need to find another gym.” Henry sighed.
“No. You’re cool. He’s the one who initiated. The way I look at it, you were defending yourself. It may have been a little over the top, but…” He shrugged. “We’re cool. I’m revoking Mike’s membership, though. This wasn’t his first scuffle here. Police will be here soon, so sit tight. I’m going to get you a wet cloth so you can clean up your head.”
“Fuck me. Just what I need.”
Geoff patted Henry’s shoulder. “Relax. It’ll be fine. Let me do most of the talking.” Henry nodded. What Geoff didn’t realize was that he could talk himself out of most situations, but he was going to allow Geoff to take care of it this time.
Henry grabbed his phone out of his pack.
“New York Blood Bank.”
“Jennifer. It’s Henry.”
“Hey, bossman. What’s going on? You running late today?”
Henry sighed. “You could say that. I’m in a bit of a pickle right now. I may not be in until later, if at all. Are Steve and Sandy both in?”
“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?” She sounded genuinely concerned. She adored Henry and enjoyed working for him.
“I kind of got into a fight at the gym.”
“What? What do you mean ‘kind of’? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I need a few stitches, but I fared much better than the other guy. He’s on the way to the hospital.”
“Jesus.”
“If you are the praying type, you might want to. Anyway, the transport will be in around three. If I’m not there by then, go ahead and sign off on the paperwork. I have it all separated and labeled in cooler number one. If there are any issues, call me. I will do my best to get back to you…depending on where I am.” He worried he would be in an orange jumpsuit within the next couple hours.
“All right, bossman.”
Geoff and a police officer walked into the office. Geoff handed Henry a wet cloth.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later and let you know if I will be coming in.”
“All right. Take care.”
He hit the END CALL button and sat back in the chair, pressing the wet cloth to his temple.
The officer proceeded to ask Henry an
d Geoff what happened, asking if he wanted to press charges against Mike for the initial attack. Henry declined. The officer warned him to control his temper, saying he might be charged at a later date, depending on the outcome of Mike’s condition.
When the officer left, Henry breathed a small sigh of relief. Even though he was a smooth talker, he had still worried he would be leaving the gym in handcuffs, which would fuck up everything. He really hoped he wouldn’t hear about the situation again.
“My aunt is an ER doctor,” Geoff said. “I gave her a call. She said she would be willing to come down and stitch up your head so you don’t have to go to the hospital.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” At least that was a relief.
Once Geoff’s aunt stitched his head up, he headed home. Walking into his apartment, he dropped on the dark gray couch, cursing himself for losing control. After examining his blood-stained hands, he knew he was going to need a fix soon to combat the blood loss. Groaning, he stood, needing to shower and head to the office.
When Henry walked into the blood bank, Jennifer gasped. He didn’t think he looked that bad when he checked his mug in the mirror before he left his apartment. He had a few light bruises but, considering his perspective on injuries, his condition was no big deal.
“Oh my! You look like a wreck.” She stood. The few donors in the waiting area watched the exchange.
“Thanks. I got a couple stitches.” He pointed at his temple. “Luckily, my epic hair should hide them until I can get them removed.” He sported the disheveled hair with ease.
“Christ! Are you okay? You should just go home. We have it handled here.”
“I just came in to grab a few things, then I’ll get some food and head home.”
“Okay. You let me know if you need anything. Don’t hesitate.” Jennifer sat back down, still looking worried.
“Thanks.”
Henry rushed to his office, grabbed his ball cap, drank a couple vials, and headed back out. He was in and out in about ten minutes.
