The Alpha's Touch Boxed Set (14 Book Bundle)

by Taylor, Tawny

  Abby understands this more than Rachel thinks. She smiles at the older woman, thinking how much she likes her, despite the fact that she is one of Devon’s clients. One he doesn’t talk about at all, it seems. One that he is outwardly wary about. But still, people run deep – deeper than you can ever imagine.

  She should know.

  “Abby, I know you are having problems with Richard – ”

  “I’m not really. Nothing I can’t handle,” Abby says quickly, not wanting her boss to think that it may not be prudent to keep her around.

  “ – but don’t mind him, OK? He has always been a little weird. But he’s not dangerous, and you have to believe that.”

  Rachel looks so earnest that Abby doesn’t want to disillusion her over her brother. She has felt the meanness in Richard more than once, and she reckons Richard is more dangerous than his sister wants to believe. But still, there is nothing she can’t handle.

  At least, she keeps on telling herself that.

  “So what are you going to do with your first paycheck?” Rachel asks.

  She is a good boss, Abby decides. No, more than good. She is great boss. She’s caring, understanding, helpful and always informative about what she knows, and she is always keen to pass that information on.

  “I don’t know.” Abby laughs. “It’s rather overwhelming. Pay my part of the rent, I guess.”

  “Where do you live?”

  Abby tells her.

  “You have a boyfriend?” Rachel asks. They have never gone personal before because Rachel sensed that Abby doesn’t much want to talk about her past, especially if Richard was around.

  “Yes.”

  “You live with him? In his pad?”

  “Yes.”

  Rachel nods. “I’m mixed on the issue of boyfriends.”

  “Why?” Abby settles into the chair. This is her chance to find out why Rachel goes for male prostitutes once and for all. She can feel her pulse ticking mildly, as it always does when there are deceptive layers in the room.

  “I had a boyfriend once. We went out together for years. We were really serious, about to get married and all that. And then he started getting weird on me.”

  “Weird?”

  “He started getting all obsessive on me. He would call me every hour I was not with him, demanding to know what I was doing. When we were together, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He was sick in the head, but I didn’t realize it then.” Rachel shakes her head regretfully. “Still . . . it’s all water under the bridge now.”

  “What happened between you and him?”

  “He freaked out on me one day in one of his explosive episodes. He threatened to commit suicide if I didn’t yield to him. I had to get a restraining order. It was ugly. I broke it off with him, of course. He moved away to Washington State, and that was the last I ever saw of him. Still . . . ” she seems to shake herself. “Anyway, I’m wary of having a permanent boyfriend now. And at my age, it’s not as easy to attract men as it used to be.”

  She laughs.

  “Are you kidding? You are gorgeous.”

  “Maybe, but do you know how old I really am, Abby?” Rachel gives her a small, sad smile. She lifts a hand to her face. “This face you see . . . this veneer . . . is all cosmetic. I’m far older than I look.”

  “Hard to believe.” Abby is not just being polite either. She wishes she can look as good as Rachel in her old age, whatever age Rachel claims or is not claiming to be.

  “Well, you better get started on spending that money on your boyfriend now. Is he a looker?”

  “Yes, extremely.” Abby flinches as she says this. “What will you be doing tonight?”

  Rachel’s eyes darken and her smile becomes wider.

  “Giving myself a little treat.”

  APARTMENT

  “I have to go out tonight,” Devon announces as he puts his fuck clothes on after they made love for the second time that evening.

  Abby lies back on her pillow. Her body is covered with sweat, and her loins have never felt so swollen and satiated. She pushes the tangled quilt off her body. After a marathon session like that, it is just too hot to have anything touch her skin.

  “Where are you going?”

  He gives her a cross-eyed look. “You know.”

  “Oh. OK.”

  She wonders when it’s going to end. Somewhere down the line, she thinks, Devon got too comfortable with the money. It won’t be easy to wean him off it. He does have a point about paying the rent, however. She had offered to pay her fair share of it with her first paycheck, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  “But I thought we agreed,” she began.

  “It isn’t fair on you,” he interrupted. “I use the lounge for my personal studio, and so I occupy a lot more space than you do. If you must, you can contribute a token two hundred dollars to the rent.”

  She knew that two hundred dollars wasn’t even a fraction of what he paid for the apartment.

  He waved her ‘buts’ away. “So spend it on our grocery money, I don’t care.”

  She bit back her retort.

  It is not just about him being generous and the fact they are lovers now. She thinks he has gotten used to being financially independent and that he likes providing for her, now that they are together. He is terribly alpha that way, though he would never realize or admit it.

  So now he is going out again to fuck some rich client.

  “What’s her name?” Abby asks. She thinks she knows, but she just wants to be sure.

  He favors her with a stare, and then decides her interest is warranted.

  “Rachel.”

  Even though she is expecting it, a coin drops in the pit of her belly. A splinter shatters in her chest, causing a visceral pain to starburst. She turns her face away from him so that he cannot see her expression.

  She hears him sigh.

  “Abby . . . it’s not like we haven’t been through this before. They don’t mean anything to me.” He sits by the bed and puts his hand on her shoulder. “Abby? Let’s not fight about this every time.”

  She can’t reply him. There would be a crack in her voice. She thought she would be over this too, but she isn’t. Not by a long shot.

  Not when it concerns her boss.

  But you knew . . . you knew, her conscience slams into her accusingly.

  Knowing is one thing, she reckons, but actually going through it –

  She wonders now how many times in the past month he has been with Rachel. Sometimes there are marks, but sometimes there aren’t.

  “I have to go,” he says gently. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning, OK?”

  All she can see is her boss’s blonde hair spilled like a fan across the pillow as Devon fucks her. And an inexplicable anger like no other builds within her as tears begin to fall down her cheeks.

  SESSION

  Devon enters the apartment building in Soho. The familiar apprehension churns within his gut, giving rise to a temporary wave of nausea. But it soon passes, as it always does.

  Horsch is nowhere to be seen at the reception.

  Devon waits patiently. In all the months he has been coming to this place, Horsch has never failed to make an appearance. It is as though the man doesn’t take his vacation or sick leave. Or maybe he only takes vacations when Devon is not around in a karmic attempt to taunt him.

  After about five minutes, Horsch makes an appearance from a room behind the reception desk. Upon seeing Devon, he scowls.

  “Bet you be wanting to see Ms. Krieg. Well, the elevator card is missing, and I have to dial the security company for the override code. They’re not replying so far and I left a message, so you’ll just have to wait.”

  “How long do I have to wait?” Devon knows that Rachel is expecting him, and she is extremely punctual by nature. He prefers to let Horsch buzz him in, but he can always call Rachel on her cell to come down to get him. But he reckons she prefers him not to.

  Horsch shoots him a glare.


  Just then, the telephone rings. Horsch picks it up.

  “Yes? Yes? It’s about time.” He searches for something on his desk and grabs a notepad. “Just hang on. Let me get my pen.”

  Another protracted search ensues. Devon glances at the elevator. One of the cars is stopped at Floor 22.

  “Got it,” says Horsch, scribbling something on the notepad. He puts down the phone and glares at Devon again. Then he punches another number.

  “Ms. Krieg? Your visitor is here.” Pause. Devon can hear a tinny voice on the other side. “That’s the one.”

  Horsch moves towards the elevators without beckoning Devon to follow. But Devon does anyway.

  “Turn around,” Horsch hisses. “Won’t have you spying on the code now, you hear?”

  Devon sighs and turns his back on Horsch and the elevator console. He hears a series of numbers being punched in. After a while, the soft swish of elevator doors being opened emits behind him.

  “Well, am I going to stand here all night waiting for you to get in?” Horsch snarls, almost comical in his dislike.

  Without ceremony, Devon goes into the waiting cab. The doors glide shut on Horsch’s thunderous face.

  MORNING

  Abby wakes up to see a shadowy figure creep into bed beside her. She can smell the sex on him and see the outline of his mussed hair.

  “Devon?” she says sleepily.

  “Hi.”

  His warm body sidles next to her under the sheets.

  “What time is it?”

  “About one,” he says.

  “You’re home early.”

  “Well, yeah, she sent me home early.”

  “How come?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe she has unfinished business.”

  At this time of night? Abby’s mind is too sleep-infested to wonder any further, so she snuggles into the warmth of Devon’s arms and goes to sleep.

  *

  The next day is a Sunday, a day Abby is not required to go into work. So they both sleep in and wake up to shower.

  The first thing she notices is the red splotches on his ass cheeks.

  “This Rachel whipped you?” she asks nonchalantly, trying not to wince as she soaps him.

  “It’s nothing,” he replies. “Just a paddle.”

  Just a paddle! She shudders at his insouciance. She has suspected that it had been Rachel who had marked him, and she is right.

  She notices something else. “Where’s your bracelet?”

  He holds up his left wrist, frowning. He never takes off that cowrie shell bracelet.

  “I don’t know. It must have fallen off. I’ll retrieve it next time, don’t worry.”

  Something in her expression must have showed her unhappiness, because he gently takes her chin in his hand.

  “Hey,” he says in a low voice, “don’t worry about it, OK? It’s what I do. Don’t let it bug you.”

  But what if it does? She bites her lip, trembling.

  He bends his head down to kiss her deeply. She opens her mouth to respond to his kiss, and he immediately darts his tongue in to explore her mouth. She closes her hand on his cock, which grows hard without her even having to stroke it.

  Which of course leads to hot sex under hard pellets of water. She can never get enough of his glorious body and his rock solid cock, even if her mind is in turmoil. Because of him, she is becoming a voracious sex addict. But only with him. Always only with him.

  She’s uproariously hungry, and her stomach rumbles, causing him to laugh as he shakes the droplets out of his fine hair.

  “Want me to fry you some eggs?” he says.

  “Some hash browns would be nice.”

  He snatches the towel off the rack. “OK. Let me get dressed first and see what we have in the fridge.”

  She knows she has stocked it well. She is having a cozy time, keeping house, and she has never been happier. If only she could let the little matter of his night job out of her mind. She will work on him. Soon, she promises herself. Soon they will have a normal life.

  She is toweling herself dry when the doorbell rings. She lets Devon, who is partially dressed in a pair of ripped blue jeans, answer the door.

  She hears a man’s voice, and then two. Raised voices. Devon’s voice, shouting back. Alarmed, she throws on a bathrobe and unlocks the bathroom door. Stepping out, she is greeted by the sight of Devon being seized by two police officers. Two other officers block the doorway, looking grim and dangerous.

  “What’s happening?” she cries, rushing forward. “What are you doing to him?”

  “Abby!” Devon struggles in the vise grip of the officers. “Don’t let them take me.”

  One of the officers takes out a pair of handcuffs. He twists Devon’s arms behind him so that he can cuff his wrists.

  “Please, sir.” Her eyes are wide with terror. “Why are you arresting him? What has he done? He was with me all night, I swear it.”

  She’s babbling incoherently, because the officers are looking at her strangely.

  “He’s being arrested for murder,” an officer says. He is a dark-haired Hispanic looking man.

  The word is like a sliver of ice in Abby’s heart.

  “Who has he murdered?” she whispers.

  “I didn’t do anything!” Devon pleads.

  She believes him.

  “Miss,” the officer says, “he is wanted for the murder of Rachel Krieg.”

  EXPOSED

  “When? When did this happen?” Abby stammers as the officer reads Devon his Miranda rights.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, I will be unable to give you that information. You can come down to the police station. But we will not be releasing him any time soon without a courthouse order for bail.”

  “Abby!” Devon struggles against his captors as they lead him out of the door. “I didn’t do anything . . . please believe me.”

  Tears spring into Abby’s eyes as she watches them disappear down the stairs, those very stairs Devon carried her up in his arms not too long ago when she was frail and shivering and in need. Now he is the one in need.

  “Do you have a lawyer?” she calls after him.

  “No,” comes the strangled admission from down the stairs.

  Of course he wouldn’t. Why should he? He is just a kid trying to make it in New York. And so is she.

  The neighbors have started to come out of their apartments to see what the commotion is about. Abby has never seen so many heads peeking out of their doors in her entire time here.

  Murder. That usually means no bail. Or a large bail. Murder is not something to be trifled with lightly.

  Abby runs down the stairs to the pavement outside, where the officers were shoving Devon into a squad car while protecting his head. The weather outside is perfect with a breeze skittering the leaves on the ground – not too hot and not too cold. It would ironically be a perfect Sunday where they would have gone out to a diner, caught a movie, and made out in the movie theatre to a film they will only half watch.

  “Devon,” she calls, “don’t say anything to anyone! I’ll get you a lawyer.”

  He can only gaze listlessly at her as the door is slammed in his face.

  *

  A lawyer. Now where the hell is she going to get one?

  Lawyers require money. So do bails. Especially murder bails. She may not know much about the legal system, but that she knows.

  Abby returns to the apartment. The neighbors have not left off their ogling. As she traipses up, her mind in turbulence, they mutter and exchange remarks.

  “What happened, doll?” A corpulent woman from the apartment across theirs calls out to her.

  “I don’t know,” Abby replies truthfully and closes her own apartment door behind her.

  She sits there on the couch, thinking for a long time. The shadows move across the room, denoting the passage of time. She feels guilty for not being there at the police station, but she knows they won’t allow her to see Devon anyway. The best thing she can do is p
lan.

  But doing the best thing right now for Devon may involve something that she is unwilling to give up.

  Her identity.

  She sits for a while longer, staring into space, staring out of the window and staring at the portrait of herself that he titled ‘Innocence’.

  *

  Monday.

  Devon has spent an entire night in jail, and there’s nothing she can do about it. She has gone down to the police station yesterday, but as suspected, they refused to let her go in to see him. The station was filled with the usual traffic of officers and perps and victims, all of who pay her no heed, so caught up were they in their own private tasks and worries.

  “Are you an attorney?” the hefty officer at the desk said with a smirk. He had to be two hundred and fifty pounds at least. No wonder he got a desk job. “Only his attorney is allowed.”

  She gritted her teeth. “You know I’m not an attorney. I’m his girlfriend.”

  “Then too bad.”

  She bit back a nasty retort. She might need this jerk’s help later.

  “Please can you tell me what he’s in for?” she begged, trying to assume as helpless and humble a face as possible.

  “You were told the rap, kid. Murder.”

  “Please, officer.” She used her beseeching eyes on him.

  He sighed. “Your boyfriend is the main suspect in a murder case which happened last night. A rich broad called Rachel Krieg was murdered in her own apartment.”

  The truth slammed into her only now. Before that, it had a different gravity because of Devon’s predicament.

  Rachel was dead.

  Rachel, her boss – who was a good, decent human being to her employees – was dead. The sensation suddenly drained out of her body, leaving her numb.

  “Why do you suspect Devon?” Her voice trembled.

  “Doorman said he was the only one up there last night. There was no one else.”