A Matter of Time 07 - Parting Shot (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  “What?”

  “I like you in a baseball cap. It’s hot.”

  I shook my head. “You have it bad if this is doing it for you.”

  “Kiss me.”

  The man was a bit smitten, and I was sort of crazy about it.

  Once we reached the hotel, I wondered how it worked with people wanting to be close to Aaron, but Miguel’s presence answered my question. He was, in fact, not just Aaron’s driver, as I had previously surmised, but was also his personal bodyguard. He kept lookers from turning into touchers. Normally, at home in Chicago, it was just him. In Vegas, he had a team of four others accompanying him.

  Aaron Skyped with his executive assistant, Margo, and when he turned his phone toward me, I got to meet her. She reminded me of Trinity from The Matrix, except she smiled a lot and talked really fast. I had no idea one person could do all she could and never leave her office. I was thoroughly impressed.

  “I am thrilled to meet you, Detective,” she gushed. “Anything I can do for you, you just say the word.”

  “Quit it,” Aaron muttered.

  “Oh, Boss, he’s gor—”

  He cut her off by ending the call, and I poked him in the ribs with my elbow.

  “Go away,” he groused at me.

  A member of the staff of the Wynn met us when we drove up, and I was fine to just follow along with the rest of the entourage, but when Aaron stopped to point something out to me, everyone else did as well. I wasn’t used to that, seeing him in leader mode, but it was natural for him. I was uncomfortable with the attention and scrutiny, but he didn’t even notice. The only thing that kept me grounded was his hand in mine.

  The man had grabbed hold of me when we got out of the car, and not once, even for a moment, had he let go. I saw the photographers, the paparazzi, stalking him, and was surprised when he made no effort to shake or hide from them.

  “You said you were ready,” he reminded me.

  Turning the corner, we ran into a wall of flashing lights and sound: so many cameras clicking at once. It didn’t last, though. Miguel herded us into the elevator, and we rode straight up for several minutes before we reached our three-bedroom, duplex, Encore Tower Suite. I had no idea you could have a two-story suite, but Aaron had insisted on it. We stayed upstairs, as did Miguel, and the four-man security team slept downstairs. In the room, surrounded by the panoramic view, it took me a second to get my breathing regulated.

  “Are you all right?” Aaron checked.

  I nodded before taking off the cap and sunglasses.

  “You look a little freaked out there, Detective.”

  “Did you see all the photographers?”

  “I did.” He smiled warmly.

  “So, I mean, that’s was good for our case, but those pictures, they’re gonna be waiting for us at home too.”

  He shrugged. “If anyone from work recognizes you, you can tell them that you were undercover. That will take care of all of this.”

  “No,” I said, walking to the window. “Hey, uhm, we don’t gotta stay in this kinda place every time we travel, do we?”

  “We can stay any kind of place you want,” he replied quietly.

  “Okay.” I crossed my arms. “That’d be good.”

  Aaron was suddenly behind me, hands on my hips, his chin on my shoulder. “We’re going to do this, and then we’re going to get invited to Arizona, and then we’re going to go home together and have keys made for your loft.”

  That sounded good and normal. “Yeah.”

  “All of this—” He kissed the side of my neck. “—is nothing. I hardly do this anymore, and now… with us… why would I?”

  I was uncomfortable, and I got how the whole money thing could so easily become an issue. “You’re making a lot of changes for me so quickly.”

  “I don’t think so,” he disagreed, sliding his arms around me, his chest pressed to my back, his lips doing sinful things to my earlobe. “We need time, just us, and then if you want me to take you gambling in Monaco, I will. I have a villa in Italy on the Amalfi Coast that I’d love to show you, and I’d like to walk you around the left bank in Paris and take you to Hong Kong and—”

  “And what about just being there when I get home on Monday nights when it’s raining?” I inquired, worried, holding onto his arms.

  “You mean just lying around on your couch after we eat dinner?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That sounds like the best part of being with you, Detective.”

  I inhaled deeply.

  “Don’t second guess me, all right? The thrill of going to all those places is for you to see them with me. I’ve done all that, and while I’ve loved it all, what you don’t get—what no one ever has—is that I just want to share it and not have the other person thinking about anything else but how much fun it is.”

  “You don’t want someone thinking either ‘I wonder how much this costs’ and worrying about it, or thinking ‘I wonder what else I can get out of him’.”

  He tried to pull away.

  “Stop.”

  “I would never think that you—”

  “It was an example, dumbass.”

  He immediately calmed and wrapped back around me.

  “It would be impossible to have another rich guy be with you ’cause he probably already did all the stuff you’ve done, and vice versa. To impress each other, you’d just have to keep upping the ante, and that would get crazy.”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “But a guy you keep, like that Jaden, that can’t last long-term.”

  “No.”

  I twisted in his arms and took his face in my hands. “So you really are stuck with me, Sutter. Sorry, man.”

  He took hold of the front of my dress shirt. “Yeah, well. What am I gonna do?”

  I was smiling as I bent to kiss him, and he met me halfway, the clench tight and hot, and another piece of my heart left my chest to go live in his. I couldn’t stop the inexorable falling anymore. Aaron Sutter was the one, and no other would do.

  After we changed, him into what appeared to be just another suit, and me into something a bit outside my comfort zone—the dress pants way too tight, the silk shirt hugging my chest and abdomen—we left the room and walked the strip to another hotel to show up at a rooftop nightclub that had more rooms than I could imagine they needed. We sat in the back of one of them; Aaron had reserved the space, complete with bottle service. I wasn’t surprised he had friends there, or acquaintances. He knew people everywhere.

  “I called and made sure we had a big crowd so it would look more natural,” he explained in my ear as we were joined by ten people.

  “Good idea,” I replied, sipping on my bottled water. Technically, I was on duty, and no matter how much I wanted to loosen up and drink, it wasn’t a smart move.

  “You need to have at least one,” Aaron cautioned before standing up to offer his hand to a guy coming around the table.

  I smiled and shook hands and was going to just forget all the faces, as I normally did, but Aaron took a breath and everyone went quiet, even in the middle of the noisy club.

  “This is my boyfriend, Duncan. Everybody say hi.”

  It was all over their faces, the surprise and interest and sudden scrutiny. When he sat down, his hand went to my knee, as he gestured for the two hostesses and instructed everyone to order whatever they wanted.

  He never took his hand off me.

  When I reclined, his hand was on my thigh; when I leaned forward, on my lower back. He had to get up to go walk the room, and when he did, he bent and kissed my temple. Returning, I got fingers sinking into my hair until I tipped my head up. The kiss on my forehead was my reward for following direction.

  More people came, and a couple of guys, with others in tow, sat on the edge of the table in front of Aaron.

  “I wrangled invites for us to a private club,” one of them said, glancing over at me, his gaze missing nothing, moving slowly. “You can bring the flavor of the week.
”

  Aaron cleared his throat and both men turned to him. “Go ahead and go. Have a great time.”

  “You’re not coming?”

  He shook his head.

  The man who had checked me out was startled. “It’s exclusive?”

  “It is.”

  “Aaron, I didn’t mean any dis—”

  “It’s fine,” he cut him off, which just illustrated the fact that he was upset. Even I could tell. “Have a good time.” They were being dismissed. Aaron really didn’t like what he’d called me.

  “I guess we’ll go, then,” one of the guys mumbled.

  Aaron didn’t say another word, just completely ignored them.

  “Here,” he said when one of the hostesses put a dirty martini down in front me. “Try this. I ordered it for you.”

  Gin wasn’t my favorite, but this had more brine in it, which made it saltier, so I liked it better than martinis I’d had in the past. “It’s good,” I said, leaning in and kissing him. “Do I taste salty?”

  “Open your mouth and let me really taste you.”

  I grinned. “You’re kind of insatiable.”

  “I seem to be somewhat addicted to you.”

  Our eyes locked and everything else sort of stopped.

  “You should go,” Aaron suggested suddenly. “See if you get any bites.”

  “I was just thinking that.” I winked before I stood up.

  His hand in mine stilled me for a second, and he made sure to squeeze it before he let go.

  I really had to wonder how in the world someone had not wanted to sit and soak up every drop of his attention before me. How could you not want Aaron Sutter all over you?

  I went to stand at the edge of the dance floor, and after being there for a few minutes, sipping on a coke, I felt a hand on my back. Turning, I found a man I had never met before in my life.

  “Duncan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Duncan what?”

  “Who’s asking?” I requested of the handsome younger man. He was pretty: all delicate and perfectly styled. The hair, the tan, his manicure, the make-up: it all said boy-toy to me.

  “Clay Wells.”

  Bingo.

  I offered him my hand. “Duncan Ross.”

  His smile was bright as he took my hand but not to shake. Instead, he curled his fingers into mine to lead me away. “I’m Kian.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “And you, Duncan,” he said, stopping to wrap both his arms around my one. “So tell me what you’re doing here?”

  I cleared my throat. “I was actually hoping to see Mr. Wells. I wanted to talk to him about something.”

  His grin was wicked. “I’m sure you did.”

  Clay Wells was sitting in a different room, at a table where it was obvious Kian belonged on his right. When we walked up, the man, who I had only seen in pictures up to that point, tipped his head and smiled at me. “Welcome, Mr.—” He glanced at Kian.

  “Ross,” he supplied, unwinding his left arm from mine and sliding his hand up under the back of my shirt. He was probably checking for a wire, but his search was thorough, his fingers dipping into the groove of my spine.

  “Mr. Ross,” Clay Wells addressed me, getting up and coming around the table. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

  “I would.”

  He snapped at Kian, and he was instantly off me and going back to his seat.

  “Wow,” I said, falling into step with Wells, walking out toward the patio. “He’s certainly well trained.”

  “Yes, he is, and if you’d like a demonstration of his talents…,” he trailed off salaciously, “do please let me know.”

  “Not right now, but I’ll keep it in mind.” I winced. “That’s my whole problem.”

  “Tell me.”

  It was just the two of us outside by the railing with the blazing bright Vegas strip below us. Funny, but under different circumstances, I would have found Clay Wells alluring.

  He was a little shorter than my own six four, built solidly with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. Unlike me, he was not bulked with muscle, more like Aaron, with a swimmer’s build. His hair was a warm chestnut-brown, cut short, and his eyes were a lovely shade of hazel under thick lashes and brows. He was handsome in that sort of classic way, where he could easily be a pilot or a doctor or a newscaster. It still surprised me when I met career criminals because so many of them didn’t look like you ever thought they would in a million years. Mr. Wells definitely would have flown far under my radar.

  I turned to face him. “Let me get right to it.”

  “I wish you would.”

  “You don’t know me, but I know you.”

  “How?”

  “Evan Polley was my boyfriend’s brother’s friend.”

  “That’s a lot of people in there.”

  I shook my head. “Not really. I knew Evan through Max Sutter, and Max Sutter is—”

  “Oh.” His brows lifted. “You belong to Aaron Sutter.”

  I squinted at him before pivoting to walk away.

  He caught my bicep tight. “Mr. Ross?”

  “If you’re just gonna fuck around with me, I’m wasting my time.”

  His face hardened and his eyes closed to slits.

  “We both know that Evan Polley is dead. When you got wind that Aaron Sutter was going to be in town you thought, What the fuck is that about? Why is a friend of the guy I just got rid of showing up to play in my sandbox?”

  “I have no idea what—”

  “I know you need someone to take over what Evan was doing for you,” I explained. “And since I have access to a jet, as well as a helluva lot more money than he could have ever dreamed of, I thought I would throw my hat into the ring.”

  “And why would I ever consider even talking with the kept man of a billionaire?”

  “Because I’ve got bigger plans than that,” I said icily. “All I need is some startup capital, and I can walk away from spoiled little rich boys.”

  He was quiet a minute, circling, looking me over from every angle before turning to face me. “It’s a good story, but I’m not sure I buy it. How close were you and Evan Polley?”

  I made a face. “Not like that. Evan wasn’t gay.”

  “No, no he wasn’t. And you are?”

  “I’m whatever keeps me in clothes and cars and off the street,” I answered flippantly.

  “And what makes you think I’d deal with you and not your handler?”

  But I knew why, and technically, it was the same reason Aaron himself couldn’t date another rich man. “’Cause you’d have no control over my boyfriend. He could buy and sell you if he wanted. But me… me you know I want out. Me you know I want something, and I’ll do anything to get it.”

  “Really?” He sneered, stepping close, two fingers under my chin. “Anything?”

  All of them were the same, and it never failed to disappoint. You said the word “anything” and all thoughts went south to their dicks. Why not something more creative?

  “Get on your knees.”

  I did it instantly, without thought. He had to see I was serious.

  He exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. “Well, I very much see the appeal of having a man like you at my disposal. I’m sure Mr. Sutter enjoys ordering you around.”

  “Do you want me to blow you or not?” I groused irritably, my heart hammering in my chest, wondering how the hell I was going to get out of it if he said yes.

  “No, not here,” he insisted. “I just wanted to see if you would.”

  “And so, what?” I griped, standing up. “I’m just gonna get tested over and over?”

  “You’re not the only game in town, Mr. Ross.”

  “I’m the best option you have, Mr. Wells.”

  He studied me. “We’ll see.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He got close and started unbuttoning the front of my shirt.

  “More tests? You think I’m wired or somethin
g? Undercover?”

  “No,” he said with a huff as he opened my shirt. “I’ve tried all my life to have a body like yours, but I just can’t do it. Not built right.”

  I stayed still and quiet.

  “All this definition, the carved six-pack…. I’ve done everything,” he murmured, sliding his fingertip up the deep groove in my abdomen. “And I bet it comes effortlessly to you.”

  “No” was all I said.

  “Are you hard all over?”

  “Touch me and find out.”

  His nostrils flared. “I would love to, but again, not here.”

  “So if you like big men, why not have one?”

  “So far I have yet to find one willing to submit.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. They’re either body-builder types that I don’t find particularly appealing, or men far too dangerous to house-train.”

  “I see. You keep lap dogs.” I shrugged.

  “Yes, men like Kian.”

  “Well, he’s beautiful.”

  “He is, but he’s a boy, not a man.”

  My body washed cold, because even in the middle of an op, I had to know if the pretty puppy was legal. “Yeah, but he’s what: nineteen, twenty?”

  “He’s twenty-four, but that’s what I mean.” He sounded disgusted. “He looks so young. Too young, really, for my taste.”

  I was relieved; twenty-four, you made your own bed. “So you like to fuck men?”

  “Yes. Not just male. Big, strong, rugged… does it for me.” He was gazing at me like I was food. “Does Aaron Sutter fuck you?”

  “’Course.”

  The tremor ran through him, and I watched his pupils dilate. “I want to.”

  I gave him my best smile. “Let’s make a deal, then.”

  “No. As a sign of good faith, you come by my room around midnight and we’ll talk again.”

  “I can’t do that. I’ll be missed.”

  “Then make it so you won’t be.” He bit off the words, reaching up and pinching my nipple. “And make sure you have a plug in your ass when you show up. I want you stretched and lubed so I don’t have to mess with it.”

  I was annoyed, but I stood there and watched his eyes widen as he noticed the scar close to my left pectoral and then the next and the next.