Bullet Proof: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family)
Page 3
"We have the same maid."
He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."
"We keep up on social media, but after I left St. B's, I lost track of the girls I hung out with." And there it was. You weren't supposed to lose track of the people who'd seen you through something like St. B's, but she had. She'd been too wrapped up in herself to find out how the others had faired once free of St. B's clutches.
The light changed and Taz turned left into a fast-gentrifying neighborhood that was a mix of residential and commercial with the organic hemp vendors next door to an apartment building. "Okay, walk me through this. Start with why you believe Gidget is missing and why you haven't gone to the authorities."
Bianca took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders in preparation to roll out the story, glad to be able to tell someone who actually gave a shit—and for all his denials, Taz did. She'd seen the way he talked to up-and-coming boxers at his gym, mentoring them. He was a pain in the ass, but he wasn't an asshole.
"Constance, that's our maid, mentioned in passing that one of her clients hadn't been around for a while and she needed to bring the client's French Bulldog with her when she cleaned my apartment. Of course I recognized Oui Oui—that's Gidget's dog—right away from her Instagram. I asked Constance about it and she told me that the police blew off her missing person report because Gidget isn't exactly known for staying in one spot long or for being particularly fond of authority figures. When Constance got ahold of Gidget's parents, they said they couldn't cut their trip in South America short. So that left me."
He made a right turn, keeping his eyes on the road. "And where does the art come into play?"
"The last picture she posted on Instagram was a painting, one that the Davies-Smythes recently acquired, according to the Ft. Worth society gossip. I tried to talk to them to find out who they bought it from or if they even still had it, but couldn't get past their social secretary. Then I heard about the parties."
"So you figured you'd what, interrogate them on their home field to see if they had someone you haven't seen in years locked in their basement or knew who did?" His voice rose from the low bass that made her clit tingle with every syllable to a gruff, gravelly rumble that pressed a whole different set of buttons.
Her cheeks flamed. When he put it that way, her plan sounded pretty fucking stupid. "Not exactly."
A left turn and the neighborhood began to look familiar. It wasn't her area, but she'd be able to catch a cab to her place and Mr. Bossy could go suck it.
He sighed as he played the drums with his thumb on the wheel. "Look, I'll talk to some people tomorrow."
Hope bloomed in her chest. "The cops?"
"No."
Okay. There were other options. "The MacKenzies?"
"No."
It didn't sound like a total blow-off, but it didn't sound like her kind of help either. "Who?"
"You don't need to bother with that."
Fuck this shit. So tonight hadn't gone as she'd hoped. That didn't mean she was out of options. She would find Gidget. "Because I'm just the poor little rich girl who can't possibly help unless it involves writing a check?"
"You said it, not me."
She'd been wrong. He was a total asshole. "Screw you."
His full lips curled into a smirk that could have gotten her pregnant if she hadn't been so pissed off. "Trust me, if we'd stayed at Bisu another five minutes, you would have been screwing me."
He stopped the car in front of a large building she knew well. The large sign in red loomed over the entrance: Devil's Dip Gym.
"Why are we here?" she asked.
He turned in his seat to face her, all domineering jerk mixed with enough sex appeal to make her momentarily forget that first part. "Because I'm not done with you tonight."
The need she thought she had under control slammed into her, stealing her breath and turning her nipples to painful points even as her brain sent out the Oh-Girl-No SOS.
CHAPTER THREE
Bianca didn't know if she should be glad or pissed off that Taz didn't say another word to her as he pulled his Porsche into the garage that took up the right third of the Devil's Dip Gym building. If he said one thing, she might have been driven to kiss the words right out of his mouth. God, what was wrong with her? She hadn't wanted someone this bad despite obvious Run-Away-Girl warning signs blaring in her head in...oh...ever.
He pulled the car into a spot next to a motorcycle that looked anything but decorative with its badass chrome, leather, and custom red paint job with a devil tail curling around the gas pipe. A Texas-appropriate black extended cab truck was parked on the other side.
"We're going upstairs." He got out without making eye contact, slamming the door with a swift flick of his wrist.
Okay, that was it. The man might be sex on a stick dressed in a tuxedo, but he was a giant fucking prick. She was ready for him when he opened her door and held out his hand to help her.
"I've had just about enough of your alpha-hole attitude." Despite her words, the manners she'd had drilled into her from a young age kicked in and she took his hand so he could help her out of the low-slung sports car.
The moment she touched him, everything shifted. An electric pulse of sexual awareness zipped through her, overtaking everything else. Without taking the time to consider, she drew his hand to her breast as she got out of the car. His heat, his rough touch as he cupped her through the silk dress, had her biting her bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud and begging for more.
"Don't be quiet on my account, Kitten. I want to hear you." He squeezed her breast, firm and totally in command, then rolled her attention-starved nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "You're so hot. The first time you walked into my gym, I wanted you. Do you know how many times I've jerked off thinking about you?"
Her mouth went dry at the mental image of him with his cock in his hand thinking about her. Forget that. She wanted—needed—to see it. "Show me."
Something dark and dangerous flickered in his green-eyed gaze. "What do you want to see?"
"You stroking that big dick of yours I've been feeling pressed against me all night." Just saying the words out loud had her pressing her thighs together in a failed attempt to ease the ache building between her legs.
He didn't hesitate. He took two steps back, unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them with the speed of a man who'd gone past the point of no return eons ago. They clung to his lean hips as he pulled his cock out of the slit in his boxer shorts.
She'd always been on team I Love Cock, but damn, his was fucking beautiful. It took everything she had not to sink down to her knees when he wrapped his hand around it and stroked himself slow and hard. Pre-come glistened on the swollen head and she licked her lips, imagining how good it would taste.
"When I do this, I'm imagining you naked, spread wide so I can see that pretty pink pussy of yours and how wet you are for me," he said, challenge a steel thread winding through his words.
Game on, Mr. Bossy. With her dress already unzipped in the back, all it took was a little shimmy and tug for it to be a silk puddle around her ankles. She hooked her thumbs in the elastic band of her black thong and took them off. Then, she leaned against his car wearing only her four-inch heels while he stood before her in his tuxedo, his pants open just enough to allow his cock to be free. God, he was magnificent. His black curls had once again flopped over his forehead and his light green eyes were dark with desire as he continued with the languorous trips up and down his impressively thick, hard cock.
Her body was on fire, desperate for relief, so she reached down and lifted one breast as high as she could, then stretched out her tongue and licked her hard nipple.
"That's it, Kitten." Desire made his voice rough. "Give me a show."
It was decadent and dirty and something she had every intention of doing. She wanted to see how far she could take it...take them. It was as if she didn't have a choice because her hunger for this man had taken over
and she was done fighting it.
Turning away from him, she made sure to put some extra sway in her hips as she strutted to the front of the Porsche and bent over, keeping her legs straight and spread so he could see exactly what he'd been dreaming about. Arching her back, she lifted her ass in the air and dropped her chest lower so her nipples grazed the hood, still warm from their drive. Power, desire, and undeniable need swirled through her, heightening every sensation to a level she'd never felt before. She had no clue what it was about this man that did this to her, but she loved every second of it.
"What if I added a little something to this jerk-off fantasy of yours?" She slid one hand underneath her body and slipped her fingers between her wet, swollen lips, then peeked over her shoulder at him. "Like this?"
His half groan, half growl sent a shiver down her spine.
Oh yes, just like that then.
"What do I do next in this fantasy?" she asked. It was control wrapped up in submission and it was doing things to her...good things...fucking fantastic things that had her on the edge of coming.
"You play with yourself, showing me just how you like to be touched," he said, his tone harsh, commanding.
Watching him rub his big hands up and down on his cock as she circled her clit had her so primed for orgasm that her clit buzzed with only the softest of touches.
"I can see you tightening up." He closed the distance between them, stopping right behind her but not touching her. "Don't you come yet."
Was he kidding? Climaxing while he watched was about the only thing in the world she wanted right now. "But I'm so close."
"Not yet, Kitten." He slapped his dick on her ass, pushing her that much closer to orgasm. One, two, three more smacks. "No coming until I say you can."
Her thighs vibrated, the tremors streaking up her legs. "I have to."
He reached around and grabbed her wrist, stopping her before she came. "I know what you want. You want it dirty and a little bit rough, don't you, Kitten?"
Fuck. He had her dead to rights there. She nodded.
"Say it," he demanded.
"I want it dirty and a little rough." God, she sounded as desperate as she felt. "Give it to me."
She needed him to fill her up, make her come until her toes curled and she blacked out from pleasure. It wasn't a want. Somewhere it had crossed the line into can't-live-without-it territory and she was beyond shame or embarrassment or game playing.
He tapped her ass with his cock again. "Not yet."
"Taz, please." She almost collapsed onto the car in yearning frustration even as she kept looking over her shoulder at him.
"Don't worry, Kitten. You'll get to come." He grabbed one of her ass cheeks and squeezed it, hard and unyielding, as he jerked his cock faster. "Because I love watching you come in my fantasy. Fuck...Bianca..." His body went rigid except for his hand moving so quickly it was a blur just as the first spray of come splashed onto her ass. "So fucking hot." Then a second and a third jetted out as he milked his cock, his lusty gaze never leaving her decorated ass.
She couldn't look away either. Seeing the white streams on her skin as she circled her clit made her whole body quake. "I'm so close." Even when she stopped touching herself, she stayed on the edge.
"Hold on, just another second." He scooped up some of the come with his finger and slipped it into her mouth.
She didn't think. She didn't question. She just sucked the salty liquid off his finger, her tongue swirling around it like it was his dick.
"That's it." He withdrew his finger, gathered more on the tip and brought it to her hungry mouth. "Come for me now."
It was like a dam broke in her and she cried out in relief as she circled her clit with lightning speed as she sucked his finger dry. One. Two. Three—The wave crashed against her, the orgasm hitting hard and fast and leaving nothing in its wake. Her cry of ecstasy echoed off the concrete walls as she screamed his name. This might have started as his fantasy, but it had ended as hers.
Resting her forehead on the Porsche's hood, she concentrated on catching her breath and not melting into a boneless mess onto the floor in the Devil's Dip Gym garage. Standing up was so not what she wanted, but considering how well the Porsche had been restored, she highly doubted he'd want her to curl up on it and go into a post-orgasm coma.
Calling on all her reserves, she straightened and turned to face the man who had so thoroughly rocked her world without even fucking her. "That was amaz—" The rest of the word died on her tongue. Taz's eyes were so dilated that only a thin ring of green remained around the black pupil. "What are you on?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing." He tucked his cock in his pants and zipped up. "I'm not going to tell you what to do with your life, but if you're serious about training at my gym you need to cut that shit. Now."
What the hell? He'd driven while high and he was giving her a lecture? Now that was some bullshit. "I'm not on anything. I barely even drank any of the champagne at the Bisu; it just gave me something to hold on to. You must be so high you're seeing things."
He grabbed her by the shoulders and marched her over to the passenger side door and pointed at the side mirror. "Take a look for yourself."
Bending over, she looked at her reflection and her stomach bounced against the garage floor. Her eyes were a mirror copy of Taz's but with a thin line of brown instead of green around the pupil.
Oh. Fuck.
Looking at his reflection in the side mirror, Taz muttered something that sounded a lot like motherfucker. If he hadn't taken anything voluntarily and she hadn't, that left only one explanation.
"They drugged us." The words tasted raw and ugly on her tongue.
"How?" He shoved his hands through his curly hair. "I didn't have anything to drink or eat."
The night's events raced through her mind. The doorman taking her coat. The waiters with trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The soft lighting, smooth jazz, and glistening, naked bodies. The rare orchid centerpieces that didn't have a scent. That was it. "The roses. Did you smell them? There weren't any roses in the foyer or salon."
His eyes widened with understanding. "Aerosol delivery. The Davies-Smythes walked out of the salon right before the fans kicked on and I started smelling roses really strong."
The bastards. They wouldn't get away with this. "We have to go to the police."
"With what?" Taz looked down at her, raising one eyebrow with patronizing scorn. "We have no proof."
"They can test our blood." She jabbed a finger into his chest to emphasize each word.
He swatted her hand away as if she were as consequential as a fly. "And who's to say we didn't take the drugs ourselves?"
Why did he have to be such an asshole about this? Witnesses, they'd need witnesses. Good thing there were at least fifty of them. "The other people at the party—"
"Will never acknowledge being there. They do and their invitation is permanently revoked. This is their kink, their release, they're not going to give that up without a damn good reason for it."
"Being drugged isn't enough?" she asked, her voice booming in the otherwise silent garage.
"For that crowd?" He laughed. It was not a nice sound. "Not even close."
"Nice friends you've got."
"They're not my friends," he said. "They're people I fuck."
Heat blasted up from her toes. Shame. Anger. Hurt. A deadly mix of all three. And this is why she had a battery-operated boyfriend who didn't say stupid shit that made her nose itch and her eyes tear up. Clenching her jaw tight, she inhaled what she hoped was a calming breath that would allow her to get her shit together before she grabbed her purse out of the car and called a taxi.
"Well, I guess that puts me in my place." She grabbed her dress off the floor and stepped into it before turning so her back was to him. "Can you zip me up? I don't feel like giving the cabbie a show."
He didn't move. "You're not going anywhere until we figure out what we've gotten ourselves into."
She could find Gidget and figure out what was going on at Bisu Manor all by herself. Resisting the urge to flip him off, she reached behind herself, stretching her arms and contorting her body so she could reach the gown's zipper. But before she knew what was happening, he'd grabbed the back of her dress and ripped it clean down the back seam. It fell off her shoulders and to the floor.
Spinning on her heel, she pressed both hands against his solid chest and shoved. Hard. "You asshole."
Taz didn't move an inch or say anything, but the look on his face made her take a step backward. It wasn't far enough. He wrapped an arm around her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, then threw her over his shoulder.
Shock silenced her as he carried her toward the elevator in the back.
"I promise, I won't hurt you," he said. "But you're not going anywhere until we know what's going on and I know you'll be safe."
Maybe it was because of the blood rushing to her head from being held upside down. Maybe it was because of the mystery drug running through her system. Maybe it was because her mind-melting orgasm had turned her brain into a box of rocks. Whatever it was, she knew in her gut he wasn't lying. He wouldn't hurt her—at least not physically. As for the rest, she just had to make sure she remembered the lesson she'd learned while training at Devil's Dip Gym and keep her guards up.
CHAPTER FOUR
Fucking A. What in the hell was going on?
Taz jammed the three button on the elevator while trying to understand why he'd just ripped Bianca's dress in half and carried her off like a damn caveman. This wasn't him. He'd made his fortune with his hands but he never used them outside of the ring...not like this. But the frustration and fear for her had screeched through him like a rocket powered with Nitro, bypassing any logical thought. So he'd acted on pure base-level instinct, which is how he ended up walking through the open elevator into his third-floor loft apartment with a naked—and suspiciously quiet—Bianca over his shoulder.