by AJ Adams
“Only a frigging coward rapes a girl,” DT growled. Then he looked at me and said, “Hey, I meant to ask, how did Nita do? She was working tonight, wasn’t she?”
My gut dipped and roiled. “She’s okay. There were looks and some comments, but she’s tough.”
The executive were silent, but I knew they were all thinking the same thing. Two years earlier when we’d been fighting the Alistairs, I’d hired Nita to cater an event for me. She wasn’t a friend, just a village girl with dreams of being an entrepreneur. I like to support local talent, and so I’d taken her on.
When the Alistairs found out, they went for her. Her best friend had been targeted too. The other girl had recovered completely, thank God, but she’d left the village.
“You’re not to blame,” Kraken urged me.
I didn’t bother to argue. I had hired Nita, so it was my responsibility. “She’s booked into Harley Street next week. They have a new laser treatment that will remove almost all of the remaining scars.”
“And her eye?” Kraken asked.
“Can’t be fixed.”
The beating had been so bad that she’d almost lost her eyesight completely. The doctors had performed a miracle and saved one, but the other was too damaged.
Kraken swore fluently, but there was nothing more to be done. I knew because I’d talked to specialists in Bonnington, in London and I’d reached out to New York and Singapore, too. In the end, Harley Street had been the best option.
“We’ll drop by Nita’s stall tomorrow and offer moral support,” Kraken said.
“And we’ll need to beef up security,” Speed sighed. “For all the staff, especially the girls.”
“Interesting times,” Crush yawned. “I need some shuteye. Let’s call it a day.”
The executive trooped off, and I went around, automatically double-checking the stalls were locked down, the Portaloos empty and the stages cleared. By the time I was done, it was almost three. That’s event management for you: glamour on the outside, bloody long hours and grinding hard work on the inside.
I found Lacy in bed, curled up right in the centre, hugging both pillows and hogging all the duvet. Taking in the sexy hair, spread all over the place, and the little nose and curved lips, I considered she was the first girl in two years I’d spent more than one night with.
At the time, dumping Tiffany had seemed a temporary measure. I hadn’t known she’d be my last girlfriend, my final normal relationship. What we’d had hadn’t been love, but I’d liked her. Now she was marrying Floyd-Wills, a wet fish if I ever saw one. She’d be safe even if she might die of boredom.
I was feeling sorry for myself as I brushed my teeth. I loved the Disciples like brothers, but there was no denying it had cost me. A spotty reputation, David had called it. I’d felt it, our families had known each other forever, until Lacy had bristled and snarled, “Hypocrite.”
Her defence had surprised and touched me. I hadn’t exactly been Prince Charming but after Barrows, a man who’d sick the Horde on a girl out of sheer revenge, Jack the Ripper would be a breath of fresh air. Lacy really was mad, messing around with murderous creeps like that.
I eyed the cloud of raven hair and the soft white arm again. She was a pain in the arse, and a blackmailing little bitch too, but I was glad she was safe with me. I didn’t want another Nita on my conscience.
I slid into bed, trying to claim a little duvet. She had an iron grip on it, though, and as I tugged, she woke up.
“No!” Lacy sat bolt upright, blurred with sleep but clearly in the throes of a bad dream. “Oh, it’s you.” She yawned luxuriously and snuggled back under the covers. “I fell asleep.”
“Are you going to hog the covers?”
“Urgh, don’t use that word.” She threw a warm bit of duvet over me and slid into my arms, warm, soft and silky. “Is that Pig gone?”
“Yes.”
Her sweet girlish perfume floated over me, warm, toasty girl scented with roses. It was clean, fresh and innocent, reminding me of hot summer days in the kitchen garden. It was Mum’s favourite place, filled with flowers and herbs. Another memory I didn’t want to get into. A bonk always gives me a lift, no pun intended, so I was stroking the long sweep of Lacy’s back.
“Hmmm,” she was all over me, and I was solid. “Let me say thank you.”
Shit. This was nothing like her cheerful bargaining; this was nothing short of rape. A flood of the guilts coursed through me. “Lacy, listen. I’m not handing you over.”
Her eyes were dark with thought. “Sure?”
“Yes.”
She sighed with relief and nodded. “Good.”
Her hand was on my shaft, teasing the hard flesh. My breath quickened, and I was mesmerised by the soft body leaning against mine. “Erm, Lacy?”
She sat up, “Let me guess,” she pulled her tee over her head, showing off the sweet breasts, and I heard a muffled, “You’re not forcing me.”
The smile told me she was totally into this. “I don’t understand you.”
“I’m complicated.” The backchat was automatic. “And pretty.”
I thumbed her nipples, stroking the soft flesh into taut tips. “You’re beautiful. I’m not sure if I can control myself.”
She tossed her top to the floor. “That’s okay. This time, I go on top.” Giggling, she leaned over me, soft hair swinging over my skin, the sweet scent intensifying.
Cradling the little bones, a determination suddenly gripped me. The Alistairs were gone, but Pig and his mates were cut from the same cloth. They weren’t going to get to this girl.
“Lacy, listen. There’s going to be trouble,” I warned her.
“Let’s not fight.” She dropped a kiss on my collarbone and flicked her tongue over my nipples, setting a shiver shooting down to my throbbing cock. “Let’s fuck.”
“I meant, there’s a war coming.”
She was licking my abs. “Aha.”
“It’s going to get dangerous.”
My cock was up like a steeple, and she was sliding down inch by inch, teasing me. “Yum.”
“Lacy, did you hear me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t think you understand -”
Her breath was warm on my balls, and then that sinuous tongue was laving my shaft.
“Oh hell.”
A wicked giggle floated up. “Give in?”
“I know when I’m licked.”
She was heaven, sliding over me in silky undulations, teasing me until I was howling for her.
“Say please, Rex.”
My cock was red hot and my balls so tight, I thought they’d implode. “Please.”
“Can’t heeeeeeear you.”
“Please!” Then, folding her in my arms and rolling her over. “Now I’ve got you.”
She was hot, wet abandon and I sank into her in one hard thrust. Balls slapping against her, her legs scissored over my back, her arms wrapped tight around my shoulders, we arched and bucked in wild rapture.
“Yes-yes-yes!”
“Oh-dear-God-fuck-me-I’m-coming.”
I rode her squealing into heaven, exploding into her in thick creamy waves, in ecstasy as the little heels drummed into my back as she peaked.
Collapsing on top of her, drowning in her essence, I sucked in air. She was perfection, delicious softness. A sudden flood of emotion had me wrapped around her, hugging her tightly, determined never to let go.
“You were brilliant.” She wriggled underneath me, holding my hands and smiling.
“Hmmm.” I was completely mellow, all the aggro having vanished with the amazing fuck. “But I’m crushing you.” I rolled off her but kept a hold of her. When she wasn’t threatening me or yelling, she was a sweet girl.
She snuggled into me, murmuring, “Thanks for stepping in. That Pig gave me the creeps.”
I stroked the silky hair, “You should be more careful. He could flatten you in one punch.”
“I know. I just got mad. I say crazy thin
gs when I’m angry.”
“Is that how you got into trouble with Barrows?”
She hesitated and then shrugged. “Not exactly. He was drunk, and he just went ballistic. He was never nice, but this vendetta is totally unexpected.”
“I’ll try and talk to him.”
“Think he’ll call them off?”
“Maybe. How much did you cost him?”
“A fucking fortune,” Lacy sighed. “You see, it wasn’t just a shoot, he was doing this photonovel project, and...”
For the first time, I really listened to her. “So you took it on because it was a career boost?”
“Yeah,” Lacy sighed. “My career has a limited shelf life, you know? I’ve got another five or six years in me, but then I’ll need to get a regular job. I was hoping this would earn me a rep, let me build up a nice cushion of cash, and then later, I could leverage my fans to help me move into a related career.”
“Oh yeah? What’s related to, erm...”
She slapped me lightly on the chest. “Not sex, moron.”
“Sorry.” I didn’t even try to deny it. “It’s your fault. You wore me out. I’m an intelligence-free zone.”
“Nice catch,” Lacy giggled. “And blaming me was masterly.”
“I thought so.” She was fun when she wasn’t a bitch. “So what is a related job for kink goddesses?”
“Oh!” I got a smacking kiss. “Good one.” She settled in the curve of my arm again. “Choreography is big. It’s not easy to set up shoots. And if I get into makeup and wardrobe that would give me plenty of scope. Or I might become an agent and help other girls foster their careers.”
She was hard working, talented and committed. And I’d dismissed her as a lazy tart. Worse, I’d assumed she was dishonest, too. A wave of shame consumed me. “Lacy, I’ve been a total arse. Sorry.”
“Wow!” Lacy was wide-eyed with surprise. “Really?”
“Yes. I’m truly sorry.”
Lacy sighed happily. “It’s like a twisty film, isn’t it? I blackmailed you, and you turned the tables on me, and now we’re friendly.”
That was a kind interpretation. I’d blamed her, but she’d acted badly because I hadn’t wanted to give her the time of day.
“Feeling guilty?”
“No.” But I was. I’d almost shoved this girl out of my home, into the hands of the Horde. I’d save her, but there were others out there who wouldn’t be so lucky. I saw Pig’s hands again, rough and shovel-like. I couldn’t bear it. Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to exist.
That was when I decided to kill Pig. I’d take him out, make the world a better place. Relieved, I tuned back in.
Lacy was thoughtful; eyes narrowed as she worked things out. “The Bonnington Music Fest goes on tomorrow and the day after, right?”
“Yes. You’ll stay here, okay? I want to keep you safe.” I’d take care of Pig afterwards. I might take care of Barrows too. It would be a pity, he had real talent, but if he were going to go around putting hits on girls, he’d have to go.
“On Sunday night, want to do something special to celebrate?” Lacy was licking my nipple, teasing me. “We can have some backdoor fun if you like.”
“Yes!” But then reality set in. “Lacy, what do you want?”
“Too obvious, huh?” she sighed. “I just thought that on Monday, if Jason still doesn’t pick up, will you go and see him?”
“You could have just asked,” I said mildly.
“Right, because you’re a bleeding heart,” Lacy answered sarcastically.
That’s when it hit me. I’d apologised, told Lacy I was wrong, and she’d accepted it. She knew too that I’d not give her up to the Horde. But even so, she assumed that the real me was a cold, hardhearted bastard who had to be cajoled continuously or coerced. And the awful thing was that she was right.
I lay in bed, suddenly realising what I’d become. First, I’d turned down and then used a girl desperate for help. Then I’d blamed her for being the victim of her insane and abusive ex who’d set a bunch of animals after her. To put the icing on the cake, Lacy had asked me to mediate for her, and I was planning a double murder.
As if heaven was talking to me, the moon came out, shining on the silver-framed photograph by my bed. My father and mother, kind and loving all their lives, looked over at me. If they could see me now, they’d be horrified. I wasn’t just hardened; I’d lost it.
“Rex, are you okay?” Lacy was leaning on an elbow, her eyes anxious. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
A feeling of loathing and disgust consumed me. It took possession, chilling my guts and my heart. I didn’t know who I hated more: myself for becoming little better than a beast, or her for making me see myself for what I truly was.
“Sure,” I heard myself say. “What could possibly be wrong?”
Chapter Nine
Lacy
The next morning, I staggered into the kitchen, still blurred from too little sleep, and found the executive plotting together. As I boiled the kettle, I overhead snatches of chat. “Dog patrol” and “zone of influence” sounded somewhat martial for the time of day.
Rex nodded and smiled, clearly extending our truce, but by the cold stares, the Disciples weren’t as forgiving. I decided I’d not stick around.
I went out the back door and sat in the kitchen garden. It was heaven on earth: loads of herbs, scented flowers, and a walled patio that reflected the early morning sun.
“Lacy,” Rex blasted out, shattering the peace. “Stay inside today.”
“What? No!”
“The Horde will be here. I want you to be safe.”
“Awww, really?” Rex being protective took me aback. But I wasn’t staying indoors while the biggest rock fest in the country continued outside. “I’ll be okay. There will be too many people for them to try anything.”
“It wouldn’t stop me.”
“True, but they’re not raving lunatics.”
He grinned. “I’m serious, Lacy.”
“So am I.” I took his hand and got him to sit next to me on the step. He smelled good, warm toasty man with a hint of spice. The muscles were rippling, and I remembered how delicious he was in bed. Now he was friendly, I rather liked him.
He was bright, good-looking, hardworking and wealthy. That and the lean and mean streak made him a winner in my book. Hmm... I took in the finely chiselled bones again and remembered the buttery laughter we’d shared. Maybe when this was over, he’d be interested in being friends. With benefits. Or maybe more. It had been years since I’d had a relationship, seven years to be exact, but perhaps this was a man worth the effort.
“Still nothing from Barrows,” Rex was checking his phone. “It’s a pain in the arse, but you’ll have to stay the weekend.”
That killed the fantasy. Rex didn’t want me sticking around. “It’s not my idea of heaven either.” Because I have my pride. Also, a tiny bit of me was hoping he’d protest.
“I know.” He didn’t even blink. The bugger. “Monday I’ll go up to Lincoln and sort him out.”
“Brilliant.” I can be cool too.
“I have to go.” Rex was back to his White Rabbit impression. “The gates open in an hour.”
“You will keep trying Jason, right?”
“Yes-yes-yes!”
Meaning he’d be too busy. But, I encouraged myself, I just had to wait another day or so and then Rex would fix it. A call to Mia cheered me up even further. She was having a lovely time and left me determined to enjoy the day.
I put on my daytime party face, borrowed a blue silk shirt from Rex to go with my black leggings, and went out, just as Pink Chameleons, the first band, started their set. The line-up was fantastic, and once I Tweeted selfies with Mogwai and Rak-Su, I had a steady stream of fans saying hello and was making new friends too.
I was having a great time, until Pig and his mates pitched up. They settled by the beer tent, seemingly wholly focused on getting drunk, but ten minutes later a tweet pop
ped up. Lacy Desire dead in car crash, it said. Funeral to be announced. I stared at it, wondering what the hell was going on, when Pig looked over, and finger gunned me.
Suddenly breathless with fear, I punched in Rachel’s number. “Whatever you hear, ignore it. I’m fine.” I explained briefly. “Jason and his mates are trying to make life difficult, that’s all.”
“Ohmigod, Lacy. Report them!”
“I’m going to.”
Rex was stalking over as I hung up. “You’ve heard?”
“That I’m dead? Yes.”
“Use your social media to say you’ve got a stalker turned nasty but pretend you don’t know who’s behind it.”
“But it’s the freaking Horde!”
He was tight-lipped about it. “You asked me to help. Trust me to do it.”
Put like that, I nodded.
Rex marched off, temper flowing from him in waves. He spoke briefly to Pig, who acted out great shock and denial. Rex talked some more, looked at me, shook his head, and marched off, talking into his phone again.
I could read him easily: he was fuming because my problems were interfering with his rock fest. Clearly, he was going off me again too. That pissed me off, I had thought we were becoming friends, and from that point, the day nose-dived.
The bands were great, the crowd were partying but as texts and calls flooded in, having to repeat, “It’s a nasty prank by a mystery stalker” soon became monotonous. It became worse when pictures of my “corpse” appeared on Instagram.
By dusk, I was tired from stress and feeling snappy. I tried to focus on the music, but my phone was beeping again. This time it was a raft of tweets, claiming I’d been blacklisted by Twisted and Spanked for not turning up on time, and sabotaging shoots with diva-like demands.
When I looked around me, people were staring and nudging each other. No smoke without fire, that’s what they were thinking. The rumours were toxic. They’d kill my career. Jason’s phone was still off, but a text came winging in: it was a laughing pig, holding a rifle, with the caption, Gotcha.
I was on my feet and flying at Pig. “You lousy rotten bastard!” He was drunk, but there was nothing wrong with his fists. The punch sent me flying, but it didn’t stop me. I was up and at him, my nails in his face and my knee missing his balls by a hair’s breadth.
