Courting Trouble: Running with the Devil Book 6

by Jasmin Quinn

  Savisin nodded. He was listening.

  “Maybe grab Anto, take a walk, have a convo with him about some deep criminal enterprise shit. I’ll extract the women.”

  Rusya nodded again. “I’ll get Anto outside. Get Marisol the fuck away from them. If she’s hurt, it’s on you.”

  “Why me?”

  He motioned towards Olivia with his head. “I think we both know why Marisol is letting Okada’s stooge chat her up.”

  Savisin was right. Olivia was as much part of the conversation as Marisol. The bodyguard was thinking threesome. You could see it in his eyes and his smile. Where the fuck was the other bodyguard?

  Savisin left, strolled over to Anto like he had neither care nor worry, spoke into his ear. Anto nodded and they turned toward the open doors. Hugo breathed a sigh of relief until he looked over at the women again. He found the other guy. The fuck was pressed into Olivia, his hand on her back. Olivia had her red dress hiked up about six inches and was chattering away and pointing below the hemline. All other sets of eyes were on her leg. Hugo’s cock perked up – tried to get a look too. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath.

  He searched the room for Okada, saw him standing off to the side, on his own, not really concerned that his bodyguards were MIA. He glanced to Okada’s left, saw Scott out of the corner of his eye, making his way towards Okada.

  The women were going to have to wait. Hugo veered off, pushed his way through the throng of milling people towards Scott who was passing a waiter carrying a tray full of drinks balanced on one hand up by his head. As he passed the waiter, Hugo grabbed two glasses of beer, causing the tray to tip. The waiter made a heroic grab for it, but it had tilted too far to the right. Gravity won. The tray flipped sideways and the remaining glasses of beer rained down on Randall Scott, who did what every other human being in the world would do. He ducked. Hugo didn’t stick around to see the damage but everyone else turned their attention to the small disaster and potential future death of the waiter.

  Hugo felt a little bad, but reasoned that Blondie kept his bed a whole lot warmer than the waiter did. The poor guy was apologizing profusely, swiping at Randal Scott with a cloth. Scott was bent over, shaking his trouser leg with his hand. This was good. It made the old man hard to see amongst the swarm of people. Hugo dropped the two glasses of beer onto a table as he passed and beelined towards Okada.

  He didn’t know what he was going to do, didn’t have a clue what he was going to say to Okada. At least Liv had the bodyguards distracted. A quick glance towards her told him that she not only had them distracted but completely mesmerized. She had her shoes off now, showing them to the other three, who were completely focused on her. Then she motioned to her thigh as she transferred both shoes to one hand and hiked up her dress again.

  For fuck’s sake! When he got her home, he was going to spank her then fuck her and then maybe spank her again. Okada was still distracted by the crash, which gave Hugo time to sidle up to the deadly Yakuza member. By Japanese standards, Okada was a big-ass specimen, by Hugo’s standards, he was medium-sized. He stepped up to Okada and said quietly into his ear. “Mr. Okada, do you know a Mr. Anto Kharzin?”

  Okada’s eyes flicked to Hugo, a frown splitting his face. “Yes.”

  Hugo nodded toward Olivia and Marisol. This was going to be a risk, but Hugo was desperate. “Those are his women. Lucky fuck. He’s going to notice them missing in a minute or two. Going to see them with your bodyguards and then very likely not going to be a happy man.”

  Okada stared at the women. Olivia now had her dress hiked up so that both her thighs were exposed. Marisol had her hand on the front of one the thighs and was caressing it while Olivia talked and nodded. The two bodyguards were very obviously distracted – what red-blooded heterosexual male wouldn’t be? Olivia pointed to Marisol’s crotch, uh, no, her thigh. Hopefully her thigh. Okada narrowed his eyes at the scene then glanced at Hugo. “I’ll get them.”

  “No.” Hugo almost reached out to restrain Okada from moving toward the foursome, but then stopped himself. “Randall Scott doesn’t want you anywhere near them if Kharzin catches wind. It’ll be a slaughterhouse. He asked me to escort you to a private room upstairs. I’ll intercept your guys and point them to where you’re at after I get you out of here.”

  Okada looked at Hugo, sizing him up. Trying to decide whether Hugo was legit. Hugo didn’t give him time to think it fully through. He turned his back to the Japanese mobster and made his way straight towards a door marked private. He hoped to fuck it wasn’t locked. He didn’t look back to see if Okada was following him, not until he was at the door. He couldn’t. It would be a giveaway, make Hugo look too eager.

  When he turned at the door, Okada was beside him. He opened the door, held it for Okada as the mobster stepped through. As he shut the door softly behind them, Hugo noted a long hall, some doors and a set of stairs. “Upstairs,” he grunted and led the way again. It was hard for Hugo to turn his back on Okada. The guy was very likely as deadly as his two bodyguards if not more so, but Hugo leading the way made him seem harmless, genuine. He hoped it wouldn’t earn him a knife between the shoulder blades.

  He strode confidently towards one of the rooms like he knew exactly what was on the other side, turned the handle. It was unlocked. Hugo felt an immense inner sense of relief, making sure his face stayed cool. He stepped into what appeared to be an empty office, held the door as Okada entered, then used the full force of his fist to smoke the poor bastard on the side of his head. Okada fell like a sack of feathers mixed in with a handful of bricks.

  Hugo inhaled deeply and rotated his shoulders to release a little tension. Okay, Scott down, Okada down. Now all he had to do was get Olivia and Marisol away from the bodyguards before Anto caught wind, then get the fuck away from the Rosewood. He grabbed the unconscious Okada by the armpits, dragged him behind the desk and shoved him under it. At least Okada would be out of view of anyone who might step in.

  He took one last look at the Japanese gangster, wondered if he should give him another good punch, then decided against it. He crossed the room, opened the door, peeked out. Sidled into the hallway, took the stairs two at a time, then slipped back into the gala. He looked for Scott, who was nowhere in sight, but Anto was, and Rusya, side by side, entering through the balcony doors.

  Hugo glanced over to the women. Olivia was bent over, her ass to him and he groaned as his cock made an untimely decision to take a stand. Bent like that, her breasts were thinking of making a run for it. She was holding Marisol’s dress and had it hiked up to her thigh, exposing her long shapely leg, pointing at it and looking up at the men as she talked. If Hugo was still into threesomes. Maybe… no… fuck. Mind back on the job.

  He paced towards the foursome, Olivia saw his approach as she hovered over Red’s shapely thigh. She dropped Marisol’s dress and straightened up quickly, her eyes a little wider than usual. Hugo saw she was holding her breath.

  “Boys,” he said when he reached the little group. Anto was scanning the room, looking for Marisol, a frown splitting his face. “Your boss is looking for you. Saw him go that away. He pointed towards Anto, towards the open French doors. The men looked up at Hugo, startled, then at the girls.

  One of them bowed to Hugo, then the women. “Excuse us for a minute. We’ll go to our boss. Please wait.”

  They stepped away as Anto’s eyes landed on the party of three. Hugo waved him over. Anto smiled widely as he joined them. “What a fucking fantastic party this is. Hugo, we have the most beautiful women here.” He slid in between Olivia and Marisol where the bodyguard had been, put an arm around their waists and squeezed them in towards him.

  Hugo tried to look on the bright side. Maybe he’d just aged 10 years, but he’d done what needed to be done. He was going to get to Anthony West. “We should go,” he said to them. “Okada’s guys are not going to find him and when they don’t, they’re going to come looking for me.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Olivi
a could tell Hugo was pissed. She marveled at how she’d known him less than a week and had already figured him out. Of course, it didn’t take a mind reader to see how unhappy he was. He seemed friendly enough but was uncharacteristically quiet. His face was a little ruddy, his jaw was clenched and his back rigid. All the signs that she was about to get a tongue lashing. The limo dropped Anto and Mari off first. Mari and Olivia made plans to meet for lunch soon. Kiss, kiss and then Hugo and Olivia were on their way to the marina.

  As soon as the limo was in motion, Hugo turned to Olivia, his polite friendly mask disappearing. “Jesus fucking Christ, Olivia!”

  Olivia crossed her arms over her chest and looked out a side window. She tried for innocence. “What? The Japanese guys? They hit on us.”

  “Bullshit, Olivia! Just bullshit! I don’t know how the fuck you talked Marisol into your little scheme, but if Anto had caught them looking up her dress, it would have been a blood bath.”

  That pissed Olivia off. Anto would kill for Marisol, but all Hugo would do is play a round of smoke and mirrors? That was just fucking typical. Okay, yes, stupid to be pissed off, but it still hurt. “But not you, Hugo? Right?”

  “Are you kidding me, Olivia!” Pissed, seriously pissed. “You’re playing with fucking fire! The guy’s a nightmare. You never want to be on the wrong side of him, and if he knew you dragged Marisol into your little attract-and-titillate-the-Yakuza-bodyguards game, you, and me by extension, would be on his wrong side!”

  Olivia never knew when to shut up even when her brain told her that what she was about to say was a bad idea. Like now, for example. “So you’re afraid of him? Is that it?”

  Hugo’s face was mottled, and he looked like he was doing everything in his power not to slap her or have a heart attack. “I’m respectful of the influence he has. I’m afraid for you. He’s not a nice guy most days of the week and just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean he won’t take your head off if he thinks you’ve done something to deserve it.”

  “I was trying to help you. You got what you needed, so where’s the – ”

  Hugo interrupted, reaching across the seats and pulling her to him with an iron grip to her upper arms. Her knees scraped the floor and she grabbed at his thighs to keep from falling on her ass “Shut the fuck up! You aren’t hearing what I’m saying. We discussed this already. Other men, off-limits to you. You fucking agreed!”

  Olivia on her knees looking up at him, vulnerable if he wanted to hit her. Still didn’t keep her mouth from flapping. “I agreed I wouldn’t straddle them and shove my tongue down their throats! I didn’t do any of that.”

  He gave her a little shake. “You had your fucking shoes off and were showing them your thighs!”

  Why the fuck couldn’t he understand what they were doing? “We were discussing thigh muscles! I was showing them how they looked with and without stilettos.”

  Hugo groaned. He pushed her back onto her seat and took a swipe at his face. “Fuck. And Marisol, what were you doing with her?”

  “Mari’s a runner. We were comparing thigh muscles. You should see hers –“

  CHAPTER 35

  Mari’s a runner. We were comparing thigh muscles. You should see hers…

  Jesus Christ! “I don’t fucking want to die, Olivia!” Then he stopped. He wasn’t getting through and he was so fucking pissed off. Like last time, suppressing the urge to savage her. He needed to focus on the big picture. No one got hurt, well except Okada, the meeting between the Japanese gangster and Scott didn’t happen. Anto never saw the girls chatting up the bodyguards.

  Any other time, any other place he would have ate those two bodyguards for breakfast and made a necklace from their teeth. But he needed to find Olivia’s husband, so he had to keep his temper in check. One fucking thing at a time. Get to Tony West, kill Tony West, marry Olivia and take her out on the ocean where she couldn’t get into trouble, so they could get through five fucking minutes without fighting.

  When they arrived at his boat, Olivia marched angrily off to the master stateroom and started stripping. He watched sullenly. His cock wanted a peek too. She was pissed that he wasn’t more appreciative of her efforts, but also that he wasn’t as jealous as Anto. Fuck and fuck. It didn’t make sense that she would want both at the same time.

  “Are we going to fuck?” he asked her, fully aware of the snarl in his voice.

  “If you want,” Olivia said coolly. The dress was off and she was standing in stilettos and her bra and panties. His eyes raked her, drank her in. His anger stoked his lust.

  “Yeah, I do.” He kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his pants and shirt as she yanked off her shoes and unhooked her bra, letting her beautiful firm breasts loose.

  “Have at ‘er, then.”

  Hugo lost what the tenuous leash he had on temper. He whipped her around by her arm, yanked her to him, her back against his chest, one hand splayed across her belly, the other one cradling her neck, her throat between his fingers and thumb. He applied a little pressure.

  “You really want to play games with me, Liv? Now? You think I didn’t want to rip those fucking Japanese guys to shreds for looking at you?”

  Olivia took a shuddering breath. She brought her hands up and wrapped her fingers around his wrists. “Hugo…”

  “No Liv, I told you back in Alamo that there’d be no more fraternizing with the opposite sex. You fucking ignored me. You got a pass last time, you’d don’t get another pass.”

  He shoved her forward onto the bed as he let her go, her face mashed into a pillow, her ass in the air. He hooked his fingers into her panties and ripped them from her. She shrieked.

  “Shut the fuck up, Liv!” He was going to fuck the mischief out of her.

  Then he was inside her. No foreplay, no preamble. No pretty kisses. It didn’t matter, she was ready, dripping, hot, welcoming. He heard her gasp, heard the intake of breath, an attempt to move away from him, but he slapped her ass. Hard. As hard as he dared. He wanted her bruised, wanted her hurt. Wanted her to understand where his line was. He slapped her again.

  “Hugo, stop!” she shrieked, her breath uneven. He grabbed her braid, wrapped it in his hand, yanked her head back as he leaned over her, still fucking her, using his cock as a weapon.

  “Stop what? Hitting you or fucking you, because you’re pretty fucking wet. Does it turn you on, Olivia? To be fucked like this, spanked?”

  “You sonofabitch,” she tried to rear up, tried to hit out at him. He pulled upright and slapped her ass again. Hard again.

  “Rule 1, Olivia.”

  She gasped as the slap reverberated through her. She brought her hand to her pussy. He slapped her again on the other cheek. “Fuck! Hugo, you bastard.”

  He slapped her again. “Rule 1, Olivia.”

  He could feel her pussy tightening around him, pulling him into her. “Fuck!” she screamed as she came.

  That was it for him. His orgasm shot through him like a bullet. Too much. He fell on her as his come shot from him, a second or two until he could get some feeling back. Then he rolled off her, flat on his back, a foot from her body, his hand slung over his forehead, his chest heaving. It was too fucking much. And she, rolling away from him too, curling into a ball. Shoulders shaking.

  He closed his eyes, groped around for guilt. Couldn’t find it. Fell asleep.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The next morning, Olivia was uncharacteristically quiet. Hugo was too. Confused. Using sex as a weapon again, if that’s what he did. Angry fucking. They both got off on it though and he wanted to do it again because it was such a fucking high. Because they were both still pissed. She, for reasons that were completely contradictory. He, because she’d disrespected him, disobeyed him. Put herself in danger.

  Still, a little voice in his head admired her creativity, her ability to get what she needed without ever actually having to get physical. If he wasn’t so taken with her, she would be a good partner, a good go-to person when he needed a distraction. H
is thoughts landed on Jack Creed as he recalled the favour she did for the Vegas mobster. Got to a guy he couldn’t. It made Hugo shudder.

  He caught her looking at him, then she looked away. He reached over, took her hand. “Liv.”

  She looked back at him, a set to her mouth, blue eyes a little cloudy. She was confused too. “My ass hurts.”

  “Are you waiting for an apology?”

  She looked away, then nodded.

  Hugo reached out, took her hand, drew it to him. Pulled his chair closer to hers, gripped the back of her head and laid his forehead on hers. Looking straight into her eyes. “Liv,” he said in the gentlest, most loving voice he could muster. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t beat your ass harder.”

  She tried to jerk back from him, but he held her to him. “It was nothing less than you deserved.”

  “Fuck off, Hugo.”

  He tightened his grip on the back of her neck. “I could fuck you all over again like that, and you’d get off on it, wouldn’t you?”

  She tried to jerk away again, started to struggle but he grabbed her, wrapped his arms around her. Dragged her onto his lap and held her. He was hard again. “I want to fuck you, Olivia.”

  He reached around, pulled her skirt up to her waist, thrust her panties to the side and entered her with two fingers. She was wet and welcoming. She grunted at the invasion and tried to close her legs. He shoved back at her with his knees, thrust her thighs open and started working her clit.

  “Goddammit!” she cried and tucked her feet around his calves without realizing she was doing it. Under her breath, to herself, maybe forgetting he was there, she said, “Don’t respond. Don’t you dare respond.”

  He grinned as he rubbed her clit with his fingers, feeling her tense under him. Her hands going to his knees to steady herself as she rode his fingers. He listened to her breathing, listened as it sped up, got deeper. Then he stopped, removed his fingers, took his hand away. She twisted her head towards him. “What the fuck, Hugo?”