The Bandit

by B. B. Reid

  For now.

  “Say that again?” Lucas called to run down Mian’s activity in the few hours I had been gone.

  “Bruce says she went to some pawn shop on Trent but didn’t go in.”

  “Hm. Where did she go after?”

  “Back to Mercy Homes. Some babe got out of a Jag, and they went in together. She hasn’t moved since.”

  “Check the place out and let me know what you find.” I ended the call and looked down at the brunette with her head in my lap. “Stop.”

  She released my dick from her lips with a wet pop. “What’s that, baby?”

  I stood up causing her to fall on her thong-clad ass. “Move.” She pouted and stared up at me with hungry eyes. She wasn’t doing it for me, and I had a pretty good idea why. “Get out.”

  I disappeared into the bathroom and hoped she’d be gone by the time I was done. Turning on the shower, I stepped inside the glass walls and gripped my dick.

  Christie’s lips weren’t the lips I needed to have wrapped around me.

  They weren’t small and soft.

  They didn’t tremble with fear or curl with disdain when I was near.

  They didn’t moisten from the tip of her tongue sweeping over them after she’d bitten into the skin…

  My grip slid from the base to the tip of my dick. A grunt forced through my lips and was lost within the sound of water rushing from above.

  Closing my eyes, I pumped again.

  It wasn’t wise.

  It meant letting her in my head.

  Giving her control she didn’t know she had.

  But the feeling was too good not chase.

  My hand moved faster, racing for the finish.

  Goddamn.

  I needed…

  Her.

  “Fuck!” I bit my bottom lip the way she would when she was turned on but needed to hide it and came. I was getting restless thinking about having Mian under my power again.

  I slipped out early the next morning and made my way to the prison. I may have given into my dick last night, but I wouldn’t be ruled by it. Moving through the crowd of people rushing in to visit their loved ones, I found an empty locker and stored my phone, wallet, and keys. I checked in with the lobby officer and then waited for the clearance to go through security like many times before.

  After waiting for half an hour, we were allowed into the visitation hall. Despite the crowd, it didn’t take long to find the man I came to see. When he spotted me, I nodded and took a seat.

  Jonny was a reckless druggie who specialized in grand theft auto when he was on the outside. He was also as sneaky as they come which is why I hired him to get close to his roommate whom I had a deep interest in.

  “Hey, man! How are you?”

  “What do you have for me?” As usual, I skipped the pleasantries and jumped right into business, but Jonny always insisted on being friendly.

  “You’re still an ill-tempered son of a bitch, eh?”

  “Jonny…”

  “Right. Remember, I told you he never gets visitors?” He took a look around and leaned in. “Well, three days ago he gets a visit.”

  “From who?”

  “He said it was his daughter. I never even knew he had a kid since he never mentioned it before.”

  “Did he say why she was here?”

  “Said she was in a bad situation and needed money.”

  “What else?”

  “I couldn’t get much out of him, but he did say something about a book.”

  “A book…”

  “Yeah. He said if he could get to it and sell it, then his daughter and grandson could survive.”

  I wanted nothing more than to hurl the plastic chair across the room.

  Mian Ross was not just a gifted liar. She was fucked, too.

  Chapter Ten

  Sex pays the bills… unless you’re bad at it.

  MIAN

  I stared up at the flashing sign lit in a perception of gold. The lettering mirrored the popular casino in Vegas. Taking a deep breath, I wobbled inside Caesar’s Palace on a pair of Brandi’s stilts.

  Was I really going to do this?

  A couple of shots of whiskey and a bag of Brandi’s tricks ensured I would. I even allowed Brandi to babysit because I couldn’t admit to my best friend that I’d fallen so far that I’d resort to taking my clothes off for a stack of dollar bills.

  The first thing I noticed when I walked inside was the thick cloud of smoke. The second was the earsplitting volume of the music and some rapper’s claim that all he wants for his birthday is a big booty hoe.

  I wobbled forward until a burly bouncer with midnight skin, a bald head, and a face tattoo smashed his hand into my chest. I careened backward and braced myself for the fall, but a hard warm wall behind me broke my fall. I peeked over my shoulder and found another beefcake standing with his arms crossed.

  “Pay the cover.”

  “But I…I’m… I—”

  “Look, I don’t care how fine you are. You don’t get in without paying the cover.” He held out a beefy hand with his palm up.

  “I’m not here to, ummm…”

  His bushy eyebrows furrowed. “You here to see Caesar?”

  Too ashamed to speak the words, I nodded.

  My stomach pitched and turned when he took his time looking me over. Something like approval shone in his eyes, but then his hand lifted from his side to finger the black belt on Brandi’s trench coat I was wearing. I shrunk back.

  He snorted then laughed when he noticed my reaction. “Girl, you ain’t here to see no Caesar.” Beefcake number two joined in on the amusement.

  “Yes, I am. Are you going to let me in or not?”

  “Sure. Sure. I got to see this. Follow me.” With a lift of his chin to his partner, he turned and disappeared into the dark and the smoke. I struggled to keep up. Thankfully, the neon lettering on the back of his shirt guided me through the crowd. It was the fourth of July, and it seemed as if all of Chicago had chosen this place to celebrate. I could smell the booze, sweat, and sex, but was too afraid I’d turn and run if I peeked. When he finally stopped, I noticed it was in front of a purple door with a gold handle. Gold lettering spelled out Caesar’s Throne. Apparently, the sleaze of this place was hidden in plain sight.

  Beefcake One knocked three times and then waited dutifully to be permitted entrance.

  “I’m busy,” a gruff voice on the other side called.

  “Boss, I got a hot one for you.”

  There was a pause and then a shuffling followed by heavy footsteps. The door suddenly flew open, and the first thing I noticed was the red silk shirt and chest hair peeking out from underneath. He wasn’t very tall or muscular, so he didn’t intimidate me like Angel’s goonies had. Black slacks covered his legs and were tailored nicely to fit over black wingtips with gold tips. I lifted my gaze to his face and found him checking me out much like I had been doing to him but with a lot of lust. His dark hair was slick from grease and pulled back away from his face. He didn’t look a day over thirty, and I had to admit he had appeal.

  If you were into the mobster type.

  “What’s your name?” He never took his eyes from my legs when he finally spoke.

  “Mian.”

  “Not very sexy.” I bit back a smart retort and waited. His gaze finally met mine, and I found his eyes were as dark as his hair. “You don’t talk much. I like that.” He turned into the room and held the door open. “Get in here,” he roughly ordered.

  I shuffled inside when I should have strutted and was just thankful his back was turned. The door closed making the music muffled and leaving only the rapid thump of my heart. Feeling a presence behind me, I peeked over my shoulder to see that Beefcake had followed us in with a leer.

  “Out, Jones.”

  I sent Beefcake Jones a smug smile and watch
ed him mutter with his massive shoulders slumped as he left the room. When the door closed a second time, I became painfully aware that I was alone with a man I didn’t know.

  “So, you want to dance for Caesar?”

  Confused, I looked around before answering. “You’re not Caesar?”

  “I am.”

  Apparently, his ego was as flamboyant as this club and his gold-tipped shoes. I tried to think of what to say or do next, but instead, I fidgeted and tried to recall Brandi’s version of a pep talk before I abandoned what was left of my virtue behind along with my son.

  “I know I said I liked that you didn’t talk much, but this is an interview. If you have nothing to say, then let’s get down to business. Lose the coat.” My hands flew up to the belt. “No, girl. Do it slowly.”

  He extended his hand to the left and pressed a button I didn’t see. A rhythmic beat I didn’t recognize filled the room. I stood frozen trying to recall the moves Brandi showed me hours before. The singer took over now. The beat just background noise now. I instantly recognized the sexy, harmonious croon of Beyoncé singing about rolling up a partition.

  “Any day now.”

  I jumped into action and lifted my foot to take an exaggerated step forward.

  But something went wrong.

  Horribly wrong.

  The heel beneath me wiggled causing me to collapse and tumble forward.

  Shit.

  Chapter Eleven

  She’s no damsel.

  ANGEL

  “Run that by me again?”

  “She went into Caesar’s wearing a black trench coat and red heels, Boss.”

  “How long?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  “Report to me the second she leaves.” My keys bit the inside of my palm as I tore through my father’s house for the garage with Lucas and Z on my heels. We had been going over our plans for Mian when Lucas got the call. He listened as the caller spoke while I sat frozen. Instinct, perhaps, had warned me that Mian was the cause of the call. When he wordlessly handed me the phone, my suspicions were confirmed.

  I knew Caesar’s. Lucas, Z, and I used to sneak in when we were kids to get an eye full. A blue-eyed, buxom beauty named Candy introduced me to the pleasure of blowjobs. My classmates who I had fucked on a regular basis were always too prude or scared to take the step.

  “What’s the plan again?” Z questioned rhetorically. I could hear the amusement in his tone after Lucas finished explaining what had sent me into a rage.

  What was the plan?

  I wasn’t ready to take her yet.

  She hadn’t made her move.

  Caesar was a businessman, and a greedy one, but he wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t have to do with tits and ass. Not to mention his strip club was a front for something much more lucrative.

  Selling pussy.

  Any girl that worked for him sold their pussy whether they wanted to or not. It was a condition for a job at the Palace.

  Mian risking her life to rob me started to make sense. She was never the type to use her body for gain. With my family’s secrets to sell, she would be free of Caesar.

  How far down exactly had Mian spiraled?

  I considered for the first time that I no longer knew anything about the girl I practically raised.

  “He’s got a point,” Lucas said, siding with Z. I came to a stop at the entrance of the garage and faced them. “We still don’t know who her buyer is, and I’m not convinced it’s her pimp.”

  My rage was clouding my judgment, so much so that I wanted to smash Lucas’s face in. And for what? To defend her honor? It was clear she had none from the moment she welcomed the first John between her legs.

  “Besides…” Z smirked when I glared. “She’s your target, not your damsel.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Pick on someone your own size.

  MIAN

  Eight Years Ago

  My scraped hands rested loosely against my sides as I limped home.

  No.

  Not home.

  It was just the place my father dumped me so he could rob and chase riches around the world with Uncle Art. Some days, I questioned why I still loved him despite his need to keep distance between us. I had been reduced from being his favorite person to spend time with to an obligation he checked in on whenever he remembered I hadn’t died with Mom.

  I dug out my keyring when I reached the brownstone. The rough material of my shorts rubbed against my sore hands, and I hissed from the sting. My knees were just as bad and so was my busted lip from hitting the ground when I fell.

  I turned the key in the lock and pushed to open the door, but it didn’t give. I twisted the knob again but the door refused to budge, and I realized the top lock must have been turned. Disgust made me forget my scraped hands and knees.

  He was in there.

  With a girl.

  He always locked the top lock to keep me out when he was entertaining someone.

  Yuck.

  Except, not yuck.

  Angel Knight was hot—a fact that couldn’t be denied. Not even by me. I just could never figure out why the thought of him with girls made my stomach turn. Sighing, I took a seat on the stoop and waited for him to finish. An hour later, the door opened and out stepped a leggy blonde with a satisfied smile. I turned my head when I saw her lean in for a goodbye kiss and cringed when I heard their lips meet.

  A deep groan came from beyond the door, and the kiss went on.

  After three minutes of nonstop lip locking, I decided I’d had enough.

  I coughed and coughed again until I was pretending to have a choking fit finally gaining their attention.

  “Calm down, kiddie tits. We’re done.” I heard his laugh just before he disappeared back inside without me seeing him.

  I glared at the blonde as she practically skipped down the sidewalk. I shot up with a huff but then winced when my knees reminded me of my injuries.

  After walking inside, I came to a dead stop when I found him standing there waiting for me with a bored look.

  “What?”

  “What happened to your lip?” His tone matched his face until his gaze trailed down and stopped at my scraped up knees. “Jeez, did you fall?” Dark brown eyes watched me curiously.

  “You can say that.” I avoided his gaze and limped around him. There was a first aid kit in the bathroom that I desperately needed.

  “Bullshit. You got beat up, didn’t you?” I heard his mocking laugh. It was closer than it should have been since I walked away, which meant he had followed me. “What’s her name?”

  I stopped at the top of the stairs and whirled around to face him. “Jesse Newman. And she isn’t a girl.”

  The smile dropped from his face quicker than it appeared. “Say what?”

  “He’s even meaner than you . I hate him.”

  I hate you.

  “You’re fucking with me, right?”

  “Nope.” I turned and limped the rest of the way to the bathroom. I could see from my peripheral that he was still standing at the top of the stairs. Stupidly, I met his gaze. He definitely wasn’t laughing anymore.

  * * *

  I walked through the front doors the next morning dreading school. Last night, I bandaged my palms and knees and treated my busted lip as best as I could and forced myself through my homework assignments. I hadn’t heard a peep from Angel after I told him I was beaten by a boy. Was he upset that he wasn’t the only one getting a kick out of making me miserable?

  Angel never did seem like the sharing type.

  I found the object of my thoughts standing at the bottom of the stoop, dressed in a white muscle shirt, black shorts, and a frown. “Took you long enough.”

  Was he actually waiting for me?

  “Are you waiting
for me?” My brain screamed for me to move, but my feet refused the command.

  “What was your first clue?” He tilted his head as if he really expected an answer.

  “Why?”

  “I’m walking you to school.”

  “Why?”

  “That the only question you know?”

  “Okay… what for?”

  “Just come on,” he bit out showing his impatience. Five quick steps later, I was standing beside him. Rolling my eyes didn’t make me feel any better, so I looked up with a quirk of my eyebrow— God, he was tall —and waited. He started walking, and I followed. We made the fifteen-minute walk in ten with his long strides and me practically running to keep up.

  He had never walked me to school before even though he was supposed to be protecting me. It was no secret that we couldn’t stand each other, so we limited the time we spent together. He taunted me occasionally, and I tattled to my dad to get him trouble. That was the extent of our interactions.

  The schoolyard was already busy with kids rushing from cars and school buses to hurry inside the building. Some loitered around with the intention of skipping as soon as the teachers and their parent’s backs were turned. Jesse Newman would be one of them.

  Maybe he would be waiting around for a second helping of his foot in my ass. I tried to fight back, but he was just too big, and the other kids just egged him on. I didn’t even have Erin around to help, not that she would have. She would have been even more scared than I had been. Jesse decided to turn his bullying on me when I stopped him from kicking the shit out of some kid who had run off as soon as Jesse’s back was turned.

  Big mistake there.

  With no one left to punch, he’d socked me a good one and called me a nosy cunt. Some kids laughed and egged him on while others stood around too afraid to say something or even call for help. I fell when his fist connected with my lip. When I got back up to face him, someone from behind pushed me, and I fell forward. It was how I got my scrapes.