Taking Control

by Jen Frederick

  Sitting up, I pull her legs together and clasp her around her thighs with one arm while I work her clit with my other hand. Her nails rake the back of my hand and my forearm, and she thrashes wildly on the mattress. “Come for me, bunny. Come,” I order. And then I feel her shatter beneath me. Her sheath squeezes my cock so tightly as she climaxes a third time that I nearly fall backwards in ecstasy. She’s shaking, almost crying, as she comes down off the high.

  I slip out of her and, with three harsh jerks, start to ejaculate, long spurts of come spilling over the backs of her thighs, between her legs, and onto the sheet. With a groan, I pump myself harder, until there’s nothing left inside me, and I collapse on the mattress beside her.

  The sheets are torn loose from the bed corners, and beneath my legs I can feel the scratchy surface of the mattress cover. We are a sticky, sweaty mess, and I want nothing more than to lie there with her in my arms while she tries to absorb the power of the climax that just ripped through both of us.

  “I don’t understand how it gets better each time,” she says finally, licking a bit of sweat off my chest.

  “Because you’re like good whiskey, bunny. Each minute that ticks by makes you taste better.”

  “Like twelve-year reserve?” she giggles.

  “No, more like a one-hundred-and-twelve-year reserve. You taste any better and I’m not going to be able spend even one minute out of your pussy.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It can be an absolute fucking reality,” I tell her. Realizing that she might be uncomfortable, even if I’m not, I force myself out of the bed. With the adrenaline of the night having worn off completely, the aches and pains of the fight are making themselves known. Before I can prevent it, a slight moan escapes me.

  “What’s wrong?” Tiny sits up. Her hair is tangled in a thousand knots. She’s never looked sexier.

  “Nothing,” I reply before leaning over to kiss her, but she pushes me back before my lips can find their target.

  “Is that a cut over your eye? Did I scratch you?” She sounds horrified.

  “You did, but not there.” I present my back to her so she can see the evidence of her mindless excitement. They’re marks I’ll wear proudly. There are scratches on my forearms, ass, and thighs. I hope they burn when I shower.

  “Then what?”

  I realize I’m going to have to tell her something, and I don’t want to lie to her. She doesn’t deserve that. “Give me a minute.”

  She nods, but I feel her gaze tracking me—and not in a sexual way. In the bathroom, I find a washrag and wipe away the sticky residue of my come and maybe even a little of hers. I toss the cloth on the floor and wet a second one for Tiny.

  She’s still sitting on the edge of the ruined bed when I approach. I gesture for her to lie back while I clean her up. “After I hung up with you earlier, I was attacked.”

  Her hand grips my wrist, preventing me from using the cloth. A droplet of water splashes on her stomach, but she barely notices. “Where? Who did it? Did you call the police?”

  “I don’t know who they are, and no, I didn’t call the police.” Gently, I move her hand and commence my task of wiping her clean.

  “Why didn’t you call the police?” she nearly yells.

  “Because I don’t think either you or I need the eye of the law turned toward us.”

  She falls silent and then, more subdued, asks, “What will you do?”

  “Tomorrow Steve and I will discuss the matter. See what we can come up with.” While I’m not interested in lying to her, neither am I ready to confess that I’ve apprehended one of my assailants and currently have him locked in a windowless cell in Kaga’s basement. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him yet, and I’m not prepared to divulge that information to Tiny until I do. I don’t want him on her conscience. She has enough to deal with.

  “Is that why you were late?”

  “Yes, I had to change. Steve took me to Kaga’s, and his assistant applied some makeup on my face. I don’t know how you women stand it. I felt like a clown.” Finished with her, I toss the rag to the side. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to be able to sleep in this mess. . . however, I don’t know that I can make the bed,” I admit with not a little chagrin.

  She rises and then pushes me away. “Do you have a change of sheets?”

  “Yes, in the closet somewhere.”

  She marches toward the bathroom, throwing on all the lights. I understand. She wants to see the evidence of the brawl. I’d want the same, so I swallow any impatience as she turns and inspects me. The light reveals what the darkness—and I—have hidden. The cut above my eye is beginning to swell and turn yellow and purple. Tomorrow it will be black and blue. The bruise above my cheekbone is light and looks only slightly darker than if I were flushed, which only happens when I’m in a heightened state of arousal.

  My trunk took the most abuse. I’ve got darkening bruises on my ribs and upper thighs. Tiny looks anguished. “How could you make love to me while you were all beat up?”

  “Truthfully, I couldn’t feel it. The urge to be inside you overrode any other sensory input.”

  She shakes her head in disbelief. “You should never have touched me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because if I had, you wouldn’t have let me touch you,” I answer with a touch of asperity.

  Throwing up her hands, she turns and rummages around in the closet until she finds a spare set of sheets. I follow her meekly into the bedroom. “You could have mentioned something when you arrived for dinner.”

  “I didn’t see a moment when I could interject ‘Hey, got mugged down on Hudson Street’ into the conversation.”

  “Down by your office?” She pauses in the act of shaking out the bottom sheet.

  “In the alley next to my building.”

  “This is my fault, isn’t it?”

  In two quick strides, I’m around the bed and have her in my arms. “How could this possibly be your fault?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Shit, Tiny. Maybe Richard Howe figured out I’m trying to ruin him. If anything, I should be sorry for bringing you into this mess.”

  At the mention of Howe’s name, her body stiffens. “I hate that man.”

  “Me too, but it’s late and we both have shit to do tomorrow. Let’s make this damn bed because we’ve had a long day and I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted.” I nip at her neck.

  “Fine,” she says grumpily. “When should we go to see Mom?”

  “With Hedder? Never.”

  “But Ian, he asked. I know he’s bad news, but I don’t think a graveside visit is going to do much harm. You’re overreacting.”

  I bite down on my tongue and swallow my first harsh response, which is that she’s being far too benevolent.

  “Your beloved mother died just a few weeks ago. It’s difficult to make rational decisions right now. I know. I’ve been there.” I run my hand through her hair, smoothing the strands along my chest. “You want to be with people who cared for her, who’ll bring her alive for you. I made a lot of terrible choices after my mom died. I wish someone had been there for me.”

  She thinks about this. “Malcolm will go with us. Or at least that’s what Mitch said.”

  My patience snaps. “Oh, great. Your drug dealing, pimp stepbrother will go with your con artist stepfather. That’s not a disaster in the making.”

  “Let’s not forget how we met,” she replies tartly.

  “We met on the street between 7th and 52nd.”

  “Not the second time.”

  “Right, he sent you to me,” I point out.

  “He didn’t know what you needed,” she argues.

  I want to shake her. Is she being deliberately obtuse? “I went to him because he runs a high class escort service, and he sent you to me. He tried to fucking sell you.” I’m outraged on her behalf. Just the thought of Malcolm treating her like a whore makes me
want to drive to Queens so I can break him in half. My hold on her turns rigid in an effort not to hurt her while I fantasize about pounding Malcolm until his face is bloody and unrecognizable.

  “Then I should be just as afraid of you,” she retorts.

  “I turned you down,” I shoot back. “I asked you to dinner. I wanted to date you, not buy you.”

  “What’s all of this, then? My clothes? This home? The driver?” She waves her arms around, trying to gesture at everything.

  “It’s me loving you,” I roar.

  Her chest is heaving. I collapse on the pillows behind me, my arms spread in complete surrender. “Bunny, I fucking love you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Do you really think they’d hurt me?” She scuttles up against the headboard and folds her knees under her chin. I hear the pain in her voice, the loneliness that I can’t chase away—not even with all the money in the world. It makes me feel helpless and angry, but I know she doesn’t need that now or ever. I shouldn’t ever raise my voice to her. I lay my palm next to her thigh, hoping she’ll touch it and give me a sign of forgiveness.

  “Not intentionally.” She doesn’t want to believe what little family she has left would be so cruel to her, but these are not good men. One tried to prostitute her out without her knowing, and the other returned to try to profit from her mother’s death.

  “You can’t wrap me up in bubble wrap. I’m not going to sit here in the warehouse and eat chocolates all day.”

  “I’ve not ever asked you to do that.” But I’m going to protect her with everything in me, even if it pisses her off.

  “Hmmph,” she snorts. “I’m capable of taking care of myself. I was doing it fine before you came along.”

  Is the implication that she would also be fine if I left? Because that isn’t happening.

  “I don’t doubt it, but you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” I say, gathering the weak reins of my self-control.

  Her hand drifts down and lightly touches my palm. I remain motionless, allowing her to sort through her feelings. Her index finger traces the lines of my palm, an erotic feeling if there ever was one. I shift slightly as the blood starts collecting in my groin. She can crank my engine with a feather-light touch. Doesn’t she realize how much power she has in her smallest finger? I’d crawl across glass to make her happy, and I’d endure a thousand nights of cold shoulders and a sexless bed if it would keep her safe.

  “I know that they aren’t concerned with my best interests like you are. And I know Mitch wants something.” She stretches out her fingers and interlaces them with mine. I close my hand around hers. It’s reassuring to hear her acknowledge Hedder’s bad intent. “I can’t deny him the trip, though. Mom wouldn’t want that. Be vigilant but kind, she would say.”

  “That sounds like Sophie, wise and generous.” My thumb rubs along hers. “Will you let me come, then? Just as an escort. I’ll stay in the car. You won’t even know I’m there.” But I’ll be out of the car in a flash should anyone cause you to stumble. Before they blink, I’ll be on them.

  “If I say no?” she asks.

  “I’ll follow you anyway,” I admit.

  “At least you’re honest,” she sighs. A twinge of guilt causes me to tighten my grip. It doesn’t pass unnoticed by Tiny. “What?” she asks with challenge.

  “I might have left out a small bit of information about my earlier altercation.”

  “A small bit,” she says sarcastically.

  “Infinitesimal.” I roll over on my side to face her, still holding her hand.

  “So small you didn’t think it was important to divulge, right?”

  “More like, so small I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “But you’re going to tell me now, right? Because you’re honest with me?” Her eyebrow is cocked, and I can tell this is a test.

  With a sigh, I give in. “I have one of the attackers stashed in Kaga’s basement.”

  “Ian Kerr. Why didn’t you tell me this before?” She tugs to get loose of my grip, but I won’t let her.

  “Listen now. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. He might not tell me anything. I promise that he’s been fed and treated properly. Tomorrow we’ll let him go if he doesn’t cough up any information. Now come here and tend to my wounds, woman.”

  I tug on her hand. She resists for a moment and then slides down next to me.

  “You have to make sure I get a good night’s rest before I confront Big Guy tomorrow.” I settle her into our sleeping position: her head on my shoulder; my arm curled around her back; her leg on top of my thighs.

  “Big Guy?”

  “They haven’t divulged their names. I dubbed them Big Guy and Small Guy.”

  She snorts and all is right in the world. We made love, fought, and now we’re entangled together once again.

  THIRTEEN

  KAGA’S HOLDING ROOM DOESN’T LOOK much better in the morning. Down below the Aquarium club, there was little to distinguish between night and day. Big Guy had been provided a candle; its wick was nearly burned out when we opened the door. He didn’t have the look of a hungry man, and less than twenty-four hours had passed. We had done nothing physical to him, but isolation and darkness can be its own punishment.

  I lean against the door frame, with Kaga holding the heavy door open behind me. “Ready to talk?”

  His face looks uncertain but a glance at the nearly burned out candle prompts a response. “What?” The question is pure frightened belligerence.

  “How about we start with your name?”

  He relaxes slightly and shakes his head. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

  “You’re wrong.” Kaga remains silent. This is my show. “Not only can I keep you here forever, but no one would even know. Except perhaps your brother?” I make an educated guess based on the likeness of their features. He starts, eyes darting around as if worried that we have his sibling locked up in a neighboring cell. “How will he explain this to the police? He can’t very well claim that the two of you were involved in a botched assault that led to your disappearance.”

  “Might as well let me go. Not talking,” he says mulishly. He recognizes that if we haven’t called the police by now, we aren’t going to. Yet he’s not smart enough to appreciate what kind of danger he’s in.

  “You should have come at me with the knife first. Why pull that out as backup instead of leading with your strong hand?” I ask. That part has puzzled me all night.

  There’s no immediate verbal response, but I watch his body carefully. His shoulders slump, and the look on his face is one of worry rather than fear. Kaga and I wait him out. Finally he says, “Didn’t want to kill you. We’re not into that. Just rough you up.”

  “No point in giving me a beating if you don’t attach it to a verbal warning. Otherwise it’s just a random attack with no deterrent. So what’s my warning?”

  His eyes jerk to mine with surprise, as if he just realized he had missed the most important part of this whole charade. “You got so many enemies you don’t know which one is hiring out a beating?”

  Kaga bursts out laughing. He continues to howl so hard he doubles over and the door slips from his grip. I have to catch the metal slab before it slams shut. Straightening, I walk out. This guy needs more time to think—this time without the candle. I start to close the door.

  “Wait,” he says with alarm. “This is kidnapping.”

  “I prefer to think of it as having a guest, but you can use a different term if you like.” I shut the door before he can say anything else. Turning to Kaga, I resist the urge to shove my knee into his face. He manages to gain control and stands up, hands on his hips. “Thanks, asshole.”

  “You have to admit, that’s kind of funny. This guy doesn’t have a message for you because whoever hired him thought you would know who it was.”

  “What kind of message is an assault?” I complain. “I’m not some random gambler who can’t pay my debts. Hitting me i
sn’t going to do anything but make me angry. Frankly, this is the kind of show of force that bookies and drug dealers like to carry out. So while my first thought was Howe, I don’t think the Hedders can be scratched off the list. Anyone else is going to come at me in the boardroom or trading floor with cash and liquidated assets, not with fists and knives.”

  Kaga nods in agreement. “You’ll figure it out. What do you want me to do with our friend?”

  “Let him stew for a few more hours and then let him go. It’s a crying shame when you can’t buy people off. I didn’t know loyalty existed.”

  “It’s probably fear-based silence,” he observes.

  I agree. “Then it’s probably Howe, because he got those three women to clam up tighter than a duck’s ass.” Three women I’d tried to buy off to come forward and ruin Howe had all resisted the money I threw at them. That was when I turned to Malcolm Hedder in the hopes of hiring someone who would get me sufficient texts, pictures, or video of Howe to cause his wife to leave him and his family to disown him.

  When Cecilia filed for divorce, I’d bring the full power of Kerr Inc. down on top of him. I held the majority of his debts, quietly buying them up through different shell corporations. It would be easy enough to tip him into bankruptcy.

  Except I fell for Tiny and couldn’t bring myself to use her in that fashion, which left me without a way to separate Howe from his family. At least, for now.

  “Speaking of Howe, what’s Tiny doing this morning?” Kaga asks.

  We head upstairs to Kaga’s office. Even on the main floor, it’s hard to know the time of day because of the lack of windows. The only way to mark time inside the Aquarium is by the number of people that are present. The bar is eerily silent as the only inhabitants this morning are Kaga and I. Priya won’t come in until the afternoon.

  “Steve took her to Jake’s.”

  “How does she enjoy her new job?”

  “Seems like she hates it,” I admit.

  “Rough.”

  “Yup.”

  “You having Steve follow her everywhere?”