We are scanned, and I thankfully remember to click the watch off before clicking it back on afterward.
“Mr. Smith.” Donny nods his head to the old man, while he gives Donny an assessing look before his eyes drift to me.
“This him?” he asks, his voice gravelly and wheezy at the same time.
“Phoenix Conway,” Donny announces, waving out a hand for me to step forward.
Why do I feel as though I’m being sold here? Not that I have much of a choice in doing anything else.
I step forward. “Hello, um, Mr. Smith,” I offer, thinking I said the wrong thing when Smith lets out a booming chuckle.
He steps around me, assessing me in a way I really don’t like. “You look like you’ve been beaten up recently. Angus can’t keep his family safe?” Smith asks.
Since Donny doesn’t look like he’s going to answer, I do.
“This is my father’s work.”
Smith finds this hilarious, which I don’t find surprising. Dad keeps the nicest friends.
“You couldn’t have upset him too much. You still have all your limbs,” he points out. “However, I’m afraid this is not going to be your day.”
Before I can decipher what he means, he turns to the side and nods at one of his men, who takes one step forward, twists a little, and when he straightens up, a fist is coming at me fast. He punches me hard in my gut, and I crouch over, dropping to my knees as the wind gets completely knocked out of me.
“What the hell?” Donny demands, a gun now held loosely in his hand, while the two men who came with us point their weapons at Smith and his men.
I’m coughing, attempting to catch a breath, when Smith holds up his hands.
“Boys, boys, calm down. I simply owed Angus a knock, and he’s not here to receive it. I consider us even now.”
I expect some sort of retribution from Donny. I mean, am I just expected to take every form of punishment my dad deserves? That will be a sure way for me to be dead before Christmas. Instead, Donny just gives Smith a nod of understanding, hauls me to my feet, and pushes me slightly behind him.
“We brought him on good faith,” he mutters, then motions for his men to put their weapons down.
They do immediately. Soon after, Smith’s men are doing the same.
“Do you agree to our terms?” Donny asks.
The old man stares at me for a while, his eyes roaming over me in a creepy way. When he shifts his eyes back to Donny, he is back to being serious and full of business.
“Five hundred large up front, and the debt is yours.”
I want to ask what debt they are talking about, but I don’t open my mouth.
Donny nods at one of the men, who then leaves out the front, meaning we are even more outnumbered now. He reenters moments later, carrying two large duffle bags.
The tension-filled room turns critical as a handover is made. Then one of Mr. Smith’s men goes through the bags, weighing them on a scale I didn’t notice in the corner of the room.
“You have your father’s eyes,” the old man says to me, his gaze back to watching me intently.
I don’t think that’s meant to be an insult, but I hate that he points it out. Unfortunately, there is a lot about me that looks like my father. I have seen photos of him and Mom from when they were first together, and we look almost identical.
I always wished I looked more like her side of the family. Typical that he dominated my life for so long, and now that I thought I was free of him, he dominates my genes, too.
I don’t respond, and thankfully, he doesn’t seem like he expects me to.
He turns his head to his man weighing the bags, and when he gets a nod, he turns back to face us with a grim smile on his lips.
“Good doing business with you boys. I wish you well in your endeavor,” he says cryptically then he and his men leave, going out the back again while Donny makes his move toward the front door.
I’m tense the entire time I follow, half-expecting something to go wrong and for there to be a shoot-out or something. However, it’s all mundane as we enter the SUV and are back out on the road again within minutes.
I hold my arm delicately over my stomach. That man must have had a steel fist with the way I’m aching. At least I won’t need to explain this new bruise to Scarlett since no one will see it.
“So, that wasn’t so bad,” Donny announces, looking more relaxed and at ease as he stares at me.
“Easy for you to say. No one punched you,” I angrily spit out.
“Sometimes, you just need to take one for the team.”
“I’m not part of your team, Donny. I never was, and I never will be.”
That goes for more ways than one. I may have my father’s blood, but we live in different worlds.
How many meetings has he gone into like that, when he’s been outnumbered and there was the potential to be killed? How can he keep doing shit like this and still think my father is a great man?
“We’ll see about that,” he threatens. At least, I take it as a threat.
If Donny thinks there is any possibility I will want back into my father’s world, he has obviously taken more hits to the head than is safe.
“Are we going back to my restaurant now? Am I done?” I ask, hoping there isn’t more I am expected to do tonight. That might have gone well, but I still feel jittery and freaked out, especially because I don’t know what my father just paid half a million dollars for.
I run a restaurant, which has its own stress. I can handle low staff, irate customers, the health department, and a food order coming in short, but put me in a volatile situation that involves guns, I don’t handle that well at all.
“Yes, we’re taking you back,” Donny assures me.
I feel his eyes on me, studying me for some unknown reason. Maybe he’s wondering where the kid he left behind went, too?
“When will we have to do the next meeting?” I ask, glancing over to see he is facing me, his side against the seat, his back to the door. It’s unnerving how much closer he has moved toward me.
“I’ll call you to let you know.”
“Can you give me more than five minutes’ notice next time?” I ask, thinking I’m going to have a heart attack before I turn thirty-one if this keeps up.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we don’t tend to get much notice on these things ourselves, and your father doesn’t trust you. You’re fucking the asshole who helped put him away. What is to stop you from telling him about it?”
I can’t exactly deny the truth in that, even if Harvey and I aren’t fucking.
“Whatever we did tonight, it was illegal,” I point out.
“And if you had involved Newberry or the police, and Smith found out, then we wouldn’t be in this car unharmed right now. In fact, we’d be dead.”
“And that doesn’t scare you? You’re willing to keep doing this shit, knowing you could be killed? Knowing it’s wrong?” I leave the unharmed comment alone. My stomach sure as hell doesn’t feel unharmed.
Donny gives a one-shoulder shrug, seeming unaffected by my words. “I do what I must. This isn’t all I do. I have an important role to play.”
Those words sound like my father’s. I wonder when he started brainwashing Donny into being the son he could never have from me. Was it all the way back when we were eight? Right at the beginning?
“A role in what?”
“My time will come, Nix.” He sounds so confident that I’m compelled to glance away.
My father created a mini version of himself. He must be so proud.
“Like I said earlier,” he continues, “don’t get attached to the P.I. He keeps sticking his nose where it isn’t wanted, he’ll find out just how well that will go for him.”
“Kind of an empty threat when you need me,” I nervously point out.
For how long will that be true?
As if Donny can read my mind, his next words echo those thoughts.
�
�Your father won’t need you forever, Nix. People like him don’t survive in our world.” There is clear disdain in his voice.
I feel disgust build inside me. Donny and I were close growing up, despite our differences. It wasn’t until after I came out to him, a couple months before I came out to Dad, that things changed between us. He became distant, quiet, and then we stopped speaking once Dad had his freak out. Donny never came out and said it was because I was gay, but I always knew deep down that was why. He can barely talk about Harvey without looking like he wants to punch something.
“People like him? You mean, like me?” I snap. “I never took you for a homophobe. My father really has poisoned you.”
“I’m not a homophobe,” Donny instantly denies. “Look, things are different now. People from Angus’s era, well, they haven’t caught up yet. Maybe they never will. Things like that don’t matter to most of us.” His eyes move briefly to the front of the car before he turns back to look at me.
I can’t help snorting at his idealistic bullshit.
“Things are changing, Nix.” He rests his hand on top of mine, the action so gentle I freeze. “I’ve changed,” he says softly.
My mouth drops open at the insinuation.
“We’re here,” one of the guys in the front announces.
I expect Donny to instantly shift his hand away from mine, but he doesn’t move it.
“I’ll be in touch soon.”
When he caresses my hand with his thumb, I instantly pull away, practically leaping out of the SUV and racing toward my darkened restaurant. Then I pull out my keys with shaking hands to unlock the door.
The wind is cold, the air frosty, and I have no idea if I’m shaking from being inadequately dressed for this or because what just happened is catching up to me.
That was scarier and more intense than I ever expected. I want to hit something knowing there are more of those situations to come.
I’m just a regular guy trying to keep his business alive. Why does this have to happen to me? Why can’t I just be left alone in peace?
My key finally finds purchase in the lock, and I twist it open, flying through the door in my eagerness to get inside. I hear the SUV drive away as I hastily lock the door behind me, clicking my watch for good measure.
If Harvey is listening, I don’t want him to hear what I need to do next. I feel like I need to break something, or maybe just break apart.
After being trapped in a state of fear and helplessness for hours, I can already feel it crumbling away, leaving me hollow and alone.
It takes a moment to realize the alarm should have gone off by now. I glance at the pad, discovering the alarm hasn’t been set. Scarlett must have forgotten.
I glance at my watch, seeing it’s nearing one a.m. At least it hasn’t been long between the place closing and me getting here. We have never been robbed before, but I don’t want to tempt fate. My luck has already proven it ran out over this cheery holiday season.
I move through the storage area, through the kitchen, and out into the hallway. Glancing out into the restaurant, I find it’s dark and looks to be all shut off. I contemplate checking the registers to make sure they have been put away, since that’s something Scarlett has forgotten to do in the past, but I can’t be bothered. There is a bottle of scotch in my office with my name on it.
When I walk down the hallway, I see my office door is open and my desk lamp is on.
“What the …?” I mutter, peeking into my office to find Harvey inside.
Chapter 10
When I enter the doorway, he whips around to face me.
“How are you in—”
Those are the only words I get out before Harvey stomps his way over to me, grabs my shirt, and pulls me against him. He crushes my lips with his as he swings us around, manhandling me until my ass hits my desk. Then he leans into me, his lips never ceasing their attack as he reaches over and sweeps a hand out across my desk, sending paperwork flying in every direction before he steps into me and forces me to sit.
After feeling like shit for hours on end, this kiss is everything. It centers me, it consumes me, and I let myself fall into it, welcoming how the pleasure overrides the discomfort of my battered body. His kisses are bruising, yet they are exactly what I need.
He cups my face, moving me until he can bring his lips down harder, pressing his body against mine so I feel how turned on he is.
I almost protest when he pulls away, but then I hold my tongue when he doesn’t move far. He pulls at my knitted sweater until it likely loses its shape, and once it’s off, he throws it somewhere in the corner. Next, he rips at my shirt, buttons flying all around us, before he tears it off me completely.
He pauses now, looking over my chest, and I glance down, seeing the large, reddening skin from where that asshole punched me. I will have another large, ugly bruise by morning.
Harvey looks even more thunderous.
When I reach out to touch his face, he jolts out of his trance and gets back to work. He pulls at my belt until it flings off, landing somewhere behind him. Then he yanks down my pants and underwear, leaving me naked in my office while he stands over me fully clothed.
I shiver in excitement when he steps back, removing his own clothes slowly and methodically.
“Touch yourself,” he directs.
Without a thought, since most of my brain cells have travelled south, I do as he says, spitting into my hand before pumping my dick as I watch him slowly reveal himself to me.
I don’t know what has set him off, or why he’s chosen now to start this, but there is no fucking way I’m putting a stop to it.
First, he whips off his T-shirt, revealing his chest. His bruises are still there, as well as the cuts more visible over his arms. There are a handful of tattoos I never noticed before, like some sort of military insignia on his shoulder, dog tags over his breastplate that I thought looked like a bruise the other night, and a few other ones scattered over him that I don’t get the chance to focus on since he shifts down to remove his shoes, socks, and then his pants. Soon, he just has his briefs on.
I pump my hand faster as I hold my breath, waiting for the last piece of material to be removed.
Moving agonizingly slow, he removes his briefs, his hard cock springing free, before he hides it from me when he crouches down to kick his briefs off.
I have to say, while there was no swagger to the strip, no music or teasing, it’s still the best strip show I have ever seen.
Harvey’s body is sensational and the perfect distraction I need right now. A work of art, his shoulders and chest are wide, his thighs powerful stumps. His entire body is solid muscle mass.
“I want inside you,” he says as he stands before me naked, gripping his cock and squeezing it. “Nix? Say something now if you want this to stop.”
If I had the ability to make any other noise except a moan, I would be shocked. I have been waiting for this since Sunday. As far as I’m concerned, this is four days late.
I wobble on my legs, moving to the front of the desk and pulling out lube and condoms. That should be answer enough.
When I first walked inside, I knew I was going to drown myself in booze and maybe a mini-meltdown or two. Now I know I’m going to have Harvey fill me, and that is infinitely better.
When I come back around the desk, I expect him to bend me over it. In fact, I’m salivating for it. However, he shoves me back up on it facing him, kissing me again, our dicks touching when he leans me flat over my desk.
I expect this to be hard and fast.
I want that.
I need it that way.
But Harvey takes his time, worshiping my mouth while each slide of our dicks sends electric shocks straight through my balls.
I need him; can’t he see that?
His mouth is magic, and after mesmerizing my mouth, he kisses down my jaw, scraping his teeth along my stubble and sucking my Adam’s apple.
I jolt my hips, needing more friction, more
anything, but he wraps his hands around my hips and locks me in place.
I growl in frustration. All that gets me is him moving slowly down my body; licks, nips, and kisses feathering over my skin, bites scraping along my oversensitive nipples. Then he works his way farther down.
He’s careful over my waist, only kissing me lightly there, before dropping to his knees.
“Harvey,” I gasp, my breath catching in my throat when he takes his first lick of my dick.
Just like he has been since we started this, he is slow, licking from the patch of hair at my base then sucking over my head.
I’m moaning, thrashing beneath his hold, but he doesn’t let up, and he doesn’t give me what I need.
“Please,” I beg, lifting up to watch his mouth work over me.
He stands, pushing me onto my back before he moves his hands from my hips to my knees. He shoves my legs upward, exposing all of me to him. The slight pain over my gut is barely noticeable as he signals for me to hold myself in this position.
I can barely think straight as he reaches out for the condoms and lube.
After wrapping himself, he squeezes the lube over his fingers before leaning back over me. He suctions his mouth over my cock while fondling my balls with one hand and moving his other to my crease.
“Shit!” I gasp, feeling him at my hole as he teases the tender skin, entering me only a little before he pulls away.
I’m not sure how much I can take of this torture.
“Harvey, please,” I beg, desperate for him to take me.
So many sensations are hitting me, from my cock, to my balls, to my hole. I’m a withering mess by the time he pops his mouth off me, moving his hands away from me while I pant, my legs flopping downward.
“Turn around,” he says.
When I don’t move fast enough, which is more to do with me feeling like my body is made of jelly than not wanting to move, he helps flip me over.
A shiver of excitement rolls over me as he reaches for the lube again, drizzling some over my crack, and then more over his own condom-clad cock.
“You look so fucking hot, Nix. I can’t wait to get inside this tight hole,” he puffs out, working his fingers faster, pumping in and out and stretching me in the most delicious way. When his fingers brush my prostate, I feel nothing but hot, sizzling pleasure.
I Broke Into His Office (Love at First Crime Book 4) Page 12
