Devil You Know

by Max Henry

  “Jane, you don’t get it unless you see it. Some of those people are like I was: hungry, desperate, and out of options. They don’t have a choice. But instead of showing them how they can get themselves out of the hole they’re in, I drag them deeper into the mud.

  “I’ve never been there when they’ve been dealt with; we drop them off, and go. But I’ve heard about it. I’ve heard about what they do. It’s not a slap on the hand, Jane.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” I sigh, and shift so that I’m lying with my head tucked into the side of his chest. He wraps his arm over my shoulders, and rests his lips on my forehead. “How do the other guys feel about what you all do?”

  “Bronx does the same as me, but Ty is the pencil-pusher out of us. He collates the info on where to find people, and how to get to them. We’ve done pretty well to keep out of the uglier side of things, until now.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “One of the outfits we do work for; he wants us to take care of the punishments as well. Reckons it’s taking up too much of his time, and is trying to strike a deal with Ty to outsource the work.”

  “Who’s ‘he’?”

  “The club president.”

  “Surely Ty has the right to say no?”

  “As he does to take us out if he feels we’re too much of a liability to his business. It’s a fine line we walk, being mercenaries. Everyone wants you on his or her side, but nobody trusts you. You don’t work hard enough on keeping those connections, you’re out.”

  I frown. “But I thought you said there was no out.”

  “Out, Jane. As in dead. Gone”

  “Oh.” Fear sweeps over me at the thought that the people Malice works for would top him if he ever slacked off. No wonder he stays as fit as he does; I bet there’s no room for error. “Does that scare you? The thought of being . . . outed?”

  “Sometimes. It sure keeps you in line. Let’s say I haven’t had a sick day in a while.” He chuckles.

  I’m not finding this funny, in the slightest. “I don’t understand, though. You don’t associate with these people other than the ‘work’ you do, so what’s stopping you from slipping out of town one night?”

  “I wish it were that easy, babe. They have eyes everywhere. The guy I just mentioned knows I have you here.”

  I sit upright, and stare at him with a frown in place. “What? How?”

  “Mario keeps tabs on everything, Jane. He didn’t get to be the president by not knowing how to keep his thumb on everything, and everybody.”

  “Are there people watching now? Like, does he have people following you?”

  “Not all the time.” He shakes his head. “It’s like . . . random inspections I guess.”

  “How do you know?” I ask. “How do you know, that he knows about me?”

  “He asked me if you were going to be a liability.”

  My blood runs cold. I’m never going to be safe from the people in the world who can hurt me. Dylan, Malice when he’s angry, Malice’s boss—I’m surrounded by risks. Everywhere.

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  “I told him you knew nothing about what I do.”

  “You lied?”

  “Not exactly. Back then you didn’t.”

  “So, let me get this straight. If we went our separate ways, I’d be at risk.”

  “Only if you showed signs of knowing about what he does, what we do.”

  He says it so casually, like it’s the kind of risk people come across day-to-day. I can’t decide if I’m angry at him for putting me in this situation, or if I’m scared at the thought of a gang following me, watching me, assessing me.

  “I’d never let them get to you,” he assures.

  “But they could, right? I mean, they got Tigger.”

  His expression hardens, and I know I struck a chord. “No, Carlos got Tigger.”

  We could argue about this for days, and still never reach a satisfactory position. He works for what I assume to be biker gangs, drug outfits and worse. He’s watched, and therefore, so am I. What can we do about it now? Nothing.

  “What’s done is done,” I say, and settle into his side once more. “At least now I know its not only Dylan I need to watch for when I’m out.”

  “They won’t harm you,” he says. “They’ll watch you, and watch me, but they won’t hurt you if you’re no risk to them.”

  “Malice?”

  “Yeah?” He strokes the hair off my face, and tips my chin so I face him.

  “Now you’ve told me all of that, do you feel any different? About us?”

  “I do, actually. I’m not so worried you’ll try to run.”

  “That’s not funny,” I say.

  He smiles wryly, and kisses the tip of my nose. “I didn’t mean because of them.” He chuckles. “I meant, I told you all of that and you didn’t panic; you didn’t freak out. You looked at the situation rationally.”

  “That’s what you think,” I joke. “You didn’t feel my heartbeat when you dropped that on me.”

  “I’m serious, Jane. They won’t hurt you. You don’t pose a threat to them. I can tell you now, the only day you need to worry is the day I don’t come home.”

  I look up at him, and frown. “Why?”

  “If ever I don’t show up and you can’t get hold of me, you leave. You hear me?”

  I nod.

  “If I get outed, then they’ll clear up the loose ends, and that means you. If I go missing, you become invisible. Understand?”

  “I wish you’d told me this at the start.” I sigh. “I might have tried the other neighbor out instead.”

  “I would have paid him a visit.” He smiles. “You would’ve been on my doorstep before you knew it.”

  “You’re unstoppable.” I swat at his chest.

  “Only with you.” He leans down, and meets my lips with a tender kiss. I pull away, and Malice rests his forehead to mine.

  “I’m glad you came over that day.” Malice sighs, and closes his eyes. ”Help me be better, Jane. If only for you.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” I say, and kiss him lightly. “You’re a hard nut to crack.”

  “That I am.” He leans back, and crushes me with a smile—a genuinely happy one. The kind he rarely dishes out. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Like I’m swimming through custard, but okay.”

  “Thinking you might die scared me,” he admits.

  I look to the floor, to Rocco, to anywhere but the pain in his eyes. “I know.” It would have scared me, too, had the situation been reversed.

  His fingers rub a slow rhythm over my knuckles. He watches the movement, our breathing the only sounds that fill the quiet house. It’s a sweet moment of intimacy, and what I love most is that I don’t feel pressure to take it further. He’s not pushing me for more, and in turn, that makes me want to give it to him.

  I feel comfortable.

  I feel safe.

  I feel like making love to this man.

  One foot after the other, I step off the couch and lead him up the hallway. He follows with a curious look in his eye, like he’s not sure we should be doing this when I’m so fresh out of hospital.

  “Are you sure you’re up for it?” he asks as we enter what I’ve now dubbed ‘our’ room.

  “As long as you’re gentle with me.” I smile.

  He runs the backs of his fingers along my jaw. I lean in to the touch, totally addicted to the way his skin feels against mine.

  Malice takes the lead, letting his fingers wander down my body until he has the hem of my shirt in his hands. I lift my arms and let him undress me, reveling in the care, and adoration he displays. I use his shoulder for balance as he lifts my feet one by one to remove my denim shorts. His palms skim my legs, from ankle to thigh as he stands. A moan falls from my lips. All the previous worries melt into nothing. Every illegal club, or gang in the state could be watching us right now and I’d still take the time to have this with him.

  I need t
o feel him, to connect—to be us.

  His shoulders are firm, and tense under my hands as I circle his neck and lean up for a kiss. Our lips connect and the room vanishes into a blur of inconsequential information that I have no need to focus on right now. It’s him, it’s me, and it’s how we talk best—without words.

  Malice nips at my bottom lip, and I take a step back to coax him to the bed. He grumbles as I pull away, but having him dressed simply won’t cut it. My fingers make quick work of his belt, and our mouths reconnect as I push the denim of his jeans over his hips and down his legs. He steps from foot to foot, kicking them free without breaking our kiss.

  I lift his shirt, and he grumbles again as he breaks away to yank it over his head. He pitches it across the room, and drops his boxers. I can’t stop myself—it would be rude not to look.

  My mouth waters.

  Taking things slow becomes a ludicrous request made at a time when I wasn’t faced with the fine man before me. Did I seriously think I’d be able to wait? Still certifiable.

  My hands fly to my bra, and I discard my underwear in record time. Malice takes a slow sweep of me, and with a gentle shove to my shoulder, urges me onto the bed.

  “Spread them, babe.”

  I widen my legs, and close my eyes in anticipation. Inhibitions, be damned—I want to take hold of his hair and pull him in.

  His breath tickles my sensitive flesh, and I hiss at the tingles that fire through my core. The man is going to have me come from the power of his stare alone. I bite my lip, on the verge of complaining when his tongue takes a wide sweep of my swollen flesh. Something akin to a groan mixed with a squeal slips out, and I bite down once again as he begins to lap, and taste the arousal that builds within me.

  The small moans and sighs he makes as he feasts drive me crazy. All I can think of is having his taste on my tongue.

  “Malice . . .” I whine. When the hell did I get so needy?

  “Babe,” he utters between laps.

  “I want to taste you.”

  “Fuck,” he hisses, and quickly changes position so that he can continue to drink like a dying man as I take his erection in my mouth.

  My tongue swirls over the head, and I draw my breath in to pull tight along the soft skin of his shaft. His rhythm breaks, and his focus on the task at hand wanes as I get to work on him.

  “Jesus, Jane.”

  I hum as I bob my head, enjoying the groan of pleasure from him that vibrates through my pussy. Desperate to bring him over the edge, I wrap my right hand around him, and use my left to rub my clit while he plunges his tongue inside of me.

  I’m fucking close.

  And the pressure still builds.

  Jesus.

  Malice pulls free, and kneels back on the bed. I run the back of my hand over my mouth, and smile at him.

  “What’s up?”

  “I think you know,” he says, and nods down at his thick erection. “Tuck your knees to your chest.”

  I do as told, and lie on my back, legs up. Malice positions himself at my entrance, and then takes both of my ankles in his hand, pushing my legs over my head. The resulting action lifts my ass off the bed, and he groans in pleasure at the sight of my swollen center on display for him.

  Slowly, he pushes inside, and to say the angle he gets is amazing would be an understatement. Every thrust nudges the sweet spot, and within seconds I’m panting, and whining beneath him as he pushes harder with every stroke. I eye-fuck him, watching his muscles move. The sight of his forearm and bicep hard at work to push my legs over my head is the most intense turn-on. A man at work is sexy enough, but this man, at work on me is ecstasy.

  “Malice,” I cry out as his pace brings me to the precipice. “Don’t stop.”

  He responds with shorter, harder thrusts.

  We crash together, a tangle of sweaty, desperate bodies, clawing for more from an already incredible high.

  Spent, he flops down beside me, and grins. I stretch out my tight legs, and grin back. “I hate to eat and run, but I need to go clean up.”

  He laughs. “No problem, babe. I don’t think I could move if I tried.” His sharp eyes meet mine, and a delicious shiver works down my spine. “Was that gentle enough?”

  “Gentle is over-rated,” I reply, and hobble to the adjacent bathroom to the sound of his laughter.

  “HAVE YOU spoken to your dad yet?” I place a mug of coffee down before Malice, and join him on the couch.

  He shakes his head. “He tried calling, but I’ve been busy with things, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. Has he told you why he rang, now? I mean, you said it’s been ages since you last spoke.”

  “He reckons he’s changed. Said he wants to see me face to face.”

  “Maybe he wants to apologize? Set things straight?”

  Malice’s eyes lift from my hand. “What if he doesn’t? I don’t know if I could handle my reaction if he’s only after something—if he doesn’t care still.”

  “I’m sure he cares.”

  His expression softens. “What was it like, learning your parents hadn’t forgotten about you? That they missed you?”

  I sigh, and think about the conversations I’ve had with Mom since our brief chat at the coffee shop. We’ve had a few brief talks over the phone, but the unspoken cloud of remorse hangs about whenever we do. Those years were wasted, and I don’t think the thought of that will ever stop saddening me.

  “It was hard,” I say. “I’m not going to lie. It hurt knowing I wasted all that time, knowing I might have had a way out after all.”

  His lips quirk to a small smile, and I scoot closer so that I lean into his side. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and pulls me tight. “You can’t change your past, Jane. Just look at it this way—at least you have them now.”

  “I guess that’s a good way of seeing it.”

  We sit in silence for a while, Malice running his fingers through my hair, sipping his coffee every so often, and me drawing lazy circles on his leg with my finger. He kisses the top of my head, and sighs.

  “We’ve still got something else we need to talk about.”

  My heart picks up pace, and my body tenses.

  “It’s not bad,” he reassures me. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

  I chuckle with him, and pull back to look at his face. He smiles, and traces my jaw.

  “You need to stop worrying so much, Jane.”

  “It’s kind of hard not to with the way things have gone of late.” My mood sours, and he coaxes my dropping chin up with a finger.

  “Stop. I’ll tell you when you need to be worried. Okay? Stop with the needless worrying.”

  “What did you want to talk about?” I ask. The sooner we get it out in the open, the sooner I can stop worrying—maybe.

  “My house in town.”

  Next to him. “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want to live there anymore.”

  “Malice,” I say, and sit up straight. “I can’t make you change your whole life for me.”

  “I already have,” he says with a stoic expression. “Besides, I can’t live there with the memories of what he did to you.”

  “And I can’t live there with you if it’s next door to him . . . right?”

  He nods at my assumption. “Exactly. I want you with me, and it wouldn’t work out there. Sooo . . .”

  I gesture for him to continue, and stop dragging this torture out.

  “I thought we could find somewhere together.”

  “I like it here?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “This is Ty’s holiday home. He’s been good enough to let us have it this long. I can’t expect to have it permanently.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s no hassle. We’ll find somewhere.”

  I nod, and stare at my hands, winding in the hem of my shirt. “I’m sure we will, it’s just—”

  “What?”

  “I have no money, Malice. I haven’t been able to get a job yet. How will I
pay my half?”

  “What half?” He smirks.

  I narrow my gaze on him. If he thinks I’m going to keep on this free ride from him, he has another thing coming.

  “I have enough to sort us out, Jane. Don’t stress about it. You feel bad by accepting what I’m offering? I feel bad that you won’t damn well accept.”

  Point made. It is rude of me to continue to push his generosity back in his face. Still, it doesn’t make taking his handouts any easier.

  “What if I can’t get a job, ever? What if there’s nothing out there for me for a long time?” I ask. “I don’t want you burdening my share for too long.”

  “What if I don’t want you to work?”

  I stare at him, unsure where he’s heading with this.

  “Babe, I’ve watched you, and thought about having you for so long. I don’t want to lose you to some other jackass for fifty hours a week. I want you here when I’m here. I want us to have time together. Fuck knows, we’ll need it to work through the shit both of us bring to the table.” He shifts to face me. The importance of his words is clear in his actions.

  “Besides, what if he found where you worked? It would kill me if anything happened to you and I wasn’t there. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but moving away from him hasn’t made the asshole go away. He’ll still be looking for you. He still wants you under his thumb. The guy won’t quit.”

  A shiver snakes it way down my spine. He’s voiced my greatest fear. Dylan will keep looking for me. He isn’t the kind to quit.

  “Apparently I have a bunch of gang members watching me,” I say wryly.

  He gives me a humored smile. “They won’t step in to help you if it’s not their business.”