by M. Never
I pull out my phone and deliberate for a split second before I type away.
Me: Tell me a secret …
Moments tick by, too many for my liking before she responds.
Tara: I wish you would stay.
Those five words are all it takes to seal my fate and solidify my decision. I’m not ready to leave, yet. I’m not ready to leave Tara yet.
I shoot up from my seat and bang on the cockpit door. No, not protocol at all; we have a two-way intercom if we need to communicate, but who is thinking about things like that at a time like this?
“Sid! Cut the engine!” I pound on the door.
Several seconds later, an irritated Sid appears in front of me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, son? I was about to taxi out!” he snaps at me. I love Sid. He’s no-nonsense and tells you exactly how it is whether you want to hear it or not.
“I need to get off the plane. Open the door.”
“Did you hit your head or something? We have a flight plan. I have a family to get back to.”
No, it’s not typical for a pilot to talk back to his passenger, but this is a special circumstance since I’m the one usually flying the plane. I knew this weekend was probably going to take a toll, so I employed Sid to fly me to and from New York. There was no way I was going to want to fly thirteen hours home after spending close to thirty-six hours with Tara.
“Then go home. I can fly back commercial.”
He looks at me dumbfounded before his expression changes to understanding. A perverted understanding.
“You’re fucking pussy whipped.”
“Look who’s talking. You’re about to explode in your pants if you don’t get home to your wife.”
“Damn straight, son. Have you met my wife?”
Yes, she’s drop-dead gorgeous and half your age.
I huff. I’m not interested in arguing with Sid.
“Call me whatever you want, just open the fucking door already.”
Arrogantly, Sid slips back into the cockpit to hit the door release. As soon as I hear it click, I open the hatch.
“Hey!” He grabs my shoulder before I bolt out.
“I never said there was anything wrong with being pussy whipped, especially if that’s the pussy.” He nods toward the door, and I catch Tara climbing out of the limo.
I grab his wrist amicably. “Buddy, you have no idea how right you are.” Then I vacate the plane, heading straight for Tara. My heart feels like it’s about to burst in my chest as I rush to her, pulling her right off the ground into my arms.
“Does this mean you’re staying?” she asks as the cold December air bites the shell of my ears and both my cheeks.
“My schedule just opened up.” I plant her back down and then attack her mouth, kissing her so forcibly our teeth clink.
“Hey, chucklehead!” Sid’s baritone voice cuts through our reunion. “You forgot your shit!”
He tosses my duffle bag out of the plane onto the tarmac. “Have fun, you two,” he shouts right before he disappears.
Tara’s questioning look says it all.
“Don’t ask. I’ll tell you all about him on the way back to the city.” I jog over to grab my bag then slide into the warm limo next to Tara. I draw her to me and return my lips to their rightful place—her collarbone … and her neck and her mouth, and maybe even her pussy before this ride is over.
Whipped is definitely the right word to describe me.
What the fuck have I done?
I HUM TO MYSELF AS I clear the coffee cups from one of my tables. Watching CJ get off that plane, and then spending another blissful night with him has sent my spirits soaring. Don’t ask me to define it, or us, I should say, but whatever it is we have, I like it. It’s electric, incomparable to anything else. Just spending time with him is enough, no labels required.
“Someone is chipper,” Philly teases me as I pick up an order.
“Shut up.” I ignore him, still humming.
He watches me amused. “You remind me of Sleeping Beauty after she meets the handsome prince in the forest.”
I laugh to myself, recalling the joke I made about being pricked with his penis. “Maybe I sort of feel like Sleeping Beauty after she meets the handsome prince.”
“I take it your weekend with the hottie from Hawaii went well?”
I beam as I lift the tray. “He’s still here.”
Philly’s face drops. “I thought it was just a weekend fling?”
“Well, it got extended.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea to keep seeing him? With everything going on?” He actually sounds like my father right now. He’s killing my buzz.
“Nothing is going on,” I say defensively. “I like CJ, and I can handle it.”
Philly puts his hand up in surrender. “Easy, blondie. I’m not the enemy here. I’m just your best friend trying to look out for you.”
“I appreciate that, Philly. I don’t love anyone more than you. But I’m a big girl, and I can make my own decisions.”
“You’ve told me,” he says perturbed.
I scoff. “I have to drop these before they get cold.”
“Good idea.” He steps back and rings up a customer.
My wonderful mood has just flown right out the window. Thanks, Philly.
“I’m taking five,” I inform Philly as I toss my tray on the server’s station.
He waves in acknowledgment.
I bum a cigarette from one of the dishwashers in the kitchen before I head outside. I don’t usually smoke, but every once in a while it helps with the stress.
I push through the back doors and step out into the alley. It’s a narrow strip of concrete sandwiched between two brick buildings that smells like garbage. The stench probably wouldn’t be so bad if the dumpster weren’t right next to the freakin’ door.
I light the cigarette, close my eyes, and let the smoke fill my lungs. It instantly relaxes me. I inhale another drag letting the nicotine work its magic. It’s twenty degrees out, I have no coat on, and I don’t even care that I’m starting to shiver. I’m too caught up in the moment, reveling in the few seconds I’m alone with my smoke.
“You know those things will kill you?” A figure appears out of the darkness. I immediately stiffen, trying as hard as I can not to show my trepidation.
“Nino.” I exhale, blowing smoke right in his face. He sneers waving a hand in front of him.
“Cute. Where have you been hiding?”
“I’m not hiding. I’m right here.”
He leers at me. “You’re right here … now.”
“Isn’t that what matters? The here and now?” I dance around his interrogation.
“No.” I see the change in his temperament instantly. He goes from tolerant to irate within a second.
“Tara?” Nino grabs my face and pins me against the brick wall. “Where the fuck were you?”
“Nowhere. Around.” I struggle against him.
“Bullshit. You weren’t answering your phone and you weren’t at your apartment. Where the fuck have you been?” He squeezes my cheeks harder.
“I don’t need to run my life by you! You don’t own me!” My words are muffled, but there’s no mistaking the fire behind them.
Nino flashes a sadistic smile. Even in the faint light of the alleyway, I can still make out his features. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, styled hair, and mouth of the devil himself. I used to think that mouth was sexy. I used to wish it would touch mine, devour it. Now, I regret ever getting close to it. It’s caused nothing but chaos.
“You are so wrong.” His voice vibrates with menace. “You’re my girl, Tara. I own that face and that ass and that pussy. Never forget that. I. Own. You. Until I decide otherwise.” He releases my cheeks roughly but keeps me pinned to the wall. “And if you ever disappear on me like that again, I’ll find you.” His threat chills me straight to the bone. “Got it, Tara?”
I loathe the way he says my name. Like he really does own me.
I fight back the angry tears, completely silent.
“Tara?” He demands an answer.
“Yes,” I bite out, resisting the urge to spit on him.
“Good.” He hisses like the snake he is. “Remember, I know everything about you. Where your mother works, the bar your father hangs out at, even all about Ellie and her brand new husband. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to them because of you, would you?”
“You wouldn’t hurt them!” I erupt.
“If you force me to, I would,” he threatens.
I clench my jaw and battle back the tears.
“Don’t fuck with me, Tara. When I text you, you answer. Got it?”
I nod. The cigarette still smoking in my hand.
“Good.” He ogles me triumphantly. I begin to crumble at the thought of anyone I love being hurt because of me.
The door to the back room suddenly swings open while Nino still has me pinned against the wall. We both turn our heads to find Philly glaring at us.
“If you are going to hook up, can you at least wait until after your shift? We’re getting slammed in there.” He directs all his hostility at me, which hurts more than anything.
“Mmm …” Nino moans in my ear. “I love the idea of hooking up.” He slides his hand under my shirt and grabs my breast. Disgusted, I stab my cigarette into his neck, and he jerks back.
“Feisty tonight.” He snaps his jaw at me like a dog. “I like that.” He places his hand over the burn. “See ya around, sweetheart.” I inwardly cringe as he walks away.
I inhale a few quick, choppy breaths before I return inside, slipping by a glaring Philly without a word. I have gone from feeling light and airy to as heavy as a weathered stone. I feel the heat of Philly’s body radiating behind me, but he doesn’t say a word as we walk back into the busy café. Neither do I. Nothing needs to be said. I just pick up my tray and work the rest of the night as if nothing happened, counting down the minutes until I’m with CJ again.
I TEXT JETT TO LET him know I am staying.
Me: extending
Jett: no surprise
No surprise?
Arrogant prick thinks he can see through everyone.
I snicker to myself.
Arrogant prick can.
There’s a knock on my hotel room door. The room I previously had was already booked so they had to change me to a different suite. A bigger, nicer, and way more expensive suite. That’s what my dumbass gets for not thinking things through—or way overthinking things. I’m not exactly sure which got me into this situation—with the room and with Tara—but I’m here now and I’m going to ride it out.
“It’s open! Come in!” I yell from the very large living room. The panoramic windows in front of me have half of Manhattan on a showy display. “You’re a trusting man.” Slade walks in dressed casually in jeans, a thick sweatshirt, and black baseball cap pulled low.
“I knew it was you.” I put my phone down on the sleek, smoky coffee table. I like the luxury, but I don’t need it.
“Did my knock give me away?” He plops down on the maroon leather sofa. The shit’s so comfortable you could live on it.
“No, your cryptic text ‘Leave the door open’ is what gave you away.”
“That was pretty cryptic,” he says slickly as he makes himself at home, crossing his ankle over his knee.
“Are you tracking my cell phone or something?” I ask. “You seem to know where I am at all times.”
“You know I can’t share trade secrets.”
“I know better than anyone. Just don’t keep too close tabs. My bosses won’t like it.”
“Noted.” He nods, but he’s not intimidated one bit. Slade doesn’t care about my bosses. He doesn’t care about anyone really. He’s a Lone Ranger. Always has been. Even when we were serving, he was a rebel. Only fell in line because he was forced, not because he wanted to. But as much of a reckloose as he is, there is no one else I would want fighting by my side. He’s smart, he’s cunning, and he has a bit of a bloodthirsty edge. In battle, that is an invaluable attribute. Especially when your helicopter goes down in the middle of the desert. He pulled me from the burning debris while I was unconscious. Dragged me two and a half miles in the blistering sun to a nearby Afghani town and kept me safe until a convoy arrived to scoop us up. I don’t remember much, but there were a series of moments when I was in and out of consciousness. When Slade had his gun drawn ready to kill anyone who came near us. Luckily, he was able to find us a hiding place with the help of some sympathetic locals.
A bond develops when you go through something like that. I owe him my life, and I’ll be indebted to him forever, even if he doesn’t see it that way. Even if he just thinks he was doing his job, he’s the reason I’m sitting here. He’s the reason I have a career I love and am able to indulge in a woman unparalleled to any other.
“So, now that your business trip has been extended, will I see you tomorrow night?” He cuts to the chase.
“Is that what this visit is about?”
“Partly.” He smiles shrewdly under the brim of his hat. “Partly because it’s been a long time since I’ve been in the company of someone I actually like”
“Well, in that case …” I slap my knee and stand up to pour two drinks from the bar. “You get your drinking buddy for a few more days.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” I hear the uplift in his voice.
I hand him a hefty shot of scotch, and we clink glasses.
“Any break in your missing girl?”
“Nah, cold cases are a tougher nut to crack.”
“Same on this end. Nothing popped up through the channels.”
Slade exhales. “It was a long shot, but I’m not giving up just yet.”
“I didn’t say I was, either.”
“Good.” He takes a swig of the brown liquid. “And now that you are extending your stay in the big apple, I expect to see you tomorrow night,” he stipulates.
“Giving me orders now? Have you been promoted?”
“I don’t need to be promoted to tell you what to do. Your ass will be there.”
“Spade, I don’t know. I only have—”
“Save it, Carmichael.” He cuts me off. “You can come willingly or by force. Either way, you and your hot little piece of ass are going.”
“You’re really not giving me much of a choice, huh?”
“Do I ever?”
“No.” I laugh. Jerkoff.
“See, things are so much easier my way.” His dark eyes sharpen.
I shoot him a pessimistic look. “Jury is still out on that, brother.”
Slade drains the contents of his glass and then hints for another.
“Help yourself.” I motion to the bar.
Slade does just that, filling his textured, crystal rocks glass with a hefty pour.
He then falls back onto the couch and smiles faintly over the rim of the glass. “I look forward to meeting your ray of sunshine formally.”
Formally? I look at him unexpectedly enlightened.
“What?” he asks. “I don’t think I like that look.”
“Formally?” I repeat scratching my chin, contemplating. Seriously, deviously, contemplating. “I think you’re going to more than look forward to it. I think you’re going to love it.”
I SMOOTH THE SILK OF the formal black dress in the mirror. It was waiting for me when I got to CJ’s this afternoon. Along with a pair of rhinestone stilettos and diamond drop earrings. Another ensemble courtesy of Jett. The man has some seriously good taste. It’s as if this dress was fitted specifically for me. It hugs every curve perfectly with a plunging neckline encrusted with crystals and a provocative slit up one side. I don’t know where we’re going, but dressed like this, I honestly don’t care. I feel like a princess, and I’m going to take advantage of every step in my five-inch designer heels.
“Whoa.” CJ stops dead in his tracks when he walks into the bedroom.
“You like?” I do a little sp
in, showing off the whole package. I pinned one side of my hair up to show off the earrings and applied some smoky purple eye shadow to accent my eyes.
“I …” He’s left speechless as he slides his hands around my waist. “I really fucking like.” He kisses my neck, causing goose bumps to erupt all over my skin.
“Good.” I smile as his lips tickle me.
“I can’t wait to show you off.”
“Show me off where exactly?” I probe.
CJ wags a finger at me. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now, let’s go before that dress ends up in a crinkled ball on the floor.” He grabs his tuxedo jacket off the bed and slips it on. I’ve seen CJ dressed formally before, and I can tell you it never gets old. A man in a well-tailored suit is like an aphrodisiac.
He’s right, we had better go, or my clothes aren’t going to be the only ones crinkled up in a ball.
Still in the dark about where we’re heading, I try to weasel out any information I can in the car. CJ doesn’t budge. He’s like a brick wall. I guess I didn’t have a prayer trying to crack an ex-special ops soldier. He’s no doubt trained in anti-interrogation tactics. As we drive, I notice we are heading straight into the heart of the Meatpacking district. This only makes my curiosity grow. Dressed like this, I was expecting to end up on the Upper East Side.
The car pulls into an underground garage and then parks. When we get out, CJ escorts me to a nearby elevator. The parking garage is completely deserted. There isn’t another vehicle or human being in sight. I’ll admit my imagination is now working overtime. We step into the elevator, and CJ pushes the number twenty-seven. As the elevator whisks us upwards, my anticipation grows. Where are we going? A gala? An elite private dinner? An auction maybe? I want to know so bad I could bust. When the elevator dings and the doors open, we are met with a loud rumble of a well-dressed crowd, bright lights, and vibrant atmosphere. CJ hands his invitation to a very large, intimidating black man who is guarding the elevator door. He takes the white card and scans it under a black light. It lights up with invisible letters. The man nods and then steps aside so CJ and I can enter the room. I am completely bewildered by now as CJ leads me through the bustling space to a set of doors. He throws an excited smile back at me, right before he opens them. As soon as they swing on their hinges, I hear the distinct sound of a bell. My jaw drops as we enter the room. In the dead center, surrounded by elegantly set tables, is a boxing ring. It’s a vast contradiction to what I know. There are two men throwing punches as a moderate crowd looks on. I stare up at CJ, completely confounded. He just grins, his playful brown eyes glittering in the spotlight.
