Dirty Deeds

by Lauren Landish

  “Yeah, we’ll see if we can get a pencil and some paper because we need to know who the hitman is so we can figure out who hired him,” Shane says, sighing. “I can’t believe we’re talking about your sketching a hitman.”

  “But why can’t we go to the police? They could help us,” I ask, almost pleading with him, and Shane laughs harshly. “What? That’s their job!”

  Shane looks at me with pity in his eyes and smiles bitterly. “Both families have the police in their pockets. The only way to be a cop above Desk Sergeant in East Robinsville is to be friendly with one family or the other. If we go to the cops, we’ll likely never be seen again because they’ll turn us over to whoever wants us the most.”

  “As in?” I ask, fearing the answer even before Shane says it.

  “Meaning whoever’s willing to pay more for our silence. Knowing some of the cops in this town, they’d do the job for the families and might even try to collect from both of them if there’s money in it.”

  Hating that answer and needing more, I run through the whole evening again in my head, something wiggling at me, but it’s not until I see the blood spatter on Allie’s favorite costume that I realize what it is.

  “Hey! What about the cameras? The security? How’d the hitman even get inside without being seen? He should be on cameras all over the place. There should be all sorts of images of him, not just my memory.”

  Shane nods but gets up to pace the carpet. “Yeah, but that’s only helpful if it’s Sal’s guys fucking with Dominick. If Dominick did this, he’d erase the recordings. All it takes is a single button push on his system. That’d leave him just one last loose end to clean up.”

  Shane gives me a pointed look, and I realize he’s telling me that if Dominick is behind this, he’ll want me killed. If Sal did it, Dominick won’t hurt me, but Sal probably will. I’m messed up either way. “So, where does that leave us? You’re Dominick’s guy.”

  I leave the question as to whether he’ll hurt me unasked, but he knows that’s what I need to know. Shane walks to the curtained window and glances out before turning to me, looking at me from across the room with intense eyes that burn with . . . something.

  “It’s more complicated than that, but I swear to you, Meghan, I would never, ever hurt you. I work at Petals for Dominick, but I’m not in the mob, not one of his guys. I promise with my very last breath to keep you safe.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?” I ask, my heart pounding as the intensity of Shane’s words hit me. In another light, another situation, they’d be the most romantic thing a man has ever said to me. I feel the sting of tears in the corners of my eyes, but refuse to let them loose, even though this is all so overwhelming.

  Shane doesn’t have the magic answer I was hoping for, instead being a bit vague. “We’ll figure it all out.”

  For a moment, I think about telling him that it’s even more complicated than he realizes because I’m not just a cocktail waitress at Petals, but an undercover reporter using the job to get stories for a celebrity tabloid. Part of me wants to tell him everything, because deep down inside, I feel this almost instinctual need to be totally honest with him.

  We’ve danced around each other for two months to the point that earlier tonight ,we nearly kissed, despite knowing the rules. We both know that we want the other, and that the only reason he’d gotten me so angry at him earlier tonight is that he’s under my skin.

  But that seems minor in comparison to mob hits, and honestly, I don’t think telling Shane that I’ve been lying to him is going to ingratiate me to him.

  And I need him right now, to stay safe, to stay alive.

  So I let the truth die on my lips, keeping that secret.

  For now. I only pray that before this is all over, there’s a chance that I can tell him the truth. Because just once, I’d like to hear him call me Maggie instead of Meghan.

  Chapter 12

  Shane

  For a moment, Meghan looks like she’s got something to say, maybe something important that dances on the tip of her tongue, but with a sigh, she deflates, biting the words back, and I’m curious what she was going to tell me.

  Maybe something about the shooter? Big guy, cauliflower ear. I can think of a few suspects, but I’d need more to be sure since the ear doesn’t ring a bell at the moment.

  Still, the look on Meghan’s face. I have to know what she’s thinking. Unable to stop myself, I cross the room, crouching in front of her and tilting her chin up, forcing her to look me in the eye.

  “You’re safe. We’re okay right now.”

  She bites her lip, and I can see the sheen of fear in her eyes. Tears form on her lower eyelids, and I pull her to me, hugging her close. She lays her head on my shoulder as I rub up and down her back.

  I hear her sobbing gently, her sniffles breaking my cold heart wide open. “I . . . I never . . .”

  Nothing should make something as sweet as her cry. Ever. I lean down, bringing my lips close to one perfect shell-pink curve of an ear, and breathe deeply of her scent, which is undercut with the acrid stench of fear that still can’t overwhelm how beautiful she is. “Shh, let it out. I’ve got you.”

  She quakes a few more times, burying her face in my chest as she clutches at me for a moment before taking a steadying breath, but even that sounds a bit shaky. She might have pulled herself together by sheer will, sealing over the cracks in her worldview with Scotch tape, but she’s still fragile, and that tugs at every heart string I have.

  As she pushes back from me, a watery smile on her face, she’s trying so hard to be brave. “I’m not sure why I’m even crying. It’s just a lot to take in, you know? Guess I’m a bit overwhelmed. And mad! I’m mad I didn’t see what was going on when it was right there in front of my face. I feel stupid, and I’m definitely not. I was just focused on the wrong things and didn’t see the forest for the trees.”

  Her voice is stronger by the end of her rant, her fire making me reevaluate just how fragile she is. I think she’s made of stronger stuff than I gave her credit for, and the momentary breakdown was the anomaly, not her usual default when things get tough. It’s an odd reassurance that her sweetness is tempered with some iron, like pretty cotton candy on a steel core.

  I lay a light kiss to her forehead, comforting her, but the touch of her skin to my lips is like fire in my veins and blood rushes to my cock. “Meghan.”

  The heat in my voice is evident, and she looks up at me, her eyes flickering too. “Yes.”

  I don’t need another word as I drop to my knees on the carpet, and Meghan spreads her legs as wide as her skirt will go, letting me between her thighs. I press the growing bulge in my jeans against the side of the bed, looking for any relief as I get closer to her while trying my damndest to be respectful. She just saw a shooting, had a breakdown . . . the last thing she needs is my intensity. I force myself to sit back, making my jeans tighter to the point that my cock and balls are painful, but I take a deep breath, regaining a modicum of my unraveling control. “I think Dominick does a good job of hiding the truth from those he doesn’t want to see it. He’s cultivated an image of being a high-class businessman, and only those who need to know the truth do. Hell, some of the guys in his organization probably don’t even realize he’s The Boss at the very top. That’s the way he likes it. Low-key and calculated. But Meghan, I’m not lying when I call you an angel. You have no place in this mess, and I’m sorry you got caught up in it.”

  I didn’t realize it, but I’ve been rubbing small circles on her thighs with my thumbs, soft and gentle but getting higher and higher.

  Her breath hitches, and I can smell her arousal, like vanilla and sugar, as her muscles contract beneath my fingertips. She leans back, her shoulders thumping lightly against the wall as she bites her lip, looking down at me. “Shane?”

  I force my hands to stop moving, instead grabbing hold of her thighs and squeezing her flesh with a tight grip. “Yes, Angel?”

  “What are you doing
to me?”

  I clear my throat, but my voice still feels gravelly, rich with lust and need as I look up at her. “What I want to do is run my hands up higher, take your panties down, and bury my tongue so deep in your pussy that you scream my name the way I’ve been dreaming for weeks.”

  She lets out a mewl, her hips fighting against my hold to lift toward me. “Oh, God. I’ve wanted that too.”

  I squeeze one last time, forcing myself to let go as I roll back, my cock screaming in pain as my jeans nearly become a goddamn tourniquet. “But you already said you’re overwhelmed. I will never take advantage of you. That’s not how I do things. You’re not ready for this, for me. Not now.”

  With all my willpower, I get to my knees and push to stand up, pressing a palm against my throbbing cock, hoping the attention will relieve the pressure, but it just makes me want to arch against my hand.

  Meghan’s mouth opens when she sees the bulge in my jeans and a little squeak sounds out from her throat. “You’re . . . big.”

  I force myself to stay still, not giving in to the urge to release the pressure of my zipper and show her exactly how big I am, but my cock jumps anyway, desperately wanting to be closer to her mouth as she sits forward, just inches away from my crotch. She watches me, the tip of her tongue coming out to trace one plump lip, and I have to turn away. “Fuck, Angel. Don’t look at me like that, all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. All I can think of right now is how much I want to slide my cock past those full, pink lips and into your hot mouth. I wonder if you could swallow me to the hilt?”

  I tilt my head, watching her throat work as she swallows. “I wonder that too.”

  Her voice is breathy, a sex siren so damn close to making me crash on her shores.

  I rub my cock through the denim once more before balling my hands at my sides, wrangling control back of my lust-addled body before I need to punch myself in the thighs. “I need—”

  Meghan interrupts, her voice soft as she looks up at me. “Yes.”

  I smirk, wishing I could finish that sentence the way I want but knowing that I’m right, and fucking Meghan right now will only make her regret it more later.

  A deep part of me says to do it anyway, fuck her and take what I want while she’s willing to give it. But I’m not an animal, and if I’m going to be between her thighs, I don’t want her to hate me for it tomorrow.

  She’ll hate me enough from all this mess. I don’t need to add to my karmic bad shit list, so I hedge, turning away and squeezing my eyes shut. “I need you to take a shower, get cleaned up while I make some calls to see what the word on the street is. Then we’ll sleep for a few hours. I want to be back on the road by sunset. This place . . . it won’t be safe for more than twenty-four hours.”

  My words don’t register for a split second, but when they do, her mouth closes hard enough that I hear her lips smack together, and I glance back to see her blushing, looking down and embarrassed by my denial. “Shane, this is maddening. One minute, you make me feel like the sexiest woman in the world and then you turn—”

  I lift her chin again, meeting her blue eyes. “Angel, don’t do that. Never, ever doubt yourself. Fuck knows, I want you, but I’m trying real fucking hard to be a good guy here and keep my promise. You . . . you deserve a good man. Not me.”

  She stands to study my face, her body so close to mine that my cock is straining for her. Her eyes soften, then sparkle, and I can see the sass in them before she even speaks. “Fine. I’m getting in the shower. But Shane?” She pauses dramatically, lifting to her tip toes and leaning toward me. “Nobody asked you to be a good man. And I happen to have some fantasies involving you . . . and a shower.”

  With that parting shot, she bites at my jawline, the stinging flash of her tiny teeth on me making my blood boil. She turns to swish to the bathroom, but I reach out, smacking her ass through the denim miniskirt.

  The pop is loud in the silent room, but her cry is one of pleasure, not of pain. She glares at me over her shoulder, but I can see the spark of interest in her eyes and make a mental note of that. Oh, Angel. You do have a little devil inside you, and those wings might not be the purest white either. Fuck me, but it makes you even sexier.

  But as the bathroom door shuts behind her, I know I can’t go there with her, no matter how much we keep crashing into each other. The whisper of the shower through the door is pure torture, but with this sword of Damocles hanging over our heads on a single silken thread, I can’t let myself get any more distracted by the pleasures that she offers me or the ones I could readily give to her. I can’t, because I have to keep her safe. I have to get us both out of this mess. That’s all this can be, or we’ll both end up dead.

  The fact is, even at my best, I might still end up getting us both killed, but I have to try. And I need a clear head for this. The dire thought is enough to calm my raging desires and let my brain focus on the tasks ahead. Taking a moment to at least undo my zipper and let my cock have a little bit of relief , I dig in my duffle to pull out a burner phone.

  I dial Chucky, a guy who’s more a tool than a friend, but someone good to have on your side. He’s gotten in trouble a few times with the law and walks in that gray area where what he does can be legal or illegal simply based on whose computers he’s doing it to and who he’s working for. The line connects, but it’s silent, as always, because he waits for you to speak. “Chucky, it’s Shane. Ran into some issues at work.”

  His voice, high-pitched and wheezy, comes through the line like it always does. “Shane. Good to hear from you, man. Heard there was some carnage.”

  Chucky speaks like everything is a video game come to life, and I doubt he’s ever seen actual carnage or he wouldn’t throw that word around so carelessly.

  “What have you heard?” I ask, not only for curiosity’s sake but to know how fast and far the word’s getting out. I can judge the heat on me and the severity from that.

  “Heard a legacy man went down on enemy soil,” Chucky replies. “That true?”

  I consider how much to tell him, but I need his help, and getting information comes at a price, usually telling or confirming information. And this isn’t too bad. Chucky can’t use it to hamstring me. “True. Professional hit on Dominick’s turf. Carlos Rivaldi.”

  Chucky whistles low and long, knowing that there’s always a ticking time bomb between the Rivaldi and Angeline families, just waiting on the spark of ignition, which this could be. “That is a problem, isn’t it, Shane? You do it?”

  “No,” I growl, wanting him to understand this one hundred percent. “Did you forget who the fuck I am? I had nothing to do with it. Hitman came in and out clean, and we were all chasing our tails to catch him, deal with Carlos, and get the girls out.”

  “Girls? What girls?” Chucky asks, and I can hear the excitement in his voice.

  Shit. He didn’t know about the girls yet. “Girl was in the room when the show went down, uninjured. Another was in the hallway, also uninjured. Come on, man, it’s Dom’s club. What did you expect?”

  “Hmm, either girl see the hitman?”

  Trying to appeal to his nature, I use his vocabulary. “Maybe. That’s why I’m calling, Chucky. I got an innocent that needs protection, needs to disappear for a while, maybe long-term respawn.”

  Chucky laughs in my ear, not harshly but he’s not buying it yet. “Good one, but don’t bother, Shane. Just tell me.”

  I try again, knowing I don’t have a lot of time. “Look, Dominick’s keeping the dancer safe. She’s his. But this other girl, she’s mine. Not like that, but I promised her I’d keep her safe. Also, right now, other than the camera, she’s the primary witness who can identify the hitman and help figure out who’s behind the whole thing. I need you to see what you can find out. Let me know how much shit we’re in here and if we should be hiding from Dominick or Sal or both of them. I don’t fucking know.”

  Chucky huffs, sarcasm dripping from each wheezy exhalation. “Oh, sure, just all that. No problem. Wo
uld you like for me to get into the IRS D-base while I’m at it?”

  “Please, Chucky,” I beg, wondering how much more horse trading this guy’s going to need. For Meghan, I’d be willing to bargain away every chip I’ve got, and maybe promise a few more down the line. “This is important.”

  Thankfully, Chucky lets me off the hook, humming for a second as I hear his keyboard clacking away in the background.

  “All right, Shane,” Chucky says finally. “I’ll see what I can find out. But this is a big ask and a big owe. I won’t forget.”

  I nod, even though he can’t see me, relieved that he’s not going into details. “I know, Chucky. Thanks.”

  Chapter 13

  Maggie

  When I come out of the shower, Shane is lying back on the bed with his eyes closed. For a moment, I let my eyes trace over him, noting the flops of dark hair he’s obviously been running his fingers through, his long lashes, the soft part of his full lips, and his strong jawline. Before I can continue my perusal any lower, his eyes pop open and he catches me leering at him like a creeper. Without a word, he stands and disappears into the bathroom to clean up, giving me time to change clothes. My body’s exhausted after all the stress of the night, the fear, and then having a couple of heaping doses of arousal thrown in there with it.

  Still, slipping into my after work tank top and some fresh panties helps me regain some sense of normality, and despite my earlier worries, the sheets on the bed are fresh and smell like fabric softener. I promise myself that I’m going to stay awake for Shane, but I’m just so worn out, my eyelids are drooping almost immediately, and the darkness seems so inviting and unavoidable after everything that’s happened.