by Sophia Gray
Adamo hesitated for a moment. “Shouldn't she come with me? Don Ricci will want to make sure she's protected.”
“She will be, I promise. But you were just seen inside the restaurant, and if the cops decide to round you up for questioning, she shouldn't be with you. No one in town knows me, so I can keep her off the grid for a few hours until the heat dies down. Now go! We don't have time to debate this.”
Adamo nodded and ran off.
“Come on, let's get you someplace safe so you can relax,” Gabe said, offering her a hand. She took it and he lifted her to her feet. They hurried off down a side alley with Rodolfo loping along behind them.
“You saved my life,” said Maggie, her voice quivering. “I can't believe it. You saved my life.”
“Aw, it's just what any guy would have done. No big deal. Are you sure you're okay? You must be real shaken up.”
“I'll be all right,” she breathed. “I just have a bad taste in my mouth, that's all.”
“Like copper, right?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“That's the adrenaline,” he replied, smiling. “It happens to everyone. Luckily, I know just the thing to help with that.”
Chapter 10
Maggie
Thirty minutes later, Maggie was sitting at a small table in Gabe's hotel room, eagerly wolfing down a shrimp sandwich and fries from Johnny's Po-Boys. Gabe watched her, amused. Rodolfo stood in the corner with his hands folded in front of his belly.
“It looks like you haven't had any real food to eat in a year,” Gabe commented wryly.
“Try fifteen years,” Maggie replied, moaning with delight between huge bites. “My mother's been slapping my hand away from food since I was about six years old. She said I had to lose my baby fat. Wow, this stuff is so good.”
“Well, your mother ain't here, so go nuts. Don't forget your milkshake.”
Maggie immediately snatched the milkshake and put her lips around the straw, drinking over half of it at once. Then she put it down, her hand going to her forehead as she frowned.
“Ow. Ow! Gosh, it feels like someone just shoved an ice pick into my head! What is that?”
“It's just a brain freeze,” Gabe said. “It happens when you gulp down ice cream too quickly. It'll go away in a second or two. Jesus, you weren't kidding, were you? Your parents really never let you eat stuff like this? Ever?”
Maggie shook her head, returning to her sandwich. “They want me skinny. Easier to marry me off that way.”
Gabe's cell phone rang, and he answered it. “Yeah?”
Maggie could hear her father's voice. She'd never heard him speak so loudly before, or sound so worried. “Gabe! Adamo just told me what happened. Is Maggie okay?”
“Maggie is perfectly fine, Turo,” Gabe replied smoothly. “I've got her; she's completely safe. I know how shaken up you must be.”
“Those biker animals! I can't believe they would attack my daughter. By God, I'll make them pay. I'll hunt down every last one of them, and—”
“I doubt you'll have to worry about them anymore, at least for a good long while,” Gabe said. “We've butted heads with our share of these motorcycle types up in Toronto, so I know how they tend to operate. I took out their president, and a few of their other guys, too. They'll need time to regroup, elect a new prez, and take on some new members before they'll be in any position to show their faces around here again. They're like wolves. When they're rolling with a pack, they're big and scary, but smack their leader in the nose hard enough and they'll run off with their tails between their legs.”
Maggie realized she'd stopped chewing—she was staring at Gabe, taking in his every word. The more time she spent with him, the more fascinating he seemed. First, he'd defended her against the bikers so fearlessly that they may as well have been lobbing tomatoes at him instead of shotgun blasts. Then he fed her and took care of her, so she wouldn't be so scared. And now he was talking to her father calmly and confidently, as though they were equals. She'd never heard anyone do that before. When it came to Turo, most men were frightened, or at least subservient.
Gabe saw that she was looking at him and flashed her a reassuring smile as her father spoke again.
“My contacts in the police department went to investigate the scene. They didn't find any dead bikers. Are you positively certain you killed them?”
“Oh, definitely,” Gabe said. “Like I said, I've dealt with these types before. They're a lot more sentimental than you think. We saw them pick up the dead bodies and load them into their van before they ran off...probably so they could give them a proper burial, pour whiskey out over their graves, all that shit. But believe me, they're out of your hair for the foreseeable future.”
“Thank you, Gabe. For what you've done for me and my family tonight, I promise you will have my everlasting gratitude. Where are you now? I'll send my men to come and retrieve Margherita.”
“I'll tell you what,” Gabe said, looking at his watch. “Have your guys meet us at the corner of Basin and Iberville in one hour.”
“I will. And, again, thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” Gabe said, ending the call.
“Why an hour?” Maggie asked. “That corner is right outside.”
“Well, based on everything you've told me about your old man so far, I figured you could use a little break before having to deal with him again,” Gabe explained with a grin.
In that moment, Maggie felt her fascination with Gabe give way to utter infatuation. She'd been prepared to write him off as no different from the other men her father had set her up with, but he'd surprised her at every turn. How did he understand her needs and emotions so well? How could someone in the same line of work as her father be so generous, thoughtful, and compassionate?
As Maggie picked up her sandwich again, she realized her hands were shaking. Gabe saw them, too.
“I must still be a little keyed-up,” she admitted.
“That's totally natural after what you've been through,” Gabe said. He turned to Rodolfo. “Hey, there's a diner across the street. Sit outside, grab a cup of coffee, and shoot me a text when her people show up, okay?”
Rodolfo raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side, looking at Gabe quizzically.
“Go on, it'll be fine,” Gabe insisted.
Rodolfo sighed, shook his head, and lumbered out of the room, closing the door behind him. Maggie heard his short, heavy steps going down the hall.
“I figure it'll be easier for you to relax without him standing in the corner,” Gabe said. “Here, let me see if I can help you loosen up a bit.”
Gabe stood behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders, kneading them. A moan escaped her lips before she even realized it was coming. His hands were so soft, yet his touch was firm and sure. He seemed to know exactly where and how she wanted to be caressed and massaged. She wondered what his hands would feel like on the rest of her body.
“Golly, that feels amazing,” Maggie said, closing her eyes and arching her neck.
“Yeah, I thought this might do the trick. Your shoulders are lovely. Very responsive.” His hand moved to the nape of her neck, squeezing it.
Maggie felt something quiver deep in her stomach in response to the sublime pressure of his fingers. She wanted him. She couldn't believe it—she'd never felt this way about a man so soon after meeting him. In fact, she couldn't remember ever feeling this way about a man at all. She'd had a few crushes in high school, and she'd lost her virginity during a casual fling when she was seventeen, before Turo and Amelia had started to act more like jailers than parents.
But this was so different. It was like someone had switched on a lamp deep inside of her, and she felt its light shining through every part of herself.
“And by the way, what's with all the 'gosh' and 'golly' stuff?” Gabe continued. “I don't think I've heard you swear once this whole evening, even when the bullets were flying.”
“My parents wouldn't
let me swear either,” she said. “They said no one would want to marry a trash-mouth.”
“Well, again, I don't see your mom and dad in here with us, and I certainly don't mind, so feel free to curse a blue streak. As a matter of fact, I want to hear you do it.”
Maggie opened her eyes and craned her neck, looking up at Gabe. She could feel herself blushing. “What do you want me to say?”
“I guess we should start with the basics, right? So say 'fuck.'”
Maggie parted her lips slowly, forming the word for the first time in her life. “Fuck.”
Gabe smiled, leaning in more closely. “Again.”
She took a breath and let it out along with the word, drawing it out. “Fffffffffffuck.”
He was even closer now, his breath tickling her skin tantalizingly. There was a naughty gleam in his eye, and his lips were inches from her ear. “Say it like you mean it.”
Maggie found herself lifting her face toward his, until their lips were almost touching. She could see that he wanted her, and she knew he could see it in her eyes, too. Just a simple push forward, that's all it would take for her mouth to be on his...
“Fuck,” she breathed, and in that moment, it was a wish, a prayer, an invitation.
His fingers gently traced a line down the side of her face, and a moment later they were kissing, their tongues exploring each other. She lifted her arms, wrapping them around his body and pulling him down to her. He lowered himself to his knees next to her chair, one hand on the back of her neck as the other slid down to her left breast. She felt her nipple harden as he reached down, pushing her dress and bra aside to expose it.
Gabe pulled his lips away from hers and began to kiss the side of her neck, working his way down to her chest. He took her nipple between his teeth tenderly, flicking his tongue against it until her breath came in sharp gasps. She put a hand on the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair.
“Do you like that?” he murmured. His breath was warm against her breast, and she felt herself getting wet.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I love it.”
“Let's see how much,” he teased, putting his other hand between her thighs. Her legs pulled together reflexively for a second—she still couldn't believe she was doing this with someone she'd only met a couple of hours ago—but she willed herself to relax, opening them for him. His fingertips tickled her delicate skin, tracing dizzying patterns all the way up to her panties. He pushed past the edge of her panties, stroking the lips of her pussy until she felt like she might faint from ecstasy.
“You're really soaking down there,” he said, taunting her. His finger pressed deeper, sliding inside of her. She bit her lip, whimpering softly and sliding down in her chair.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Margherita?” Gabe asked, looking up at her. His eyes were like the night sky, dark and deep and starry.
She nodded, breathing hard.
“Then say it.”
Maggie took a deep breath. She'd never said it in her life, but she'd never wanted anything so badly in her life, either. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Again.”
Her entire body felt like it was covered in goosebumps. “I want you to fuck me, Gabe. Please, I need it, please...”
His powerful arms were wrapped around her body before she knew it, lifting her out of the chair and lowering her to the floor on her back. His hands pushed her dress up, sliding her panties down her legs. She sat up and reached for his belt, undoing it and lowering the zipper below it. Her fingers disappeared into his pants, finding his warm, hard cock and releasing it. She loved the way it felt in her hands—throbbing with desire for her.
He pushed her down again and she surrendered, feeling the hard floor under her back. She spread her legs, her pussy exposed and waiting for him.
Gabe positioned himself over her, using one hand to brace himself and the other to cradle the back of her neck. He kissed her again, and then he was inside her, so fiercely and suddenly that she cried out. Her lack of experience had kept her tight, and she could feel every inch of him as he plunged into her, until it felt like it would tear her apart.
It hurt sharply, but Maggie held onto him even tighter. She couldn't bear the idea of him pulling out of her. She wanted him to open her up, to mold and reshape her until she fit him perfectly.
“Is this what you want, baby?” Gabe challenged, his eyes blazing into hers.
“Fuck me,” she hissed, digging her fingernails into his back. The words spilled from her mouth uncontrollably, until they sounded like they were coming from someone else. “Fuck me, fuck me, oh God, harder, please, harder, don't stop...”
Gabe thrust into her violently, the shaft of his cock rubbing against her clit as the tip prodded her cervix insistently. The pleasure and pain mingled into something thunderous and indescribable, and she felt the friction from the rug burning her back.
Over and over, he entered her and she met him stroke for stroke. Their moans overlapped, building to a furious crescendo, a divine symphony of lust.
“You feel so good,” Gabe purred into her ear. “I'm going to come.”
“Do it,” she begged. “I want to feel it.”
Gabe gushed inside her, filling her up. Seconds later, she climaxed with a loud cry, her pussy twitching and tightening around his cock as she wrapped her legs around him.
There were tears in her eyes, and the muscles in her body ached and spasmed—but she'd never felt happier.
Chapter 11
Brock
A few moments after Brock withdrew from Maggie and collapsed on the floor next to her, his cellphone blipped. He groaned, pulling himself up again. “Well, that was some perfect timing, huh?”
He checked the screen, and saw the text from Crack: “They're here.”
“Looks like we'd better pull ourselves together and head down there,” he said. Maggie nodded briskly, reaching for her panties and pulling them back on.
As Brock buckled his belt and zipped up his pants, he found himself trapped in the moment of crystalline clarity and reason that most men experienced in the ten or fifteen seconds immediately following an orgasm. He'd assured Robby he wouldn't fall back into his old habits and endanger the con by fucking this girl, so why had he?
He tried to tell himself it was no big deal—it was a familiar weakness of his, he'd indulged it many times before even when he shouldn't have, and most of the time, he'd managed to get away unscathed.
Well, maybe not “most of the time.” But at least half, right? Maybe even a little more?
Still, it irked him. He'd gone into this scam genuinely determined not to let his libido put him at risk. These weren't just clueless tourists or blustering businessmen they were targeting here—they were dangerous gangsters, and the punishment for blowing this score would be severe. So what made Maggie so disarming that he'd succumbed to his lust almost instantly?
For starters, he had to admit she was astonishingly beautiful. Her dark hair, her brown doe eyes, her swan-like neck and delicate frame. He'd expected her to be charmed and impressed by him during the date and the “rescue” from the Saints—that was part of the con, after all—but he hadn't expected to be so damn captivated by the sincerity and desire in her eyes when she looked at him.
Maggie smiled at him as she fixed her dress. “You're staring.”
“Sorry about that,” Brock said, returning her smile. “It's hard not to.”
“I, um, hope I wasn't too forward tonight. I mean, I never do this kind of thing, you know? Seriously, never. I don't know what came over me.”
“Adrenaline's a funny thing sometimes,” he reassured her. “No need to overthink it.”
“And earlier tonight, you said you were already distracted...”
“I guess you distracted me from my distraction,” he replied smoothly, giving her a quick kiss. The feeling of her soft lips against his was tantalizing, and he wanted to linger, but he forced himself to pull back instead. It was better to leav
e her wanting more. “Come on, let's go down there before they start to worry about us. Everyone's probably already on edge.”
As they left the room and headed for the elevator, she asked, “So what is going on with your father?”
“It's complicated,” Brock said, hitting the button for the lobby. “And I'm not really supposed to go around talking about it.”
“I'm not really 'supposed' to go jumping into bed with men I just met, either,” Maggie prodded with a grin.
“I don't remember a bed being involved, but you've got a point. Tell you what—I'll give you the whole story next time we see each other. Sound good?”
