My life could not be so ridiculous.
No way had I been interrupted during sexy times twice in one night. By two different men. No way.
"Sawyer Anderson?" Paine asked me as I struggled into my shirt.
"The one and only," I snapped, lowering my eyes at the hall.
"I'll be downstairs while you put your fun bits away. Elsie, babe, I promise I won't be thinking about what your fun bits look like," he commented as he moved down the hall and toward the stairs.
"How do people keep breaking in here?" I asked, enraged, as I turned to look at Paine.
"He's a PI who is a bit loose with the law, babygirl. Breaking and entering is nothing to him."
"Do you have any idea how much that alarm system cost me?" I asked, stalking over toward my bathroom and flicking on the light, trying to get my hair back into some semblance of order as Paine zipped up. "Do you like the guy?" I asked, coming back out into my bedroom.
"Not particularly."
"Want to kick his ass for me?" I asked with a small smile at the idea.
"Say the word and he'll have a nice bed right beside his brother," he said casually and, well, I actually believed him. And that was mildly terrifying.
"Alright, let's go get this over with," I said on a sigh as I made my way into the hall.
Paine was behind me as we rounded into my living room to find Sawyer standing there twirling my bra on his finger. "You'd think if you got started down here, there'd be more of a trail leading upstairs," he paused, cocky smile slipping a bit as he watched Paine walk in and settle behind my shoulder. "Should have known that was your Challenger down the block," he commented before turning his attention back toward me, jiggling my bra again. "This mean you're commando under there, babe?" he asked.
I lunged forward, grabbing the bra out of his hand and balling it up best I could in my fist. "What are you, fifteen? Oooh, she wears a bra. Grow up."
The snippy-ness was all bluster because, deep down, all I was feeling was mildly mortified. The bra under the couch... that wasn't so bad. Hell, women whip those things off the minute they walk in the door sometimes. It could just be there by happenstance. But, well, he had totally heard me going down on Paine. And while I was a mature, sexually confident person, that kind of thing was personal. No one was supposed to know about it unless I chose to tell them. Certainly no one was supposed to hear or, heaven forbid, see that. Even if someone did accidentally hear or see, they weren't supposed to comment on it. That was a whole new level of rude and disrespectful.
Paine's arm landed hard across my shoulders, trapping my hair, and pulling me against his side. "What do you got to talk to her about?" Paine asked, badassery practically wafting out of his pores. I tilted my head to look up at him, giving him a small smile that I hoped said 'thank you'.
"Got coffee?" Sawyer asked, jerking his head toward the kitchen.
I sighed slightly and nodded. Paine let me go after a small squeeze and they both followed me into the kitchen where Paine set to work making the coffee and I jumped up on the counter, staring the occasional dagger at Sawyer who leaned against the island looking casually comfortable and amused.
"Alright, we're not waiting for it to drip for you to start talking," I told Sawyer as Paine moved over toward me and stood beside my hip. I wondered if he was aware it was both predatory, like he was staking a claim, and also that he was forming a united front against the guy I kind of wanted to watch Paine put in his place a little. But not really. "I told you we were done. Barrett, and by extension you, are fired."
"Nice try, babe. But now I'm on a mission to make some mother fuckers pay for putting my brother in a hospital bed with a concussion, stitches, and busted ribs."
"Cory Wad," Paine interrupted, drawing both our attention. Paine looked at me. "You told me about the scar on his lip, baby. Only one Third Street guy got a cleft lip scar."
"Still can't believe you got my fucking brother wrapped up with those shitheads," Sawyer said, shaking his head at the ceiling.
"Yo," Paine broke in, drawing Sawyer's attention. "Ain't her fault he didn't get more information or backup before he dove in."
Sawyer sighed, nodding a little, knowing he was right. "Babe, you might not be paying me or him anymore, but I'm not off the case. And I'm pretty sure once Barrett has access to a computer again, he won't be either. It'd be easier if you could tell us what we are in for this time. Save us some time."
"Why would I want to make your life easier?" I asked with a smile and Paine snorted. "You do realize you've been nothing but an ass since you first talked to me."
"Not here to make friends, Elsie. I'm here to get a job done. You want answers to something, I'm the man. I won't apologize for not being Mr. Congeniality while I put my life on the line for you."
Well then. There was really no good way to rebut that, was there?
I looked at Paine who gave me a small shrug.
"Alright fine," I conceded. "My sister is missing."
"Elana," Sawyer declared.
"Yeah, Elana. She was acting weird for a while and then she wasn't answering. I went over, she was gone. My father told me she cashed in her trust fund. He and the cops think she's off on a beach somewhere."
"But you think not."
"She found a jewelry box with a good fifteen dime bags of smack with a Third Street tag on them."
"So you think she's somehow involved with them? Trust had to be in the millions, babe. Know who your father is. No way could your trusts be under five mil each. She can't spend that kind of money on heroin."
"We went over that," Paine said, resting a hand on my knee and squeezing.
"So you're thinking she's dead or wishing she was and her money is circulating in some banger's pockets." I felt myself visibly flinch at his bluntness and, to his credit, Sawyer looked repentant. "Sorry, babe, but we have to consider the worst-case scenarios. Best case, she's on a beach. Slightly less good, but not awful, she got conned. Third, she's in love with some shithead and handed over the money because she was too high to care."
"But if it was any of those not-awful scenarios, why would she just up and leave her life? Her pet? Her family? The money was hers; it's not like she stole anything."
"Dunno how much you know about addicts, babe," Sawyer said, moving over toward the coffee pot and helping himself to one of the mugs Paine had put out, "but they're selfish and entitled. That's what the drugs do to you. Nothing and no one matters but the next hit, the next high or not feeling sick when you're on the down slide. She's not your sister if she's heavy into heroin. She likely doesn't care about her house, her family, her friends, her pets. She cares about the drugs. That's it. Case closed. So if she thought that you or her father or her friends might stand in a way of her next high, she's gonna want nothing to do with any of you."
As harsh as that was, as hard to swallow, it was somehow almost comforting. Maybe it was just that easy. Maybe she was just so wrapped up in her drug-packed lifestyle that nothing else mattered. I could live with that. Addicts could be reformed. She could get help. She could move on from this, even if her trust was gone for good. There was still a way to have my sister back.
"But if someone is controlling her, babe, I don't think I got to tell you... that makes things complicated. Third Street can be wild and unpredictable. Especially if money is a factor. No disrespect," he said, jerking his chin toward Paine. "Know you used to run shit. Know your brother calls shots now, but it's a gang and they've been scrambling for a year trying to hold down a new supplier since your buddy put a plug in their last one's head."
My eyes went wide and focused on Paine. "He kidnapped his girl. Shooter is a sniper. He did what he had to do to get her safe."
"How... how does all this stuff happen right under my nose in this town and I don't know about it?"
True, we knew there was crime. Especially in the slums. We had The Henchmen MC who were definitely involved in some kind of illegal activi
ties. A couple years back, a bunch of buildings in town were bombed. Then some guy named Lex Keith was brutally murdered and it came to light that he was a serial rapist that the NBPD ignored because he paid them a pretty penny to do so. But it was a big town, we had a really diverse population. With a large number of people came an expected amount of crime. But Paine and Sawyer were discussing drugs, gangs, snipers, and murder like it was an every day occurrence.
"Baby, you know that Italian place you like?"
"Famiglia?" I asked, head tilting to the side.
"Mob," Paine said with a smile.
"What!" I exploded, slapping my hand down on the counter. "You can't be serious."
"Antony and his sons: Luca and Matteo."
"My father and I had drinks with Antony. I had a date once with Luca! He stood when I got to the table and opened car doors. And you're telling me he's a part of the Italian mob?"
"They run the docks."
"Oh my God," I groaned, covering my face with my hands.
"And, hey, you know that bar you and your friends go to..." Sawyer went on, sounding amused.
"No. Not Chaz's!"
"Charlie and his sons are loan sharks."
"Shane was my personal trainer when I first started going to his gym. Mark fixed my flat once!"
"Surrounded by bad guys who aren't so bad," Paine said with a small smile.
"Aw look at the moment you two are having. Good girl and former gang banger getting all big-eyed. How sweet."
"Do you get some kind of commission every time you're a complete asshole?" I snapped, rolling my eyes.
"Just saying," he said, putting his mug down and making his way toward the back door, "do you really see this going anywhere? You gonna bring home a former pimp and drug dealer to meet your daddy? Come on now. Have your fun, get your rocks off, but don't think there's anything more than that between you," he warned, the door slamming settling with a weird feeling in my chest.
I hadn't really stopped to analyze what had been going on with Paine. First, because it had been a really weird situation. And, second, because I just hadn't had the time.
I had been focusing on my sex drive and nothing else. And, well, there was nothing wrong with that. Every red-blooded adult needed to get laid occasionally, even if that turned out to be all it was- sex. It wasn't something I did often, but once in a while, I had affairs. Was that what I was doing with Paine? If that was the case, why did I involve him on the situation with my sister? Guys who were nothing more than sex to me before didn't even know I had a sister. Granted, the situation was weird. And Paine had kind of forced his way into my life, throwing it even further off its axis.
Was I just some notch to him? Bag the rich bitch and brag about it to your buddies? If so, was I offended by that or okay with it?
"You're thinking too much," Paine interrupted my train of thought.
"What?" I said, shaking my head and looking for him because he wasn't beside me anymore. Somehow without my noticing, he had moved away toward the coffee pot and made us each a cup. He was walking back then, handing me the mug.
"Sawyer is a dick and he likes pushing buttons. That's what he does. You start thinking about the shit he says, you'll drive yourself crazy."
"Right," I agreed, sipping my coffee and silently telling myself that the only reason he could push a button was because it existed in the first place.
"You're tired. I'm beat. We've had a weird fucking night. Let's just call it a wash, yeah?"
"A wash?"
"We ain't fucking after that," he said with a smile, waving a hand out.
"Oh, okay." Yeah, that was kind of the last thing on my mind anyway.
"So let's sleep."
"Let's?" I questioned.
"Your bed is comfortable as fuck and I don't feel like driving home this late. You can try to relegate me to the guest room you stick poor Roman in, but I'll end up beside you regardless," he said, putting down his coffee mug and moving out toward the dining room.
I took a long sip of my coffee before putting it on the counter, hopping down, and following him upstairs.
I was going to sleep with Paine.
In the most literal way.
Somehow, that felt almost more intimate than sleeping with him in the figurative way.
When I got into my room, he had already kicked out of his shoes, his pants were gone, and so was his shirt. I felt my feet falter as I stepped into the doorway, taking in his broad back covered in dark tattoos. And while they were fascinating, the muscles were even more so. From the width of his shoulders, the strong plane of his back, to the muscular ass that filled out his dark boxer briefs way too well, he was a specimen of male perfection.
He turned slowly, as if sensing me looking at him, ducked his head to the side, and gave me a small smile. "Figured I'd leave the boxers on just this once."
I swallowed hard. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever is comfortable."
"Comfortable would be skin on skin with you, cock buried in that tight, wet pussy while you moan into my ear. But I'll settle for this."
So that whole... sex being the last thing on my mind thing? Yeah, that wasn't true anymore. My sex clenched hard and it was an effort to force myself to move forward toward my dresser, snagging whatever my hands reached for first and throwing myself into the bathroom. I stripped out of my clothes, washed my face, brushed my teeth, took out my contacts, and reached for my pajamas. It was right then that I realized I hadn't grabbed one of the chaste silky Victoria's Secret sleep shirts I thought I had, but a God damn white and pink nightie.
Great. That was just great.
I sighed at my blurry reflection and rolled up the nightie, slipping it over my head. It slithered over my sensitive skin in a far too erotic way and I knew that anytime I shifted in that bed, I was going to be washed over with that sensation again. Plus, the whole... Paine was going to see me in something overtly sexual while he was mostly naked thing. I said a silent 'thank you' to the universe that I had picked one that was solid silk and not one of the see-through lace ones.
On a shrug, I walked out of the bathroom, turning off the light and drawing Paine's attention from where he was sitting off the side of the bed.
"Fuck babygirl," he groaned, running a hand over his cheek. "You own stock in a lingerie company?" he teased, crooking a finger at me. And, well, when a man as sexy and mostly naked as Paine crooked a finger at you, you went to him. His hands moved up the sides of my thighs, whispering up my skin until they came in contact with the nightie then settled at my hips. "Alright," he said after a long minute, "climb in."
"Climb in?" I repeated dumbly, half-expecting him to grab me and finish what we started earlier.
"Yeah, baby, climb in. We're sleeping, remember?"
Yeah, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be sleeping. But I moved beside him and climbed in, settling against the pillows as Paine turned, snagged the blankets, and pulled them up over both our bodies. He settled back then slid an arm under my neck, curling it and pulling me toward him until I was nestled into his side. Uncomfortable, I pressed up and moved to rest my cheek on his chest. His arm curled tighter around me as I settled in. My hand went up to the other side of his chest, my finger tracing over the large, bold '3' tattooed onto his pectoral.
"You live through the first year, you have to get the gang ink," he explained.
"You haven't covered it."
Beneath me, he shrugged. "It's a part of me. Covering up the mark on my skin doesn't make those years I spent disappear. It was a huge chunk of my life. I'm not gonna lie about it or pretend it didn't happen. Now sleep, baby," he said, his voice going soft and my belly did a flip-flop I tried to ignore.
It had been a long while since I fell asleep with a man. I forgot how nice it was to feel a firm body beneath yours and a strong arm around you, anchoring you to him like he didn't want you to accidentally slip away, to hear a heartbeat under your ear.
It was soothing.
Within minutes, I was out.
Eleven
Elsie
I woke up tucked in tight with blankets, slightly disoriented until the events of the night before came into focus. Confused, I shot up in bed. First, checking the clock to make sure I wasn't late for work. I had an hour and a half still. Second, looking around to see if Paine's clothes were still on the floor like he had gone down for coffee or something. Even his shoes were gone.
I squelched the unexpected twinge of disappointment, grabbed work clothes, and headed into the bathroom to shower. Forty minutes later, I was in steel gray slacks, black heels, and a black lightweight sweater. My hair was dry, my makeup done. I grabbed a black, gray, and white swirled scarf and tied it around my neck then went downstairs to head out early. There was no reason to sit around my house for a half an hour over-thinking what it meant that Paine sneaked out in the middle of the night or early morning.
I already had those thoughts on my mind all through my shower and prepping and, well, let's just say it wasn't helping my sour mood any.
My feet hit the bottom landing before I heard it, too consumed with my own depressive inner monologue to notice it before. There was clanging and the low, throbbing bass beat of hip hop music coming from my kitchen. I didn't realize I was smiling until my cheeks started to hurt. Cursing myself and making the smile fall, I moved through my dining room and into my kitchen to find Paine, changed, standing in front of my stove and pouring something into a pan, something I definitely did not have in my house the night before.
"Did you go shopping?" I asked, making Paine's head swivel toward me, doing a slow inspection as if there was anything sexy about my work attire, landing for a second on my neck.
"Come here, babygirl," he said, turning from the stove and going toward a small bag sitting on my island.
"Why?" I asked, already moving further into the room.
"Here," he said when I got close, reaching out for my scarf, untying it, and pulling it off. He reached into the bag and pulled out a small tube of something skin-colored, holding it up. "Sell this at the shop. It covers tattoos. It should work on your bruises," he said, twisting off the cap. "Pull your hair up for me," he said, squeezing some of the makeup onto his hands and reaching out toward me.
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