by Gwyn McNamee
“No, I don’t, but you know what this means. You should back off. This is going to get us both killed.”
Back off? Never!
I don’t care if Abello has my name or suspects what I’m up to. I’m not going to stop doing what I know is right. I just need that information to get Abello out of the picture for good. I chew on my thumbnail and pace in front of him. “Do you think you can still get into the office?”
“What? Didn’t you hear what I just said? He has your fucking name!”
“And I know what I’m doing, Paul. I’m not giving this up.”
He grunts and curses under his breath. “You’re fucking crazy, lady.”
He has no idea.
I laugh. “Maybe I am. So, can you try again?”
A reluctant sigh seeps from his lips. “Maybe. Dom is gone next week and will be taking a lot of the men with him.”
My ears perk up and I stop pacing. “Gone? Gone where?”
“Not sure. All I know is something about going to an important meeting.”
An important meeting can only mean one thing—something big is coming. Abello controls New Orleans and the surrounding areas completely, and if he’s at a meeting, odds are it’s to direct his lackeys in some sadistic plot or organize something big.
“Okay, see what you can find out about his trip and get into that office. I really need this, Paul.”
He stands up to his full height and growls lowly. I’m sure it’s meant to be intimidating, but I don’t back down from him.
“You need this? What about me, Danika? I’m putting my ass on the line here, and he already knows something is going on. He’s probably already on the lookout for a snitch.”
“I know you are, Paul. But you are also doing it for yourself and you know it. You need Abello gone before you will ever be able to walk away, so don’t pretend this is altruistic. Just be careful and get me the info as soon as possible. The sooner this is over, the better it is for both of us.”
His glare bores into me, but I don’t look away. He huffs and reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigarette box. “I’ll see what I can do,” he mumbles as he ambles away from me, lighting up a fresh stick as he goes.
A week. I just need to wait a week and I should have what I need…from Paul, at least.
“Wow, it’s HUGE!”
Dani’s jaw hangs open and she turns in a circle to take in all of Minute Maid Park. The drive to Houston took over five hours, but it didn’t seem that long in the back of the limo. We made good use of the time. When Dani told me she’d never been to a MLB game, I couldn’t resist, even with the distance.
“It is, but there are actually parks that are a lot bigger. This only holds about forty-two thousand. Dodger Stadium holds over fifty-six thousand.”
She turns to me and grins. “This is awesome. Thanks so much for bringing me.”
“Anytime,” I reply with a wink. “Let’s get to our seats before the first pitch.” She follows me over to the handicapped seating area behind and just to the left of home plate and settles into her chair.
I haven’t been to a major league game in probably five years. I forgot how much I enjoyed the energy of the crowd. Baseball had been my mother’s response to my discontent with not being allowed to box anymore after my dad died. And while I never loved it the way I did boxing, there’s a familiar feeling of euphoria from being in the stadium.
Dani’s knee bounces up and down as she looks around the park and the field. The pitcher is on the mound throwing a few pitches to the catcher while the rest of the team is stretching and throwing around a ball for warm-ups. The smell of popcorn and hotdogs is mouth-watering, but all I can think about is how incredible Dani tastes.
The memory of licking my fingers after getting her off in the limo on the way here is crystal clear and I can still taste her on my tongue. My cock twitches in my pants and, for once, I’m thankful I’m sitting down and my inappropriately-timed hard-on isn’t noticeable to the families wandering around the ballpark.
I can’t help it. I can’t get enough of her.
She reaches down and grabs the bag from the gift shop, rifling through it until she finds the Astros hat I bought her. She pulls it down over her long hair and turns to me.
Damn. It’s ridiculous how hot she looks in that.
“How do I look?”
A grin spreads across my face and I reach out and cup her cheek, urging her to lean in closer to me. “Fucking adorable, actually.” I kiss her gently. She smiles against my lips.
She pulls away slightly and offers me a coy smile. “Oh, really? Then maybe I should wear hats more often?”
I take her hand in mine and squeeze it. “That would hardly be fair.”
“Oh, why not?”
“Because I already have a hard time controlling myself around you. If you become any more adorable, I will be in serious fucking trouble.”
She laughs and grins at me. “Good answer.”
Christ, how can I be this obsessed with this woman?
The last week has been a whirlwind. We’ve both been really busy, but we managed to see each other on Tuesday night and have talked on the phone every night we weren’t together. Well, maybe “talking” isn’t the right word because, God knows, our chats haven’t exactly been PG.
The start of the National Anthem alerts me that it’s time to stop daydreaming about Dani and pay attention to what’s going on around me. She stands, pulling off her hat and putting it over her heart.
I don’t know what I expected to hear, but when she starts singing, I can barely stop myself from laughing. She is truly and utterly awful. There isn’t a single note sung on key and yet she plows on, at the top of her lungs.
And fuck if it doesn’t make me want her more.
She doesn’t care about what anyone thinks, not one single iota. In fact, I’m pretty sure if anyone said anything to her about her lack of vocal skills, she’d probably have some witty retort about how she has other oral talents.
What I wouldn’t give to have those talents used on me.
It’s not from her lack of trying. On Tuesday, when she was over, I managed to avoid the situation completely by just making her come repeatedly. If I never gave her reprieve, she couldn’t put me in a position to have Deflate Gate again.
She didn’t seem to mind. The constant stream of moans, cries, and grunts as she came all over my face let me know I’m at least doing that right.
The anthem ends and she sits back down and glances over at me. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you have that shit-eating grin on your face?”
Apparently, I suck at hiding my reaction to her—on my face or in my pants.
“I was just thinking about Tuesday.”
She blushes and the corners of her mouth tip up as she squirms in her seat.
Yeah, she’s definitely thinking about it now.
I want her remembering how hot it was. It helps distract from the fact I haven’t let her touch me. I just need to get my head in the game and be mentally prepared for it next time.
“Ooh, the first pitch!” Her excitement matches that of the crowd as a roar goes up all around us. Our seats are pretty awesome—one of the few perks of being in a chair is the seating at places like this. Although, if it were an option, I would have her down in the first row, right behind the net, so she could experience having a fast ball flying right at her—it’s the closest she’ll ever get to being on the field.
For me, the exhilaration of being part of the game was only ever matched by being in the ring. I’m sure a lot of that had to do with the fact that I did it with my dad. I spent every possible minute with him at the gym when he was training. He would put me in the ring and “spar” with me, letting me believe I was actually able to put him down with my eight-year-old punch. It wasn’t until after his death that I realized what being in the ring really meant to me. Mom tried to keep me out of competition—and she did, I never fought again—bu
t she couldn’t keep me from the gym and the bags. It was my tie to my dad, and there was no way she was taking that from me.
Only the accident could do that.
Dani slides her hand over mine. “Hey, you all right?” She’s staring at me, concern in her blue eyes.
“Yeah, just thinking about when I used to play. That’s all.”
She frowns and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry. Is this too hard, being here? We can go.”
“Fuck no, we aren’t leaving. There are a lot of things I’ve had to deal with not being able to do anymore. This is just part of the deal.”
He sounds sincere, but the sadness in his eyes when he watches the field give him away. This is hard for him in a way I can never even begin to understand. Even after three years, he’s still coming to terms with what happened, what he lost, and things like this are going to continue to mess with him emotionally.
What the fuck do I do?
I don’t know how to handle this “feelings” shit. Dates, in and of themselves, aren’t a typical occurrence for me. Usually, it's meet someone at bar, go somewhere to fuck, repeat. Maybe I should have stressed to Savage how out of my element I am here. I don’t want him thinking I don’t care, but I have no fucking clue what to say right now.
Returning my attention to the field, I say the first thing that pops into my head. “More women should come to baseball games. The tight white pants are really doing it for me. I don’t think they know what they’re missing.”
His laugh is music to my ears. He reaches over and cups my cheek, turning me to look at him. “Have I told you how much I love that you have no filter?”
I freeze and try to school my features.
Love?
Holy hell.
My mind tells me to run screaming but I try to use logic.
It’s just a phrase. Relax.
He’s not saying he loves you.
Deep breaths.
I manage to plaster a smile on my face before he leans in to kiss me. When our lips meet, I remember why I decided to show up at his club last weekend. The electricity between us is palpable and I melt when his tongue slides along my bottom lip. The memory of our ride here and his expert hands has me squirming for the second time since we sat down.
How Savage can affect me like this is a mystery. No man has been able to hold my attention for this long, certainly not without sex. Despite my mother and Nora’s best efforts, they have been unable to get me to want anything more than a good bang. Maybe my logic for avoiding commitment is flawed, but when my dad died, my mom fell apart, and I was left caring for Nora while mom spent weeks on end in bed. I can’t say I blame her. My father was an amazing man, father, and husband. She didn’t know how to function without him.
I can’t imagine loving someone that much. I can’t say I’ve even been with anyone I remotely missed when we weren’t together—unless it was missing the orgasms they gave me. But Savage has me second-guessing my stance.
His tongue tangles with mine and a thousand ideas of how we can make use of the five-hour drive back flash through my mind. Images of me straddling him and riding him until his head explodes have me gasping against his mouth.
He pulls away and his eyebrow quirks up. “Dani, we’re in public, remember?”
A cheer from the crowd reminds me we are very much in public. I need to keep my libido in check, at least for the time being.
I glare at him for his chastisement. He knew what he was doing when he kissed me. He knows exactly what he does to me. He’s been doing it since the moment we met. This week has been no exception. Even though we’ve only seen each other once, the memory of the multiple orgasms he gave me on the couch while we were “watching” NCIS is still very fresh in my mind.
God, it had to be at least five times.
I clench my thighs together against my pulsing clit at the memory and grin to myself like a fucking idiot.
He is so damn talented with his mouth, I swear, it’s like a drug and I’m already addicted to this man.
It’s not just the sexual attraction either—if that was it, the fact he hasn’t fucked me or barely let me touch him would have sent me running, again—he’s generous, caring, and makes me laugh. Nora was right, although I refuse to admit it to her.
At dinner on Sunday, Nora called me out in front of our mom about me spending the night at Savage’s the night before. I don’t remember her seeing me at the club, but then again, I don’t remember a whole lot considering the amount I drank. Apparently, being carried out completely passed out did not go unnoticed by my little sister.
“So, are you and Savage a thing now?” she’d asked, looking at me with a strange mix of trepidation and interest.
I hissed at her to shut up, but it was too late. Mom heard and immediately jumped on the interrogate-Dani bandwagon. “Oh, a new guy? Who is this Savage?”
With a not-so-subtle eye roll toward Nora as thanks, I decided the best way to answer was with the truth. “He’s Nora’s new boss.”
The fuck-you glare I got from Nora could have frozen molten lava.
“You have a new job?” my mom had asked, innocently enough.
Talk about awkward.
Nora managed to dodge the truth by explaining she’s working part time and redirecting the attention to my love life. My mom has no idea Nora quit school, let alone what she’s doing for a living now. I had to bite my tongue about a thousand times when Nora answered Mom’s questions about her classes. Who knows how long she plans on lying to her, but the truth will come out sooner or later. She will have to face the consequences of her deception.
I only shut my mom up after I finally told her things were too new with Savage to know where they were going. She just smiled and said, “I’m just happy you are giving someone a chance.” She feels guilty and responsible for the way I live my life. I don’t hide things from her, so she knows my interactions with men aren’t designed to lead to love and marriage.
We’d left it at that, along with a note from Nora that she doesn’t need me leading Savage on and then breaking his heart. I can’t say I blame her; that would make work pretty damn awkward for her. And, as much as I hate that she’s stripping, the faith I have in Savage makes the reality of it a little more bearable. I don’t want her to have to deal with an angry ex of mine as a boss.
At the same time, I can’t let what might happen to Nora affect how I handle the Savage situation. It’s new and unusual enough as it is. Looking at him now, with that smug smile on his face, I know I don’t regret taking this chance.
It’s worth it.
I return my attention to the game to avoid thinking any more about Savage’s skills and his cock. I’m not up on my baseball. In fact, I only understand about half of what’s happening on the field.
“Why isn’t the second baseman on second base?” I ask, trying to show some interest.
Savage chuckles and seems to realize my ignorance of the game. “Because he needs to cover the area between first base and second base. Just like the shortstop covers the area between second and third.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. The first basemen stays on his base and the third baseman stays on his. Why wouldn’t they just have another short stop for in between first and second?”
He laughs and seems to consider my question. “I haven’t thought about it really. It’s just how it’s always been.”
“Well, they should change it.”
If I can change, so can baseball.
The click, click, click of my heels on the cement floor echoes in the completely empty warehouse. This place is utterly barren. Only dust and pigeons currently occupy the thousands of feet of space that once housed a bustling car assembly plant.
I glance down at my watch.
7:30.
He should be here by now. Turning in a circle, I search for any sign of Paul. He changed our meeting place, texting me this address an hour ago and telling me to come alone. Like I would ever bring anyone to a meet with him
anyway.
I hate to admit it, but maybe Savage is right. Maybe it’s a little dangerous to meet with a source alone, in an abandoned warehouse, where there probably isn’t anyone around to hear me scream if something happened. But, this is Paul, and despite his efforts during our last meeting to intimidate me, I don’t think he would ever do anything to hurt me.
He’s the one who contacted me, after all. After our last meeting, he could have disappeared and stopped calling me and there’s nothing I could do about it. But he texted to confirm our meeting today. He said he would try again, and I’ve been anxious thinking about what he might bring me—photos, recordings, paperwork, anything that can tie Mayor Dunne to Abello by more than just supposition.
I do trust Paul, but the Post-it situation has me on edge. That strange feeling of being watched has followed me since our last meeting. The only time I didn’t feel it was when I was at the game with Savage. But I can’t let my as-yet unfounded unease stop me from my mission.
I need this more than I need some quality alone time with Savage. And that’s saying A LOT.
We were both so exhausted after the game last night, we fell asleep on the ride home, quashing any hopes I had of limo sex. The lack of sex is almost as concerning as Paul’s caginess. He’d better come through.
A clank on the far side of the warehouse near a line of closed office doors breaks me from my reverie and I squint into the darkness, looking for the source of the sound. A second later, a shadow emerges, moving toward me slowly.
“Paul?” I ask, taking a slow step toward the mystery figure.
“Yeah, uh hey, Danika, sorry I’m late,” he answers, his voice quiet and shaky.
“Is everything okay?” He approaches me and, even in the dim lighting of the building, I can see he’s nervous. His entire body is twitching, and he’s in constant motion, looking around the warehouse and twisting his hands together in front of his body.
Shaking his head, he runs his hands back through his hair and paces around me anxiously. “No, I think they’re onto me.”
Fuck.
“Why? What happened?”
