I repeatedly punch the elevator button trying to hurry it up. I’m so mad I’m shaking. I just want out of this building and away from Mr. I can’t take no for an answer.
Bo
Temper, temper. It doesn’t take a psychologist to read her body language when she stomps out of the building. This is a woman with purpose. The fierce determination oozing off of her is a turn on. Looks like my prey has a little fight in her. I do love a good fight followed by a rough fuck. She just got a hell of a lot more interesting.
I laugh when her car backfires again and she slams her hands down on the steering wheel repeatedly beating it in anger. This girl needs a tune up in more ways than one. Looks like some stress relief might be in order. This time her boss isn’t looking out the window, which tells me that’s probably who she got into it with. Hmm, he must be pissed too.
When I follow her on this occasion, I feel a sense of urgency to make sure she safely gets to wherever she’s going. Where the hell is this sudden need to nurture coming from? I shake it off and put myself back into professional mode. I’ve got a job to do, and guarding over a damsel in distress isn’t part of the description. I’m relieved I’m not in Louisiana with my father’s eagle eye watching my every move—the man doesn’t miss anything—ever. At least I can have some fun ruining the news station man’s life. This girl might come in handy after all.
Right now, she’s a perfect example of why they say not to drive mad. The thought that she’s a poster child for road rage amuses me, but it also concerns me. She isn’t putting anyone in danger… yet, but her driving definitely isn’t the ten-o-clock—two-o-clock hands on the wheel that it was earlier. I chuckle when she pulls into the parking lot of a club. It isn’t the kind of bar I’m used to. This is a nightclub, but I can do the chameleon thing in the name of stalking.
I wait until she makes her way in and give her about ten minutes before I follow her. I wouldn’t want to make the poor little thing skittish. I’ll save that for later.
Chapter Three
Ashleigh
“Girl, I am so beyond pissed!”
“I can tell by the way you’re slamming that knock-off purse of yours down on my bar.” The best friend I have in the world laughs, handing me a shot of Patron and a Corona with lime. “It’s on me. You look like you need a drink. How you can mix that shit, I don’t know. I’ve yet to figure that one out.”
“People do it with whiskey. What’s the difference?”
“Far be it from me to get in the way of a girl and her liquor.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I say, tossing the shot back.
She leans down planting her elbows on the bar and looks at me. “Now spill all the dirt before I get busy. It’s ladies’ night and this place will be a madhouse within the hour.”
I’m grateful for the shot of Patron that’s already taken the edge off—settled nerves make it easier to fill her in on my fucked up day.
“I got fired.”
“Ouch. Finally told that asshole boss of yours off, huh?”
“Yes. I did.” I don’t try to restrain the pout on my face. She’s my closest friend, and I know she’ll understand why I lost my temper. “He called me missy. Stephanie, he sent me on a job and didn’t even tell me what the story was. Ever since I told him I wouldn’t do dinner with him, he sends me on all the shit jobs. It’s like he’s sexually harassing me but I don’t have proof. Oh… and he had the nerve to call me entitled. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I’m at—two jobs to make it through college and no family to help. I don’t call that entitled. The guy gets off on humiliating me. It’s like he pushed me until I couldn’t take it anymore. He has this way of doing shit to me and then acting like I’m imagining things. He’s one big mind fuck—and not in a good way.”
“Ha, ha, that’s your research on kink talking.”
“What do you mean?”
“A good mind-fuck, silly.”
“Gotcha. Anyway, he’s purposely trying to bully me and I think we both know I don’t take being pushed around very well.”
She places her hand over mine and the look on her face is one of sincerity. “First off, you shouldn’t have to. Sweetie, that’s what these guys do. They try to fuck you, and when you don’t give them what they want, they get a bruised ego and then they take it out on you. Your boss isn’t a man who’s used to hearing the word no. He’s still living in the dark ages. As far as I’m concerned, he needed a woman to stand up to his misogynistic ass.” She looks at me before she continues, and I know it’s her way of letting me know she means what she’s saying. “You did the right thing.” Even though I know I did the right thing, it still helps to hear it from someone else. I look up at her through my eyelashes and giggle when I speak.
“I told him to stick his two inch bruised ego back in his pants—that was when he fired me.”
She laughs so hard I can see tears in her eyes. I don’t know why but it makes me feel better. She pours me another shot of Patron and places it in front of me. “Have another drink on me; you earned it. I haven’t laughed that hard in months.” She wipes the bar down and sets the cloth to the side before she continues. “You can get another job. You’re a damn good reporter. It’s evident you were going nowhere with that asshole for a boss. He would have promotion blocked you at every turn.”
“Great spin on the whole cock blocking analogy.” This time it’s me who’s laughing. My tone goes back to serious as I continue. “He said he was going to smear my name, that by the time he was done I wouldn’t be able to get a job in this town.”
“Not if you steal his story and take it to another network.”
“I can see it now… a Pulitzer Prize for a story on sugar.” I roll my eyes.
“Sugar?”
“Yeah, a truckload of sugar got stolen.”
“Why would someone steal a truckload of sugar?”
“I’m thinking they got bad information. Maybe they thought it was a truck load of electronics or something.”
“I guess you’ll never know now.”
The lightbulb that goes off in my head must show in my expression because the woman who knows me better than anybody begins slowly shaking her head no. “Not if I have my way,” I tell her, as I grab my purse and head towards the door.
“You can’t drive. You’ve been drinking,” She yells out.
I look over my shoulder and yell in her direction, “I’ll catch a cab. Tell Bernie I’ll pick up my car tomorrow.”
“Call me, and be careful.”
My only reply is tossing my hand up acknowledging I heard her. I’m a woman on a mission now—a mission to ruin that bastard who got me fired.
Hailing a cab isn’t an issue. In a matter of moments I’m back in front of the TV station.
“Keep the meter running, and please don’t leave. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Whatever you say lady. I got nowhere else to be.”
I can feel my heart thundering in my chest as I walk towards the admissions desk. If the guard on duty knows I got fired today my plan is never going to work.
“Late night, Ashleigh?” I’m relieved my dumb ass boss evidently didn’t have time to nix my credentials today—now let’s hope my security codes are still valid.
“Yeah, George. You know how it is… we reporters never sleep.”
He flips the sign in sheet around and I sign in under a different name hoping he doesn’t look. I make sure it’s sloppy enough to look like one of those doctor’s signatures you never can read. I walk to the elevator and make my way up to my boss’ office. I pull a pair of driving gloves from my purse and put them on before I punch in his security code. I can’t believe my dumb luck when it works—or rather my dumb boss’ mistake of underestimating a fellow reporter. Of all people, this guy should be aware we’re curious by nature. Like a dog with a bone, when we sniff out a story, there’s no letting go until we’ve unearthed every skeleton in every closet. Getting revenge on this bastard only makes the ven
ture sweeter—screw revenge being a dish best served cold. I want him to know who took him down. Every time he sees my face on a rival network, he’ll remember he messed with the wrong woman.
I resist the urge to turn on the light when I get into his office and use the flashlight app on my phone instead. I dig out a fingernail file and get to work on breaking the lock on his filing cabinet. I’m really pushing the limit here, but I’m too far gone. Stephanie I’ll kill you if you woke up the curious cat in me and there’s no story here.
My hands are shaking as I quickly flip through his files and find what I’m looking for. I have a hard time believing the interview with that truck driver was a mistake. My boss is up to something, and I’m going to find out what it is. At least I hope like hell he is. If I get locked up for some mistake story, or him purposely setting me up, I’ll never forgive myself. He won’t have to worry about kicking my ass for breaking in, I’ll do it for him. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone overboard due to my active imagination. I push the thoughts aside and focus on getting all the information I need. This opportunity isn’t going to present itself again, so I’m going for the jugular.
When I’m satisfied that I have all the paperwork I need, I shove the files down into my knock off purse—It’s plenty big enough to hold them. Now it’s time to get the hell out of his office as fast as I can. This time, when I leave, I take the service exit and run back to the cab. I feel like any minute the security guard is going to come running out after me. It’s only after we pull out of the parking that I finally breathe easy.
“Back to the club please.”
“You got it lady.”
Bo
The way she’s running from the back of that building and jumping into that cab like it’s a getaway car is enough to tell me she’s up to something. I have to admit, there’s never a dull moment with this girl.
When she has the cab driver take her back to the club I get an idea. There’s more than one way to deal with this little troublemaker. She might actually be more of an asset than what I previously anticipated.
This time, when we pull into the parking lot it’s full. Ladies’ night has turned into full party mode by the looks of the congested parking lot and people milling around talking. I park far enough away to watch her unnoticed. She pays the cab driver. I watch as she walks towards her car and I immediately begin thinking up ways to keep her from driving. I don’t want her wrecking her car by driving into some soccer mom’s van full of kids.
Looks like she’s going back in for a couple of drinks and that works for me. The atmosphere has completely changed when I walk into the bar—this I can work with. Crowds are always easier to blend into. With all these men in here, I won‘t be waiting to hit on her. It’s evident the men came out for ladies’ night. Funny thing about it is, as hot as some of these women are, none of them pique my attention like she does. I’m not sure where this interest for this nosey little reporter is coming from, but I’m damn sure not going to let it get in the way of my mission.
I grab a beer and stand against the wall, watching her talk to her friend. It doesn’t take her long to start doing shots again. She picks her beer up and makes her way towards the dance floor. She looks like she’s pretty happy about whatever went on in that office building earlier. She sure isn’t the same stressed mess I saw earlier.
Irritation courses through me when I see some guy grab her hand and begin dancing with her. It’s all I can do to wait until the song finishes before I cut in. I kick myself for wanting to go over there and rip his face off. I need to get finished with this job and get the hell out of this city before this girl gets under my skin. As soon as the song ends I’m on her.
When I grab her and pull her into me moving in time with the slow music, it’s like a jolt of electricity hits my system. Her eyes are like magnets drawing me in and I can’t look away. Big blue, innocent, inquisitive eyes look up at me as if she’s asking me what I’m doing, but no words come from her mouth.
It’s like everyone in the room disappears, except for us. I know she won’t be going home alone tonight—she won’t be going home at all.
“Who are you?” She asks, as if trying to get some kind of bearing on what’s happening.
I look down on her studying her face as I answer,
“I’m the man who’s never going to let you go.”
Ashleigh
As soon as I saw him standing against the wall it was like looking into the face of fate. Copper colored hair with sun bleached highlights running strategically through it give testimony to the fact he’s an outdoorsy type. It hangs perfectly around a face that looks like the gods themselves carved it from stone. Jeans and a tight, black tee-shirt with a beer hanging loosely between two fingers and an I don’t give a fuck attitude have me convinced he the sexiest specimen of a man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can’t stop staring, and right now I don’t want to.
The man I’m dancing with is a long forgotten memory when I see him sauntering in my direction. The expression on his face says nothing is going to stop him from cutting in on this dance. It’s like time stopped and all I can see is him.
Before this moment, I would have told you things like this don’t happen—not to me anyway. When he locks his arm around my waist and pulls me into his rock solid body, I feel like I’ve been gut punched—like the air got sucked out of the room.
He’s looking at me like he owns me and I like it. I like the way I feel like every nerve in my body is on high alert. I like the way he’s looking at me like he’s climbing down inside of me and looking at every deep dark secret I have. I feel like I’ve been thunderstruck, and I’ll never be the same.
I’m not the girl who comes into a bar looking for the man of her dreams. I think romance is bullshit. I’m married to my career. I’m the reasonable one who purposely steers clear of any kind of connection with men. For me, it’s no boyfriends, no one-night stands, and definitely no love.
I pull my eyes away from his and look over in Stephanie’s direction, and the ear to ear smile on her face says she approves. She’s the one who’s been telling me I need to get laid for the last year.
He pulls me towards the bar in her direction. Even though the place is packed, she makes her way down towards us, pops a top on a beer for him and hands me another shot.
“Who’s the cutie?” She’s talking to me, but eyeing him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.
“I don’t know.” I look him full in the face with a challenge in my tone, “Who are you?”
“Name’s Bo.”
“You got a last name Bo?”
The cocky smile on his face warms me as he answers, “For you I do. It’s Trudeau, ma’am.”
My eyes squint as I study his features. His look is direct like he’s unmoved by whatever I’m going to say.
“You’re Cajun.”
“European and Cajun, ma’am.”
“The perfect mix of class and badass.”
“Hey. Hey you?!?” Before the man I was dancing with has the opportunity to grab my arm, Bo has the man’s face smashed into the bar with his arm twisted behind his back. The look on his face scares me.
“That ain’t no way to talk to a lady!”
He pushes him out into the crowd of people on the dance floor, and the man does a backwards crab crawl trying to get away. He’s clearly scared.
Before I have the chance to change my mind, I grab his hand and pull him towards the door.
“Hey… where are you two going?” Stephanie yells out behind us.
“I’m taking him home with me.” This will be the first time in my life I’ve ever had a one-night stand.
“Call me in the morning.”
“She will.” Bo yells out in Stephanie’s direction.
I have no way of knowing that this one decision will change my life forever.
Chapter Four
Bo
“I know damn good and well this girl isn’t a one-night stand kind of woman
. She’s a classy, innocent female who felt a connection with a man at a bar, and I’m taking advantage of the opportunity—guess that makes me the asshole in this equation. She just walked into a web of deceit and has no way of knowing she’ll be a cog in a game that goes far beyond any story she could do any interview for.
By the time we hit the door of her condominium, we’re tearing each other’s clothes off like two rabid animals. Tomorrow I’ll be an asshole—tonight I just want to be the guy who makes her come so hard she’ll never want another man.
It’s going to be a fast, furious, and no frills fuck. I’ll save the frills for later too. She peeled out of that suit blazer she was wearing as soon as our feet hit the threshold of her door. My impatience causes me to grab her shirt at the top and rip through the buttons like they don’t exist. Her bra is the next thing to go—finally, skin. I need to feel the heat coming off of her body, skin on skin, so I pull my shirt over my head tossing it in the floor like the inconvenience it is.
Her hands are fumbling with my belt and then the button and zipper on my jeans. I haven’t ever felt like I wanted to tear into a woman, like I couldn’t wait to be inside of her. The phrase I want to jump her bones takes on a whole new meaning. No romance. This is pure primal passion.
When we manage getting out of our clothes, I grip my hands beneath that sweet little ass of hers and pick her up with ease. When I finally drive my cock into her, I stop, savoring the hot, warm grip of her tight pussy wrapped around me like a welcome home.
“Where the fuck have you been all my life, girl?”
“Waiting, waiting for this kind of connection.”
My only answer is to begin to move my hips in a way that will ensure she never wants another man after me. This is supposed be a job. I never saw this coming. It’s like she’s entangling me, and I can’t let that happen.
The look on her face is sexy as fuck. Her head is back against the wall, tilted to the side, like it’s all she can do hold it up. Her lips are parted just enough for the whimpers and moans to escape. You can tell a lot by the look on a woman’s face when you’re fucking her.
Vanished (A Born Bayou Novella) Page 2
