by Shay Savage
“I knew that,” Rinaldo says. He rubs his chin with his fingers. “I’d forgotten, honestly, but I knew Stark was his original trainer. Do you think he’s involved now?”
“I haven’t found anything concrete, but it might make sense. Assuming he’s connected to the rest of the crime world at all, he’s heard I’m not dead. He may confront Sebastian. I have the feeling Sebastian would tell him about the deal we struck.”
“To get rid of Joseph Franks.”
“Exactly.”
“So it could be about revenge.”
“Possibly.”
“Sebastian could be involved as well.”
I’d only spent a few hours talking to Sebastian Stark when we were trapped in an avalanche, but I still feel I know him pretty well. We aren’t so different, my half-brother and I, but I am positive his motives were focused on his family.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “He wanted out, and Franks was the only person keeping him in. He moved out to the burbs and has a kid to raise now. I don’t think he’d put himself in the middle of this.”
“So Joshua is definitely involved,” Rinaldo says, summarizing, “but has to have someone on the inside working with him if he’s receiving money from my businesses. Landon Stark could be involved as well.”
“I think so.”
“Find out for sure.”
“Yes, sir.” I start to gather up my stuff, then pause. There’s something else I really should tell Rinaldo, so I turn back to him. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
“I should probably mention something else I came across about Sebastian Stark.”
“What is that?”
“Well, he’s from the Chicago area. Landon found him street fighting before he trained him for tournaments. Before that, he was in the system after being abandoned by Alexander Janez—the same man who put me up for adoption.”
“What are you saying?”
“Sebastian Stark and I are brothers.”
Rinaldo looks at me for a long time.
“Is that how you talked him into letting you live?”
“No, sir. I never told him.”
“You should call him,” Rinaldo says without hesitation.
“Why?”
“If you didn’t have me to call family, wouldn’t you want to know?”
I hadn’t thought about it that way. If our positions were reversed, would I want to know? What benefit could he possibly receive, knowing he’s related to the crazy hit man who tried to kill him? If I were to contact him, what would happen next? Christmas gatherings with his family? Birthday celebrations?
As stupid as it sounds, the idea isn’t abhorrent to me.
Was some family, no matter how fucked up they were, better than none?
Rinaldo groans as he stands up, rubbing at his back and bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Are you all right, sir?”
“I suppose so,” Rinaldo says with a grimace. “My back has been killing me the past few weeks. I’ve been to the chiropractor Franklyn suggested, but it hasn’t helped. Just getting to be an old man, I suppose.”
“You’ve got a few years left, I imagine.” I grin at him. “I’m going to get with Jonathan and start digging some more.”
“You do that.”
I grab my jacket from the wall hook and open the door.
“Evan?” Rinaldo calls as I start to leave. “Have you seen Felisa around?”
I pause a moment, pretending to think.
“I guess the last time I saw her was yesterday. She was looking for you.”
“Where?”
“Here in your office.”
“Did she say what she wanted?”
“No,” I tell him. I raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Actually, she was hitting me up for information on myself. Apparently, someone told her I needed to get my feelings out or something.”
“Guilty!” Rinaldo laughs and holds his hands up in the air. “She’s good to talk to. I hope you take her up on it.”
“We talked a bit,” I say with a shrug, then let out a long sigh. “I appreciate it, sir. Really I do, but I’m fine.”
“You’ve never been fine, son.” His words send a tingle down my back.
For a moment, I try to determine when I have been really, truly fine. There have been a handful of good memories over the years, but I can’t come up with an extended period of time when I was really all right. As a child, I wondered who my parents were. As a teen, it was all about how to get Mother Superior out of her habit and into bed so I could blackmail her into letting me leave. From there, I went straight into the Marines.
Maybe then—that first year—I was good. I recalled going through basic training and feeling like I actually belonged somewhere for the first time in my life. There was the initial moment when someone put a rifle with a scope in my hands, and I hit the target on the second shot. I knew right then what I was meant to do, and the sense of pride in myself was something that has only ever been matched by hearing Rinaldo refer to me as his son.
He’d just done that again. In addition, I’d taken care of something that was a threat to him and his family whether he recognized it or not. In that sense, I did feel pretty good.
“I’m as fine as I have ever been,” I say with a half-smile.
He gives me a hard look, but I remain ever stoic. I’m pleased the conversation was so easily diverted to me instead of Felisa, but I don’t want it going much further.
“Well, I hope you’ll talk to her again,” Rinaldo finally says. “Let me know if you see her. She’s not answering her phone.”
“Will do, sir.”
*****
Scratch, scratch, scrape!
“Stupid little bitch.” The sound of metal on metal makes me cringe.
No matter what I do, the damn Soccer Mom bumper sticker won’t come off the Camaro. I don’t know what kind of adhesive it has on it, but I’m convinced the stuff could withstand acid. All I’ve managed to do is make it look worse. I throw the screwdriver and bottle of Goo Gone across the parking garage and curse.
It’s nearly ten pm. I’m getting a headache, and I’m going to need a whole new bumper because this damn sticker won’t come off my car. I’ve also hit nothing but dead ends on my investigation of Landon Stark and Joshua Taylor. I can’t find any trace of either of them in town, and I’m actually considering hitting up gang members for more information.
“Fuck this.” I shove away from the vehicle and head back up to my apartment for a shower. It doesn’t help my mood any. I try to sleep, but I just stare at the ceiling. After an hour of this, I shove out of bed and get dressed.
Looking for Alina feels like giving in. I’m not sure exactly what I’m surrendering to, but the feeling is definitely there. Felisa’s last conversation keeps running through my mind. I’ve spent my life as a loner in one way or another. I’d had Odin, my dog, and he’d always been enough company for me. It seems out of character to admit that I don’t want to be alone, at least not at night, as if I were a six-year-old insisting on a nightlight before the door is closed.
I briefly consider the acquisition of another dog but ultimately dismiss the idea. I’d become attached, and attached means vulnerable.
Alina’s not on her corner.
Again.
I’m not sure why I’m so pissed off, but I am.
Cruising around, I see the redhead who blew me a few nights ago but don’t approach her. I watch Loretta getting into a silver Camry but still see no sign of Alina.
Maybe I should consider watching a porno on pay-per-view.
I turn the Camaro around and get back on I94, floor the accelerator with the intent of going back home, but then turn around and head back again. Porn isn’t going to help me sleep, and I need sleep more than an orgasm.
This time, I see Alina’s long hair flowing around her shoulders as she gets out of a car up the street. I stare at the back of the dark-colored sedan, memorizing the license plate and wonder
ing how long it would take to find the john’s address.
Did she blow him? Fuck him? How many times?
Alina looks up as I pull the Camaro to the curb and stop. She tilts her head, nods, and holds up a finger as she rushes over to a guy near the alley and hands him some cash.
I try to get a look at him, but it’s dark and I can’t see his features. I haven’t bothered to ask her who her pimp is, but now I’m curious. She speaks with him for a minute before coming over to me.
“Hey.” She smiles as she leans over and peers through the car window.
“You ready?” I realize I sound like I’m picking her up for a date. “I mean, do you want to… or rather, are you free…?”
Shit, why do I sound like a fucking teenager looking for a prom date?
Alina snickers and licks her lips.
“Just get in,” I finally say with a sigh.
She checks the contents of her purse before she opens the door and settles into the passenger seat.
“How are you, Evan?” she asks.
I find the question odd. I’m tempted to give a bland, standard response, but the look on her face tells me she really wants to know.
“I feel like shit.”
“Worse than usual?”
“Not really.” I pull onto the highway but stay around the speed limit. The last thing I need is to be pulled over with a hooker in the car. “I’m probably ten percent better than usual.”
“Well, that’s something.” Alina reaches over and places her hand on my leg. She doesn’t squeeze it or move up toward my dick, she just lays her hand there and lightly rubs my thigh with her thumb.
We don’t exchange any more words, but when I pull off the highway and have to stop for a red light, I place my hand over hers until I have to move it back to the gearshift. The leather is cold compared to her fingers, and I slow down a bit to make sure I end up stopping at the next light so I can lay my hand on hers again.
If Alina notices, she doesn’t say anything.
Unlike the previous times I’ve brought Alina to my apartment, sleep is not the only thing on my mind. As soon as we are through the door, I pull her up against me.
With my hand cupping her chin, I press my mouth to hers. Guiding her backside to the wall in the entryway, I lean against her, meshing our bodies together. She reaches up and rubs the hair at the back of my neck.
Slipping my arm around her back, I bring our hips closer together. There’s no doubt she can feel how hard I am, but I don’t grind into her. I just keep kissing her—tasting her lips and tongue until I start to feel light-headed.
I move my lips to her neck, lick her just below her ear, and inhale. Pausing, I notice a difference in the way she smells. Tensing slightly, I understand why.
She was with that guy in the sedan.
I know my thoughts are ridiculous, but that doesn’t seem to matter to me. Of course she was with another guy—probably several. She was with other guys the last time I picked her up as well. She could have been with dozens of guys a night when I hadn’t been able to find her.
She’s a hooker. They’re all hookers. That’s the way I like them.
Tilting my head down and keeping my eyes closed, I try not to breathe for a moment.
“Evan?”
“What?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
The odor burns into my head, filling me with thoughts of her on her back with some random dude rutting into her. I don’t know if it’s really the scent of the last john on her skin or not, but I don’t like it at all. I push away and grab both her hands to lead her into the bathroom. I turn on the water and remove her clothes quickly. Alina stands still and silent as I tear the shirt over my head and unbuckle my belt. I drop my jeans and boxers to the floor as the water from the shower fills the room with steam.
She’s staring at me but doesn’t say a word. There’s something about the look in her eye that makes me believe she knows exactly what I’m doing and why. Hell, it probably isn’t the first time a guy’s washed the smell of another man off of her.
The thought is unsettling.
Directing her into the shower, I fill my hands with my own body wash and lather her skin from shoulders to thighs. The familiar scent of my own soap removes the traces of whatever man or men were left on her skin, and I start to relax.
Alina leans back against the marble shower wall and closes her eyes as I stroke her sides. I wash her around her breasts then up to her neck and back down again. Kneeling a little, I run my hands over her legs, stand again, and reach between them. She moans and grabs onto my shoulders as I finger her.
When I think she’s near the edge, I take my fingers away and turn her around. She grunts softly as the contact breaks and grips my arms when I circle her waist with them. The lather flows into the drain as she tilts her head back into the spray.
Alina takes the bottle of shower gel and looks up at me with questioning eyes. I nod once, and she fills her hands with the soap. First she runs her hands over my chest, then down my arms and across my stomach. She reaches around to run her hands over my ass before kneeling in front of me and washing my legs.
Again, she looks up at me with the same questioning expression, and again I nod once.
She takes me in her mouth, and my knees buckle. She stares up at me even though the water has to be stinging her eyes. My cock is engulfed in her mouth as she applies suction and draws me into her throat.
“Oh, fuck…” I have to place my hand on the wall of the shower to keep from falling over. Maybe the lack of sleep is catching up to me, but it’s more likely the glorious feeling of her warm mouth over my length.
I wrap my fingers through her drenched hair to try to keep my balance. It isn’t working, and I’m about to lose control. Slowly stepping back, I watch her eyes as my cock slips from her mouth.
Her hair seems even longer now that it’s wet. It’s almost touching the floor of the shower. Her makeup is smeared into dark circles around her bright blue eyes, and her skin is pink from the heat of the water.
She’s beautiful.
I reach down and help her back to her feet before turning the water off and grabbing a couple of towels. She dries herself a little before wrapping the towel around her body and under her arms. She touches the side of my face for a moment, rubbing her thumb over the stubble on my cheek.
“You need to lie down,” she says quietly.
I agree and take her hand. I’m still a little out of breath as we enter the bedroom and climb onto the bed. We lie on our sides and face each other, and Alina shivers a bit as she pulls the sheet up over us.
I slowly stroke her skin, caressing her from her shoulders to her hips as I kiss her mouth, then her chin, then her neck. I find her breast with one hand and hold it to me as I suck her nipple into my mouth. She arches her back as her fingers dig into my scalp.
As tired as I am, I want inside of her. I want my mark on her. I want her to go to sleep in my bed, feeling the after-effects of my cock, not someone else’s, inside of her.
Alina moves to her back beneath me as I reach over to the nightstand, grab a condom from the drawer, and roll it over my dick. She runs her hands over my chest and shoulders as I position myself between her thighs and push forward. I hold myself there briefly as she reaches around and grasps my ass with both hands.
Like the previous encounter, I move in her slowly. Each thrust is deep, and I pull nearly all the way out before penetrating her again. My skin tingles where she touches me. I lean forward and place my hand at the back of her neck to pull her mouth to mine.
Kissing her with the same rhythm as my strokes, I both feel and hear her groan into my mouth. I kiss her lips before moving my mouth back to her tits. Alina tightens her thighs around my ass and moans louder. I smile at the sound and want to hear more.
Reaching between us, I run two fingers around her clit. Up and down, around in a circle, then up and down again, I t
ime my strokes perfectly with the motion. I run my nose up between her breasts and taste the sweat on her neck.
With my lips, I can feel her rapid heartbeat through the skin of her neck. It matches my own. Her breath is coming in gasps, and I can feel the heat of it on my cheek. I continue the slow pace, stroking in and out of her as she begins to writhe beneath me.
I could go on like this forever. I’m not even sure I want to come.
Alina runs her hands down my back, gripping my ass, and pulling me into her deeper.
“Evan…please…”
I don’t know what she’s asking for. I can feel her clenching around my cock, and a shooting, tingling feeling rushes over my shaft. I arch my back, driving into her deeply as she moans with every thrust. She moves her hands up and digs her fingers into my back as I rotate my hips, pull back, and then slide into her again.
Wrapping her arms up under mine and around my shoulders, Alina pushes up off the mattress and cries out as she tightens around me. Any ideas of lasting forever leave me as I quicken my pace. My head swims, and I let go.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I cry out as the waves wash over me. I collapse on top of her for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I push away as soon as I’m able, securing the edge of the condom with my fingers as I pull out of her.
I toss the rolled up condom into the nearby trashcan as Alina excuses herself to the bathroom. She returns a minute later, smelling like lavender, and slips back into bed beside me. I scoot over to get closer to her, wrap one arm around her waist, and tuck my head against her shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Evan?”
“I’m fine.” I’m not, but it doesn’t really matter.
“You aren’t falling asleep,” she says. “You usually fall right to sleep.”
I sigh and glance up at her. Her expression is soft.
“Just work shit,” I say dismissively.
Alina nods but doesn’t ask for any details. It’s strange being with a woman who doesn’t ask questions—strange and relieving.
