Absolute Power (Absolute Power Duet Book 1)

by Jeana E. Mann

After an hour in my hotel room, I can’t stand knowing Cash is with that woman while I’m alone, wondering if he’s inside her. In need of a distraction, I decide to visit the hotel club. I touch up my makeup, smooth my hair, and head downstairs for a nightcap.

  The club is packed with patrons of the jewelry show. I manage to find a single barstool on the backside of the dance floor and order a mojito. The young man at my right spins his barstool to face me. He’s about my age, medium height and build, with pleasant features. A nice, normal guy. The kind I never go for.

  “You look lonely.” His smile is warm and friendly. “I’m here on my own, too. Can I keep you company?”

  “Um, sure. I guess.” Over his shoulder, a familiar dark head catches my attention. Cash is seated in the VIP section with several other men in suits. His blonde companion is nowhere to be seen. He smooths a hand over his tie, scanning the room. Our eyes meet. My heart skips a beat. The music grows louder.

  “What’s your name?” The guy leans closer, blocking my view of Cash.

  “Jagger.” I shift to keep Cash in my line of sight. He continues to stare at me. One of his eyebrows lifts. Even from a distance, I can sense his amusement in seeing me here.

  “I’m Will Warren, but everyone calls me Warren. Nice to meet you.” He shakes my hand. His fingers wrap around mine a little too long. I wriggle from his grasp and drop my hand into my lap.

  Bodies bob and sway on the dance floor. I catch glimpses of Cash through the haze of fog and laser lights. Several women have joined his group. A brunette balances on the arm of his chair. Each time she trails her fingers over his shoulder, my rib cage constricts.

  “So, where are you from?” Warren yells.

  “Indiana,” I shout at the same time the music stops. My declaration shatters the air. Warren bursts out laughing. A blush heats my face.

  “I’ve never been to Indiana.” When he smiles, he’s more attractive. He brushes a hand over his short hair. His gaze follows mine to Cash. “You keep looking over there. Do you know that guy?”

  “Oh, no. No, no.” I laugh and shake my head. “It’s just—those people must be pretty important. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to sit behind the velvet ropes.”

  “Me, too.” He glances over his shoulder at the privileged group before giving a resigned shrug. “The blond guy in the blue suit and all the rings on his fingers—that’s Braden Seaforth. He owns half the hotels on this street. The women are probably hookers. And the guy with the tattoos—that’s Cash Delacorte.” Hearing his name causes butterflies in my tummy. I take a sip of my drink to hide my reaction. If Warren notices, he doesn’t show it. His smile slips away, and his expression sobers. “My cousin’s a cop. He said if you want to make somebody disappear, Delacorte is your man. He’s bad news.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.” The air is too hot. I can’t breathe. I down the mojito in one long gulp then push my way through the crowd to the nearest exit, leaving Warren alone at the bar. On my left is a series of small balconies overlooking the courtyard. I burst through the first set of doors and into the cool quiet.

  The edges of the balcony are screened by tall potted palms and ferns. Blossoms of bougainvillea trail over the railings. I gulp in the fresh air until my pulse settles. The past few months have been overwhelming. No wonder my nerves are frazzled. I just need a minute to pull myself together.

  “Everything all right?” Cash’s voice buzzes next to my ear.

  I don’t turn around. If I look at him, he’ll see my weakness and use it against me. “I’m fine. Go back to your party.”

  “That’s not a party. It’s work.” He inches closer until the heat of his body warms my backside. “Who was your friend?”

  “No one.” I throw the question back at him. “You seem to have lots of friends.”

  “Business associates.” The tips of his fingers graze my collarbone as he sweeps my hair to one side.

  “Who was the woman on the elevator? Are you fucking her?” I hate myself for wanting to know more about him, but I can’t help it. I shrink from his touch. He follows me, inching closer.

  “Are you jealous, Jagger?” His breath puffs against my bare skin. I arch toward him, drawn by an undeniable force. The softness of his lips brushes my neck.

  “Yes.” There’s no point in denying it. The thought of him between any woman’s legs but mine turns my vision red.

  “Finally we’re getting somewhere.” He draws my left sleeve lower and kisses my shoulder. I turn my head so I can see his expression. His pupils are large, black, infinite pools of ink.

  I dig my fingers into the hard muscles of his thighs, gathering the fabric of his trousers in my grip, tugging him closer. “I need to know.”

  “I thought about it, but why would I settle for her when you’re the one I want?” It takes a few seconds for the meaning behind his words to settle over me. A ripple of gooseflesh crosses my nape in the wake of his kisses. He nips at my earlobe. “You should know that I’m not the kind of guy to fuck around. When I’m with someone, I’m completely faithful.”

  My head swims with the prettiness of his words. “But we’re not together, are we?”

  The rough skin of his palms smooths up my arms. “Not yet.”

  “Are you here to collect payment? Because I don’t think I can do that again.” Although our encounter had been hot, the blow to my self-esteem was a price I’m no longer willing to pay. I care too much, and caring leads to heartbreak.

  “I’m here because you’re so damn sexy in this dress, and I was worried about you.” His hands shift to cup my breasts. I grind my ass into his pelvis, pleased to feel the steel rod inside his trousers. A sharp intake of breath hisses through his teeth. “Ah, Jagger. What are you doing to me? Why can’t I get you out of my head?”

  I don’t answer. Instead, I lift the hem of my dress to reveal my panties. His answer shifts the power in my favor. I need to feel him inside me. Just once. One time will be enough to end this ridiculous schoolgirl crush I’ve been carrying for him, and I can get on with my life.

  No one can see us through the screen of foliage. His hand slips inside the front of my panties. One of his fingers finds my clit and drags through the wetness. The pressure between my legs continues to build, demanding release. My head falls against his chest. His kisses rain over my temple, my jaw, my neck. I moan when his fingers leave to fumble at his fly. The growl of his zipper mingles with the sounds of our harsh breathing. While he puts on a condom, I push my panties down my hips, let them fall to the floor, and step out of them. Everything about this is so wrong, but it feels so right.

  “Spread your legs. Arch your back.” He whispers the commands in my ear as he drags the head of his cock through the cleft of my bottom. One slow shove seats him inside me—all the way to the root. I gasp at the intrusion, the excruciating pleasure of being stretched beyond reason. It’s everything I dreamed of and more. He grunts and pulls out. Repeats the movement. Once. Twice. A dozen more times. Each consecutive thrust is deeper than the previous one. It’s fast, sloppy, and wild, a dark and dirty fantasy coming to life.

  Voices float up from the courtyard. Cash places a hand over my mouth to quiet my moans, but he doesn’t slow down. Each thrust of his hips meets my ass with a muffled thump. I’m beyond debating the wisdom of this encounter. Every choice in my life has brought me to this moment. To him.

  “So freaking good,” he gasps in my ear.

  My orgasm rolls over me with unrivaled intensity. Shockwaves travel from my pussy to my toes and back up again. Cash’s hands squeeze my breasts. His harsh breathing echoes in my ears. I want it to go on forever, because once we’re done here, I’m going to war.

  Too soon he’s withdrawing, dealing with the condom, zipping up his pants. I tug my dress over my hips and try to calm my racing heart rate.

  He slips an arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest, my back to his front. “You were right. That pussy is something special,” he whispers, lips g
razing my ear. “I have to go, but I’ll come to your room when my meeting is over.”

  “No.” I can hardly believe my refusal. He just rocked my world with the best sex ever. I want more, but I need to maintain some kind of control over my situation.

  “No?” He chuckles. “Are you sure?”

  “You’re the enemy. I can’t fuck you then fight you.”

  “Why not?” He gently turns me around to face him. A mixture of humor and tenderness bows his lips, something I’ve never seen before. “Fighting you is half the fun.”

  “I’m serious. This—” I draw a circle in the air between us. “This can’t happen again.”

  Darkness passes over his face. “You forget who you’re dealing with. You don’t call the shots in this relationship. I do.”

  “We don’t have a relationship, remember? This is business.” With the edge of my finger, I wipe the outline of my lips to clean up any smudges of lipstick. I give a final tug to the hem of my dress and brush past him. “I’ve had a very long day. If you’ll excuse me.” Before I reach the door, he grabs my bicep and yanks me back to him. He’s strong and male. Despite having been inside me moments earlier, I want him again.

  “Wanna know why you didn’t have any sales today? Because no one moves anything in this industry without my say so. I hold all the power in this game, sweet thing.” His language slips back into his familiar slang. “The sooner you accept it, the better this is gonna go for you.” He gives me a little shake. “Go home, little girl. You ain’t ready to play with the big dogs.” In the dim light, he’s more sinister than ever. “I’ll be out of town for a bit. You’ve got thirty days to make your next payment. In full. No more games.”

  Thirteen

  Jagger

  When I return Baxter’s Corner, I relate the details of the trade show to Emeline over breakfast. Her eyes grow round as she slathers cream cheese on a bagel. “He’s jealous.”

  “What? No way.” I wave a dismissive hand through the air. “He’s just being a dick.”

  “I think it’s more than that, Jag.”

  “All I know is that I’m done with his head games. I’ll do whatever it takes to be rid of him.”

  “Well, actually, I’ve been thinking about that, and I have an idea.” Inspiration gleams in her eyes. “You know my friend, Loretta?”

  I nod. “The one with the cleaning company.”

  “Yes. That’s her.” She gets out of her chair and begins to pace, bagel in one hand, gesturing with the other. “She’s big time. Here in Indy, her customers live in those gorgeous million-dollar mansions around Carmel and Geist Reservoir.” People like Cash. “Not only that, she’s got satellite offices in Beverly Hills, Manhattan, Vegas, and a dozen more cities.” Enthusiasm gives her fair skin a pink glow. “Rich people, Jag. Basketball players, politicians, CEOs. The thing is, she’s successful but up to her eyeballs in debt. No liquid assets, and she needs cash.”

  I shove away the plate with my bagel, too anxious to eat. “I’m not sure what that has to do with me.”

  “She cleans houses, Jag. She has security codes and keys. Full access.” Her face flushes with excitement. “What if she gave you pictures of their jewelry? You could make up fakes. She could switch them. We sell the real stuff. You give the money to Cash.” She throws her hands up in the air. “It’s a win-win situation.”

  “I don’t know.” As crazy as it sounds, her idea has merit. “Do you trust this woman?”

  “Absolutely.” She cocks a hip and crosses her arms over her chest. “Admit it. It’s an awesome plan.”

  “What if we get caught?”

  “You weren’t worried about getting caught before.”

  “Of course I was. Not so much the first time, but after that—absolutely.” Despite my misgivings, I have to admit the idea excites me. A theft ring run by yours truly. Talk about leveling up. With the proper planning, we could be as rich as Cash. Maybe richer.

  Loretta comes to the house the next evening to discuss logistics. She’s a pretty, thirty-something blonde with downturned blue eyes and a slight limp. We gather around the kitchen table to look over client lists and schedules. Emeline makes Moscow mules and serves them in the copper mugs I gave her on our first Christmas together.

  “Yeah, it should be easy,” she confirms while tucking a curl behind her ear. “Most of these people aren’t good about locking away their jewelry. You wouldn’t believe how careless they are. It’s just a matter of opportunity.”

  “You’re taking a huge risk. You understand that, right?” I want to be sure there aren’t any misgivings on her part. “Once we start this, we’re all in. There’s no going back.”

  “I’m going through a divorce and my dick of an ex-husband wants alimony plus half of my business. Can you believe that? I built this company from the ground up while he went to college then law school. He hasn’t given me a dime since he left, but he has money to take his assistant to Paris. The kids need braces, and I’m about to lose my house. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” She rolls her lips together. “Of course, I expect to be compensated accordingly.”

  We work out a deal and make plans for our first job. The next day, Em purchases burner phones for the three of us. I make the five-hour drive to St. Louis in search of someone to turn our goods into cash. By the end of the week, I have photos for my next set of forgeries, a buyer for our merchandise, and a solid plan to evict Cash from my life.

  In the meantime, sales at Mercer’s continue to lag. At this rate, we won’t be able to cover payroll next month. Mr. Mercer’s health continues to decline, and I can’t bring myself to bother him with our problems. With a heavy heart, I make the difficult decision to cut back the store hours and liquidate some of the inventory. When the artists arrive to reclaim their consignment works, my simmering anger toward Cash ignites into a furious inferno. I was counting on at least a few sales from the trade show to bolster our finances through this rough patch. His meddling has put my future—and the futures of those who depend on me—in jeopardy.

  My world becomes a whirlwind of running the store, making forgeries, and plotting revenge against the tattooed devil. At night, I relive our tryst on the balcony while touching myself. My hatred mingles with desire in a combination more potent than anything I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know if I want to fuck him or kill him—maybe both. Not at the same time, because that would be creepy.

  At the end of the month, Loretta texts me on the burner phone. A downtown Indianapolis coffee shop is the location for our first drop. We carry identical tote bags. Mine carries cash for her payment. Hers holds the jewels. We make the swap beneath the table. To anyone watching, we’re just two friends catching up over espresso and muffins. After a chat about her kids and the latest celebrity gossip, she leaves. I drive to St. Louis and convert the stolen pieces to money. Although the conversion rate is less than I’d like, it’s a start.

  After two more jobs, I’ve got his payment in full. I send him a text. No answer. I keep texting because I’m eager for this charade to be over, yet he continues to ignore me. Another week passes, then two. I walk through the days on pins and needles, certain he’s going to show up when I least expect it.

  On Saturday evening, Emeline has a date with Tony, so it’s my turn to close up at the store. My nightly routine begins as usual. I go to the front, lock the door, turn the sign, and head back to my office. When I flip on the overhead light, he’s there, sitting behind my desk, sexy and smoldering in his jeans and hoodie. I gasp in surprise. The sight of him elicits conflicting emotions. My heart jumps into my throat while my panties dampen. I hate myself for letting him scare me. I hate myself more for wanting him anyway.

  “Where have you been?” I ask, not bothering to hide my irritation. “Please take your feet off my desk. Don’t you have any manners?”

  “The heat’s been on. Had to lay low for a while.” He removes his feet, letting them thump on the floor in exaggerated compliance, then leans forward, resti
ng his elbows on his thighs. “I figured you’d be grateful for the extra time.”

  “What do you mean by heat?” My heart continues to run a ragged race. I lean back against the wall and cross my arms over my chest to hide the telltale jut of my nipples against my blouse.

  “The feds, darlin’. They’ve been all over me for the past few weeks. You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?” He stands, a picture of easy grace and confidence, and stalks toward me.

  “No. Why would I?” With every stride closer to me, my resolve to end our physical relationship weakens. His lips are redder than usual, outlined by the thin strip of his moustache. I can’t help remembering how good his mouth felt on mine, the taste of peppermint on his tongue, the way he owned my body after a single kiss.

  His wide shoulders lift and drop in a casual shrug. “No idea. Never hurts to ask.”

  “Maybe you’ve been a little sloppy in your business. Can’t be too careful these days.” I can’t help but taunt him. Yanking his chain is the only form of retaliation available to me.

  “Yeah?” His stare locks onto my mouth. “And what would you know about that?” By now, his face is inches from my nose. I stare up at him, mesmerized by the strong lines of his features, the straight nose, and his square jaw with just the right amount of scruff on it. He braces a hand on the wall beside my head.

  I melt beneath the heat in his gaze. “Not a thing.”

  “So, you got my money, little girl?” He brushes the hair from my face, leaning in closer.

  I uncross my arms, let my hands fall to my sides, press my palms to the wall at my back, and wait. His nearness electrifies every nerve ending in my body. I’m acutely aware of the rise and fall of his chest and the intoxicating scent of his cologne. I swallow through the tightness in my throat before speaking. “Yes. It’s in the vault. Let me get it.”

  When he doesn’t move, I duck beneath his arm. Even though my back is to him, I can feel the burn of his gaze on my backside. I like having him watch me, knowing his full attention is mine and mine alone. My fingers shake as I twist the dial of the combination lock on the vault. I withdraw a duffel bag, close the door, and toss it on the floor in front of him. “It’s all there.”