by Sasha Spice
Love Me Tonight
Sasha Spice
Ellie Rowe Writes
Copyright © 2020 by Ellie Rowe
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
1. Rob
2. Stella
3. Rob
4. Stella
5. Rob
6. Stella
7. Rob
8. Stella
9. Rob
10. Stella
11. Rob
12. Stella
13. Rob
14. Stella
15. Rob
16. Stella
17. Rob
18. Stella
19. Rob
20. Stella
One
Rob
It seems like, most times, I wind up with a cab driver who wants to do nothing but talk. Boston is famous for its gab-addicted populace, but today I’m blessed with a guy who is keeping things relatively quiet, which feels like a blessing.
The last thing I feel like doing is hashing over the details of the job interview I just bombed with a guy who’s making chicken feed to drive drunks around. Okay, so maybe I didn’t absolutely tank the interview, but I can say now that there’s no way in hell I’m getting a call.
Folks in the business world have a hell of a time figuring out just how to fold military experience into civilian life. Shit, I’m grappling with that one myself. It would have been far more comfortable to walk in wearing my fatigues, instead of this stupid suit.
How the hell do people even move in these things, anyway? My collar has been trying to choke me from the second I buttoned it up.
And the tie? Forget it. Garotte, more like it.
“You see the socks last night, boss?”
Oh, shit. I spoke too soon.
“Nah, afraid I missed it.”
He starts cracking off about the game, and all I want to do is sink back into my seat and tune him out. I’ll be honest, I’ve never really given a shit about televised sports. If I’m not the one out there playing the game, I don’t see the point of getting all caught up in things.
Swinging a bat is one of the world’s great feelings, but sitting with a beer to watch another guy do it? Especially if he’s making millions of dollars to do the same shit my buddies and I do on a Saturday afternoon? No, thanks, I’m good.
“Hey, bang a left at the light up here, would ya?”
“Yeah,” he looks mildly annoyed that I’ve cut him off, but those are the breaks. “So, you wanna take Dorchester then?”
“Sure.” Honestly, I don’t care how we get back to my little pisser of an apartment. The fare’s gonna be about the same, regardless, so what difference does it make? So long as I put a lid on the chatter from up front, I’m good.
I don’t know why I’m in such a shitty mood, really.
It’s not like this is the first interview I’ve had this week that was shy of perfect. Given how things have been going since I got back from my last tour, it’s damn well tempting to re-up. At least there I knew what my days were gonna look like and what time my next meal was.
As we roll up to a red light, I can’t help looking out at my city. For as much as I missed it while I was in the Middle East, it all just seems so much smaller now. Cramped and dirty. Not only that, there’s not a surprise left in this place.
Suddenly, the door on the sidewalk side jerks open, and the sounds of the street rush in over me.
“Move over.” A pair of green eyes flash up at me from behind a generous toss of chestnut hair. “Please?” It’s added almost as an afterthought—somewhere between apology and seduction.
I unbuckle, and the woman clambers in beside me. With a slam and a lock, she turns her attention to the man in the front seat.
“Drive.”
“Excuse me, miss...?” He seems every bit as bewildered as I am by the arrival of this frantic bombshell.
She whirls to look out the rear window, and a cascade of hair snatches across my face. The smell of it alone is enough to make her welcome.
“Fucking drive! Please!”
With that, she hunkers low, almost putting her head fully in my lap. Reaching an arm up across the seat, I look back to see what’s got her so stirred up. I expect to see some undershirt-wearing boyfriend with a head of steam on, but I’m sorely mistaken.
There are three men in dark suits making a beeline directly for us. While I don’t see any guns, these are definitely the kind of guys who would have some.
“I think you’d better do what she says,” I say to the driver.
“But, the light.”
“Fuck the light if you want to live, brother. Drive!”
He must have stolen a look back himself, because the tires squeal and we lurch to the side. There are three cars between us and the turn, but he’s breaking around them and going for it. We grab a bit of curb as he dodges an old lady in the crosswalk, and we make off as fast as we can.
“Woah.” The dazzler sits back up and looks back hard, searching into the crowd for the guys who are doubtless still on her tail. Then, those emerald eyes cut back to me again, and a serious lump lodges in my throat.
“I suppose I really ought to thank you,” she says, a single eyebrow arched.
“Maybe. What the hell is going...”
Before I can finish the question, she kisses me hard. If that’s her idea of thanks, I’ll take it. This close, I get a full treatment to the fragrance she’s wearing, and it’s worth whatever she’s paying for it.
The kiss breaks, and she looks to the driver without even meeting my eyes. He’s doing a banner job of putting distance between us and the suits. Chances are I’m on the hook for a pretty substantial tip when this whole joyride is over.
“What’s your name?” I ask, and the brunette snaps her attention back to me.
“Are you really sure you want to know that?”
“I’ll risk it.” That sends off a spark behind her eyes, and I can see the sense of adventure mingling with the fear.
“Stella,” she says.
“Stella, I’m Rob.”
She looks through the rear window again, and with a gasp, ducks back down into my lap. I look back, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever trouble we’re gonna have to deal with. Whatever it is, I’m in it now.
Stella may have just dropped into my life from the clear blue sky, but she’s my problem now. And I’m gonna do what I can to keep her safe.
Two
Stella
I certainly didn’t get up this Tuesday morning planning to spend the afternoon being chased through Boston by some European assholes hellbent on taking me down. However, as I hide in the cab with my head in this strange guy’s lap, I figure there could be worse ways to pass the time.
“Why aren’t we moving?” I ask the cab’s ceiling. I’m trying to focus on the emergency of the moment, but I can’t help but notice I think my handsome co-rider is getting a hard-on.
The guy—Rob—glances down at me. He is decidedly rugged, with dark hair and brown eyes. I’m not really into men with beards, but I find I’d be happy to run my hands through the one he’s sporting over that chiseled jawline. I can imagine where I’d like those hairs tickling my skin…
Then I remember my life’s in danger. It’s the little things, y’know?
“Hey, cabbie? Can we go a little faster?” I ask, my eyes locked on Rob’s.
“There’s a lot of traffic up ahead,” the driver tells me.
r /> “Oh, yeah?” I sit up and press my face almost all the way up against the plastic divider between the front and back seats. “Well, there’s a whole lot of trouble right behind.”
The driver swears, but he starts weaving into the opposite lane to get around the unmoving cars in front of us.
“How’s it looking back there, handsome?” I ask Rob, my eyes glued to the road ahead.
“These guys are fast runners.”
“Hear that?” I mutter to the driver. “Catching up to you.”
“They’re catching up to you, lady,” he argues.
“I’ll be sure to tell them that when they drag your ass out of that driver’s seat and start beating the shit out of you.”
He swears again but steps on the gas.
I lean back, still ducking low in the seat. A little laugh of excitement escapes from between my lips and I glance over at Rob.
“Woohoo,” I cry, “now we’re talking.”
He just stares back at me. I can see a little of my lipstick still on his lips. That kiss had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. Now I’m trying to find an excuse to plant another one on him.
Just as I’m concocting a ruse, the cabbie slams on the breaks. I go flying forward and smash my shoulder against the front seat.
“What the hell are you doing?” I moan, trying to ignore the pain.
“Red light,” he whines.
“So?”
“And a lot of traffic coming the other way. You want to get away or you want to have an accident?”
Now it’s my turn to swear. I’m about to turn around and check out where my ‘friends’ are when I hear Rob give a shout of warning.
Next thing I know, the door on my side starts to pop open. The tallest and lankiest of the guys in suits who’ve been after me has caught up with us. I grab the inside handle of the door and try to find some leverage with which to resist his pull on the door.
“Little help?” I say over my shoulder to Rob.
He places his body right up against my back. I can feel the toned firmness of him beneath his suit. It arouses me, which in turn gives me more strength as I hold onto the door. Rob reaches his hands around my waist and his arms brush my breasts and he grabs the door handle along with me.
Turns out, arousal and fear are a potent cocktail. I could get addicted.
The lanky man starts reaching into the cab with one arm. He manages to grab my hair and starts to tug. It hurts like hell.
“Pull!” Rob calls out.
We give it all we’ve got and slam the door in. I hear a crunch as lanky’s arm gets caught in it. He immediately lets go and withdraws his arm. Rob and I slam the door all the way shut.
“Drive!” we shout simultaneously at the driver.
The cabbie lets out a terrified war cry and races through the crowded intersection. He gets us across, then immediately comes to a stop behind more traffic.
Don’t any of these people have better places to be? I wonder.
Suddenly, there’s banging on the windows and the trunk. The rest of the fuckers have caught up to us.
“You stand these guys up or something?” Rob asks me with a half-smirk on his face.
I give him a wink, then slide open the window in the plastic divider. I haul myself half-way through the opening. I’m fully aware that, in this position, my ass is right at Rob’s eye-level. I silently thank my personal trainer for forcing me to do all those squats.
“Hey, what the fuck, lady?” the cabbie squeals when he sees me suddenly beside him. His eyes are wide with panic. He stinks like fear-sweat.
I grab the steering wheel.
“When I say ‘go’, hit the gas and the breaks at the same time.”
“What?”
“Ready?”
The banging intensifies. It sounds like they’re about to break through the glass of the back windshield.
“Set?”
I hear Rob swear in the backseat and I feel the car rock side-to-side from the blows it’s receiving.
“Go!”
The cabbie lets out an ‘oh God’ as he slams the gas pedal to the floor and I simultaneously yank on the wheel. We do half a ‘donut’ to the sound of tires skidding along the road, kicking up smoke. I hear a thump that I’m pretty sure is the back of the cab knocking aside one of my attackers.
“Punch it!” I tell the cabbie at the end of our one-eighty.
He floors the pedal again. The sudden leap forward sends me flying backward. I tumble into Rob’s arms.
I can think of worse places to land.
We roll sideways together in the back seat as the cab swerves onto a side street, then screeches to a halt.
“Out! Out! Get out, dammit!” the cabbie screams.
I exchange a glance with Rob. His eyes reflect back the same thought that’s in mine: we’ve pushed this guy to his limit.
Rob opens the door on his side and gestures out.
“Ladies first.”
With a grin, I happily slide across his body and out onto the street. He joins me, barely getting his second foot out of the cab before it peals away.
Just as I get my bearings, all three of my pursuers finally catch up to us.
Three
Rob
I glance at the mysterious woman beside me, Stella, as she gathers her bearings. She looks up at me, smiles, and gives me a little, sexy wink. I grunt at that.
At least someone’s having fun. I guess things can’t get any worse.
My body stiffens when I hear faint footsteps growing louder by the second. I turn just in time to see the three men chasing Stella standing a few feet from us.
“Damn, those guys are fast,” Stella grumbles, taking a step back, half-hiding behind me.
I don’t know why, but her using me as a shield fills me with a kind of manly pride. Like she can smell the military service on me. Even if it’s only instinctive on her part, I’m keyed up by it.
The men glare at her before eyeing me warily. They look at each other for a second before the one in the middle takes a step forward. I stiffen my stance and ready myself just in case they attack.
“Look, buddy,” the middle guy, who I assume is the leader of the trio, pants. “We don’t want any trouble. Our fight isn’t with you. Just hand over the girl and we’ll walk away. No one has to get hurt.”
I stay silent, studying the three. All my instincts are clamoring inside of me, telling me that these people have bad news written all over them. Luckily, I’ve read that news before.
The one in the middle mistakes my silence as an agreement, and marches forward. He reaches for Stella, but she lets out a squeak of alarm and ducks back. Hearing that distress in her kicks my body into gear.
In a flash, my fist smashes into the man’s cheek. I hear the bone crunch and it starts to get good to me, so I lift a leg and plant a swift, hard kick on the man’s chest. He flies back and nearly knocks his buddies over.
The two only glance at him once before growling and charging at me.
And I let it all loose.
My army training and the hours I forced myself to spend in the gym after retiring are paying off. I forget how invigorating a good, old fight can feel. Sparring just doesn’t cut it anymore.
Though I like a good fight, I doubt these fellas have no idea what they’re getting into. Tough is tough, but ex-military is always tougher. They may be easy to handle, but I know that the odds will be against me if weapons are involved.
Thankfully, no guns come into play. Probably because we’re on the sidewalk and a ton of cars are passing by. Add to that the fact the sun is still shining down and others can clearly see us fighting.
These kinds of people don’t want to attract too much attention. They want to avoid questions, but I think it’s already too little, too late. They attracted plenty of attention when they chased our cab. So, for now, it’s all bloody noses and flying teeth. Not one of them is mine.
“Fist at three o’clock!” Stella yells behind me.
> I turn and block the fist with my hand, twisting the bastard’s arm behind his back and listening for the crunch. When it comes, I let him go and sweep his feet. He falls like a bag of trash and cries out in pain as I stomp my foot on his back to keep him down.
“One idiot behind you!” Stella warns.
Using the downed guy as a step, I kick back and nail one of the men charging up behind me. Then, Stella shrieks in alarm. I snap around to see what’s what.
“Don’t you fucking dare put those dirty, grubby hands on me!”
One glance in her direction and my rage boils hot. The third guy is already on her, holding her hands behind her back, restraining her as she struggles to free herself from him. I have to get the two of us out of here.
Kicking ass is one thing, but I can’t let her get hurt. Besides, we’re drawing a bit of a crowd, and that means only one thing. It won’t be long before the cops come to investigate. Not only that, but these three goons might have already even called for backup.
I turn just in time to catch a fist on my ribs and a kick to my stomach. It stings like a motherfucker, but my desire to save Stella and get the hell out of here spurs me into a frenzy.
Before I can take another hit, I lean to the side and catch the second guy’s arm. With a roar, I lift my knee and break his arm in two. He howls in pain but I don’t care. Fuck him.
I pull on his injured arm and slam him on top of his downed companion before making a beeline toward Stella and her captor. The man’s eyes are wide with fear after seeing how I handled his buddies.
He immediately lets go of her as I get close, raising his hands in surrender. “No, please, I’m new! I didn’t know they were into this kind of thing. Take the girl and I’ll leave. Just, please, don’t hurt me!”