In Your Corner (12 page)

Immediately, I put a hand up, shielding my face. “What are they doing here? What if they see us?”

Ray shakes his head and huffs a breath through his nose. “Our booth is situated outside their line of vision. Restroom is behind them. No chance they’ll see us unless they have some reason to walk this way. Keep your menu in case they do. They’re meeting someone and I want you to see him in person. I knew the meet would be here since they come to this restaurant for lunch every Thursday.”

“I only just gave you the Farnsworth case. How do you know they come here every Thursday?”

Ray lifts an eyebrow. Thus chastised, I slump back in my seat. “Okay. You’re amazing. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Finally I get a smile. “Never one to turn down a compliment.”

The waitress arrives to take our order, and after she leaves, Ray gives me a rundown on where he is with my cases. While he’s talking, I glance over at Evil Reid and Farnsworth laughing together and a pang of regret tightens my gut. Did I really ever have a chance at partnership when Evil Reid and Farnsworth are so tight? Maybe all those years I was working hard, I should have been playing the game. Making friends. Sleeping with the enemy…or enemies.

“So who is this guy you want me to see?” I drum my fingers on the table beside the bread basket which I am NOT going to indulge in today. No bread. Bad bread. Carbs and Amanda don’t mix.

Ray covers my hand with his own, forcing my fingers to still. “He’s not a good guy. You ever see him, you call me ASAP. You do NOT pull shit like you did at Hunter’s Point.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I sense you’re a little annoyed about last night.”

Ray leans across the table. “I was fucking out of my mind and that’s sayin’ something. I’m a pretty relaxed kinda guy. I don’t interfere in people’s lives. But you and Pen, all sweet and innocent, traipsing around Hunter’s Point dressed the way you were dressed…”

“I’m touched by your concern,” I say dryly. “However—”

“You need help, you ask for it.” Ray cuts me off with a growl. “Big problem of yours, not being able to ask for help. Get over it.”

“Um…thanks for the advice. You’ll be pleased to know Jake agrees with you.” My voice is tight with sarcasm, but if Ray even notices, he gives no sign.

“Don’t mention it.”

The waitress arrives with our pizzas, but before I can dig into the mouthwatering feast in front of me, Ray grabs a menu and holds it up at the edge of the table.

Instinctively, I duck down behind it. “What? What is it? Are they coming?”

He shakes his head. “Short, skinny Italian dude in the red shirt. Gold chains around his neck. Whole lotta trouble going on there.”

“He looks like he’s in the mafia,” I whisper as I peer over the menu.

“He is.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Seriously?”

“No.”

“No?”

Ray snorts a laugh. “Name’s Eugene Clements. PI. Farnsworth hired him to replace me.”

I press my lips together and glare. “Funny, Ray. Very funny.”

“It was funny.” He treats me to a rare Ray smile. “Shoulda seen your face. Sheet white.”

My lips quiver with a repressed smile. “So why did I never know about your sense of humor before?”

Ray’s smile fades. “Nothin’ funny about Farnsworth & Tillman. Your firm, however, amusing as hell.”

Evil Reid pulls a blue file folder from his briefcase with a picture attached and hands it to Eugene. Even from this distance I can recognize my firm PR shot. My heart stutters in my chest.

“Omigod, Ray. That’s a picture of me.” My voice rises above the din. “That file is about me!”

Ray’s hand grips my wrist with what feels like an iron claw and he pulls me across the table. “Discretion. Name of the game.”

“Okay.”

“Silence. Also the name of the game.”

“Okay.”

He releases my wrist and nods to my pizza. “You can eat now.”

“I’ve lost my appetite. It creeps me out thinking someone is watching me.”

A curious expression crosses Ray’s face. Regret? Distaste? Consternation? But before I can figure it out, it’s gone.

Ray devours his pizza while I toy with what could have been a delightful feast, and the next five minutes pass in silence. Farnsworth and Evil Reid leave the café but Ray still doesn’t speak. For some reason, this scares me more than anything, and I struggle to find a topic to divert our attention.

“Ray, can I ask you a question?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“’Cause when a woman asks if she can ask a question, then she’s wantin’ to ask a question no man wants to answer. If it was just a normal question, you would have asked it. Normally.”

“Okay.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes and then Ray sighs.

“What was the question?”

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s not important.”

“Question. Now.” He barks the commands like a drill sergeant. Maybe in a past life he was a drill sergeant or maybe it was a past life within this life, like before he became a PI, which would explain the commando clothes and attitude.

“Um…well…if you were a guy…”

“I am a guy.”

I give Ray a nasty glance and continue. “As a guy, if a woman said to you she wanted you, meaning she wanted to have sex with you, and she said she wanted it right then, and every time you were together, she pretty much shouted it in your face, but each time you just teased her and walked away, would you expect her to keep waiting? Or would that mean you weren’t really serious and you were just having fun with her? Or would it mean you were serious but you wanted to wait? And if you wanted to wait, why would you want to wait, because it’s not like you hadn’t had sex before?”

“Christ.” He shakes his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Well?” I hold my breath as I wait for Ray, of all people, to give me relationship advice.

“Wouldn’t wait.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Not for any reason?”

“Woman’s in the mood, that’s the time to do it. And if it was my woman, to hell with everything else. She wants it. She gets it. Done.”

“You don’t need some time to think about it?” My voice rises to a squeak.

Ray gives me a wry smile. “Stats say a man thinks about sex about twenty times a day. Man like me, more. When it comes available, a man does
not
turn it down. Especially if it’s his woman. A real man looks after his woman. You get me?”

“Yeah.” I heave a sigh. “I get you. I also get you’ve got some caveman blood still lurking in there somewhere.”

Ray lifts an eyebrow and tightens his jaw. “That said, it’s not just about sex.”

“You’ve just told me you think about sex more than twenty times a day and you’ll sleep with any woman who’s in the mood. How can you tell me it’s not just about sex?”

“Sex is sex. Relationships are something else.”

“I’ve never been good at relationships.” I stare at the table, toying with my fork. “Sex has always been my marker as to whether a guy likes me or not. But relationships scare me. You let people get close, and invariably they let you down. I’ve been hurt so many times, I just can’t be that open or give myself to anyone that way.”

“Fucked up.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

Ray chuckles. “Not you. I meant a man doesn’t turn down a woman like you without a damn good reason.”

My mouth curls into a half smile. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple.”

“Maybe for you.” I give him a full smile. “Thanks for answering the question.”

“Pleasure. This mean you’ll change out the couch?”

Change out the couch? Take out my stiff blue corporate boys and replace them with an old Victorian madam, torn and worn in more ways than one? Not very professional. Not very Farnsworth & Tillman. But then, neither was this lunch, or having employees work for free, one of whom lives on my couch, or running a law firm out of a partially renovated, soon-to-be historical landmark. Maybe I could be a little bit flexible.

Biting my lip, I nod. “Okay. As compensation for going out of your way to needlessly protect me last night and bringing to my attention that I am going to be followed by a man who may or may not be in the mafia, and answering my convoluted question, you can have your couch.”

“And Penny’s screensaver?”

“You’re pushing it, Ray.”

He gives me a cheeky grin. “Only pushing ’cause I know you’re a pushover.”

“You wish.”

He flags down the waitress and his smile broadens. “I don’t make wishes, sweetheart. If I want something, I go for it and to hell with the consequences. If you sit around waiting for things to happen, life will pass you by.”

“Simple.”

Ray gives me a curt nod. “That it is.”

IS MY SURPRISE UNDER HERE?

“Welcome to Metal Hell.”

After handing our tickets to the heavyset bouncer with the ZZ-Top beard, Penny, Shayla, and I file through the narrow doorway and into the dilapidated warehouse-cum-concert venue that is the site of one of the most anticipated underground death metal events of the year. I catch a whiff of piss, pot, unwashed bodies, and stale beer all wrapped up in a nausea-inducing olfactory package. The dark, dank club is as far from heaven as one can get.

“Love death metal. Whoo. Go Slugs.” Penny pumps her fist in the air and screams as we push our way through the crowd.

Shocked at her outburst, I clamp my hand around her arm. “What happened to your British reserve?”

“Reserve goes out the window when British people cut loose, and after our little warm-up party in the office, I’m looser than a hooker’s…”

“We get it.” Shayla cuts her off with a glare.

Penny shoots Shayla an evil look. “Have you seen the lead singer? He totally has the British rocker thing going. I know you Americans don’t go for the Rolling Stones type, but to me, he is fit. That’s how we say hot in England.” She joins the crowd in a loud chant. “Slugs. Slugs. Slugs.”

We push our way through the crowd and I scan the area for Jake. I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off two nights ago except for the brief five minutes he spent at my office to hand over the tickets. A peck on the cheek, a casual “see you at seven,” and a throwaway “remember, don’t wear panties,” and he was out the door. Penny immediately set about dousing my fire by opening a bottle of white wine. Now, I realize what a mistake that was.

Shayla tries to shush Penny again, and for a moment I worry she’s going to lose her patience, but suddenly she pulls up short and grabs my arm. “There’s Fuzz. Over by the speaker with Jake.”

She waves her hand in the air and catches Fuzzy’s attention.

“He’s coming.” She turns to me. “How do I look? Girly enough?”

My eyes drift over her cargo pants, kicks, and death metal shirt emblazoned with a flaming skull. “Nice. But maybe take out the ponytail.”

With a sigh, Shayla pulls out her ponytail holder and shakes her head. “How’s this?”

“You still look like you’re a commando at a death metal concert,” Penny says. “Not so good for picking up guys.”

“And you look like you’re clubbing on someone’s yacht.” Shayla gives a disdainful sniff at Penny’s white skirt, matching kitten heels, and gold tank. “I don’t do that kind of girly anymore. I packed it all away when I hung up my tutu and started on the ’roids. Didn’t last long on those. Messed me up pretty bad.”

Penny’s eyes widen. “You were taking steroids? I’ve always wanted to try them, bulk up a bit. How did they work out for you?”

“Who’s taking ’roids?” Fuzzy says as he and Jake join us. I make the introductions and Shayla shoots us a pleading glance. If anyone found out she had taken steroids, she could lose her fight license.

“Me,” a quick-thinking Penny says brightly.

Fuzzy stares down at her curvy, five-foot-four-inch frame that, according to Penny, has never seen a gym, and gives her an incredulous look. “You’re taking ’roids?”

“That’s right.” She flexes her soft, pasty arms. “Lookit these pythons. ’Roids all the way.”

Shayla bursts into laughter. Not just a giggle or a chuckle or even a guffaw. Real, uncontrollable, straight-from-the-belly, tears-pouring-down-your-cheeks laughter.

Fuzzy’s gaze cuts to her. His eyes linger over her soft, chestnut waves. He smiles. Then his smile fades into a frown.

“Christ,” he mutters. “Almost didn’t recognize you there, Shill. Did you wash your hair?” He gives her a friendly thump on the back and her laughter dries up with a choke.

Jake’s arms slide around me and he pulls me back into his chest. “Your idea,” he whispers in my ear, gesturing toward Shayla.

“No, she pulled out her ponytail holder all on her own.”

Jake laughs. “Nice try.”

“I thought you were angry with me for trying to seduce you.” I look back over my shoulder and he rests his cheek against my forehead. “Except for the tickets, I haven’t heard from you in two days.”

“I didn’t hear from you for two days either.”

“This is true, but I have an excuse. I’m insanely busy at work. My witness gave me a list of women who may also have been harassed by Farnsworth, and I’ve already got another interview lined up. You’ll be pleased to know Ray has checked the addresses and marked the interviews he wishes to attend in the guise of a guard dog.”

“I’m pleased.” Jake’s hands slide down over my abdomen, his fingers resting in a V just over my mound. “And I’ll be more pleased if you followed my instructions.” His breath is hot and moist in my ear and a delicious shiver of anticipation winds its way up my spine. After only a few hours without my panties, I’m already so wet I’m afraid my arousal will trickle down my inner thigh. Not that I would tell him.

“Why would I follow your instructions when you made it clear you have…limits? Maybe I’m not up for another tickle and tease.”

He tightens his arms and presses his lips against my ear. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you tonight.”

My body heats. “Well in that case, I have a surprise for you.”

Taking a quick glance around, he slides his hand between us and surreptitiously lifts my skirt to fondle my bare ass. “Is my surprise under here?”

“Beast.” I slap his hand away. “You’ll have to wait.”

A ripple of excitement runs through the crowd as the warm-up band hits the stage. The lead guitarist grabs his guitar and the first few notes of a death metal guitar riff fill the room.

“Eeeeeee!” shrieks Penny. “It’s the warm-up band. I want to be up front.” She holds her hands together like a battering ram and shoves her way forward through the thicket of long, stringy hair, faded jeans, tattoos, and piercings.

“C’mon, Shill,” Fuzzy mutters. “We’d better get her. She’s so tiny, she’ll get crushed.”

With a defeated sigh, Shayla follows Fuzzy through the crowd.

Jake nuzzles my neck. “You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

A few minutes later, we’re pressed up against the bar, a temporary wooden structure that looks like it could collapse at any moment. If not for Jake’s strength and determination, we would never have made it through the crowd. Even now he has one hand braced against the counter and his back to the heaving mass of people to give us breathing room.

The bartender shoves two cups of beer—the only item on offer—in our direction and I wrinkle my nose.

Jake laughs. “Still not a fan?”

“Not really. Especially if it’s warm, which I’m guessing it is.” I dip my finger in the cup and pop it in my mouth. The beer is indeed warm and very bitter, but the heat in Jake’s eyes as I slide my lips over my finger makes it easy to swallow.

“Again.” His voice is husky and filled with sensual promise.

“You like that?”

“Yeah, baby, I do.” His hand tangles in my hair and he yanks my head back so hard my eyes tear. With his other hand around my waist, he pulls me tight against his body. I sense a shift in the crowd around us, and then people surge toward the stage, leaving us alone at the bar.

“You drive me fucking crazy.” With a nip, he parts my lips, and his tongue sweeps inside, searching, possessing, teasing, until my knees tremble and my body turns liquid.

“Remember that night we met?” he murmurs against my lips. “We fucked against one mirror and watched ourselves in the other and you told me it was how you imagined it would feel to have sex in a crowd?”

“That was a good night.”

“The night I met you was the best night of my life.”

Before I can respond, he deepens the kiss. Our tongues tangle, teeth clash, lips bruise. Lust, raw and ragged, tears through me, and I can only cling to his shoulders and hold on for the ride.

“We’re gonna do it now.” His voice deepens to a growl. “We’re gonna make that fantasy come true.”

“Maybe not here.” But a few minutes and multiple shoves of angry fans later, we are in the shadowed alcove leading to the equipment room. Doors in back. Walls on the sides. And an entire warehouse of screaming fans in front of us. If the band could see past the glare of spotlights, they would have a front row seat to what’s about to go down, and if anyone turns around and takes more than a casual glance, they would be able to see us too.

Jake presses me up against the doors, his broad back hiding me from view. He slides his hand under my T-shirt and his thumb brushes over my nipple, already peaked and aching under my bra. Lightning zings straight to my core and I gasp into his mouth.

“Been thinking about your breasts all day and how I didn’t give them proper attention.” His hands ease up my shirt and he shoves up my bra.

“Jake…” But my protest comes too late. My breasts tumble free into his waiting palms.

A fresh burst of energy hits the crowd as the band starts a new song. The warehouse pulses and throbs with the first roll of the drum. The venue must be over capacity, because even at the back, there is little room to move. Not that I want to move. Plastered against Jake’s body so tight I can feel the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the steel of his erection pressed against my abdomen, suddenly there is nowhere else I want to be.

He releases me with a low groan and then his hands trace my curves, over my hips, down to the edge of my skirt. Easing it up ever so gently, he traces lazy circles up my inner thigh. “I wanna hear you scream, baby.”

“How about your surprise first?” I slide his hand to the front and draw it up under my skirt.

Jake sucks in a sharp breath as he strokes his finger over the fuzz-free curve of my sex. “Bare. For me.”

“For you.”

He gives me a devilish smile, all crinkled eyes and rakish charm, and rests one forearm on the wall beside my head while his other hand explores, his fingers spreading my folds, easing my legs apart. “Open for me.”

A naughty thrill of sensation floods my body and I inch my legs apart. “When you talk like that…say things like that…it makes me so wet.”

“I know.” He dips his fingers between my thighs and spreads my wetness up and around my clit, tearing a moan from my throat.

“And I know you’ll like this even more.” He kicks my legs farther apart and glides his fingers along my wet folds, parting them, exposing my hidden depths. My brain fuzzes at the intimate touch while around us the crowd roars.

“Oh God. You’re right.” I slide my hands over his shoulders and thread my fingers through his soft, silky hair.

He eases one finger into my center, swollen and throbbing, and I almost come right then. My body stiffens then arches toward him, my fingers gripping his shoulders so hard I’m sure I’ll leave bruises. But I can’t deny the delicious thrill of his touch where the risk of being seen is so high, the danger so great, and the pleasure so intense.

“I want to hear you.” He withdraws his finger then thrusts it in again, deeper this time. “I want you to come all over my hand. I want you to scream because I made you scream and you wanted me to do it.”

Coiled tight, I rock my hips against his palm, seeking just the barest touch on my swollen nub to send me over the edge, but he keeps just out of reach, leaving me to grind against his fingers until I am ready to scream with frustration.

Jake gives a satisfied growl. “You like fucking my fingers, knowing any moment someone might turn and see what a dirty girl you really are.”

“Yes.” My head drops against the wall, my body trembling.

He rubs his fingers along my inner walls, pushing deep, deeper than I imagined fingers could go. My tension builds, but every time I near my peak, he slows his pace until I’m squirming and whimpering and begging for release. My hands are no longer gentle in his hair. Instead they are claws, dug into his shoulders so deep nothing could pry them away.

“You’re tight, baby. So damn tight. I want so bad to be inside you.”

His erotic words shoot me right to the edge. Stiffening, gripping him, my body burning, I whisper, “Make me come.”

He presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “You’ll come when I want you to come.”

My brain fuzzes and my sex clenches around him. Jake kisses me softly, gently while his fingers pump hard and deep and fast inside me, an overwhelming dichotomy of sensation. I don’t know whether I should cry or moan or whimper or shout or beg. All I know is my body is coiled tight, tighter than it’s ever been, and the need for release is so strong it borders on pain.

“Do it now. I can’t take any more.” I whimper, unable to control the desperate rock of my hips as he withdraws his fingers yet again.

“Not yet.”

My lust-soaked brain tries to process his words. Why am I not coming when I want to come? Why am I playing this game? But the answer comes in a heartbeat. Somewhere deep inside I wanted this. And I knew what the game was going to be the minute I took off my panties.

The next three minutes are the longest of my life. Jake brings me up and takes me down. A flick of his thumb over my throbbing clit, the stroke of his finger over my swollen inner tissue, a hand squeezing my breasts, and even a breathtaking moment when he bares one breast for his nipping pleasure. The band plays. The bass pounds. Moisture floods my sex, trickling down my thighs. Excitement and fear thunder through my veins. The fans cheer and stomp their feet. But nothing is as loud as the rush of blood through my veins or the rasp of Jake’s breath in my ear, and nothing has ever consumed me so absolutely and totally as the almost painful, overwhelming need to orgasm.

“Jake…please.”

“You’re doing so well, baby. Breathe through it. Give it up to me.” He slicks my moisture up and around my clit, so close but never close enough, bringing me down again from the peak I almost reached seconds ago. I tighten, gripping him, my body getting wetter, hotter, clenching around his fingers, and he continues to torture and tease.

The band finally segues into a new tune. My pleas become whimpers. Jake whispers encouragement in my ear. He tells me he knows it hurts, but it will be worth it in the end. He tells me to let go, to trust him to take care of me. Never have I been so completely at a man’s mercy. Never have I been so out of my mind with lust I don’t care.