Sweet Release (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) (10 page)

I bit my lip to keep from smiling too much. Already I felt a little better. No less murderous toward a police officer, but definitely overall less stressed for the moment. “Okay,” I said. “Yes. That would be nice.”

Mike grinned and looked for a second like he might try and kiss me. I stood perfectly still while he did, until he seemed to catch himself.

So I leaned forward, and got up on my toes, and pecked his cheek. Let everyone watch. “I’ll see you after work,” I said. I pointed to the doors. “Right over there.”

Michael

Ella eyed me up when I came out of the back stairwell, changed into a pair of jeans and a black button up with the sleeves rolled. I wasn’t the kind of guy that wore ties; I’d looked a couple but didn’t have the first clue how to tie one anyway so it didn’t seem worth it. I’d thought about shoes, too, but I did a few kicks in six or seven pairs and decided they weren’t made for fighting in. Maybe that wouldn’t matter, but if it did I didn’t want to fall on my ass. So, my one pair of sneakers was fine for me.

She gave me a lopsided grin, and looked past me when I met her at the doors to the gym. “Wow. Who are you? I’m meeting someone, so…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Laugh it up. I can change back into my sweaty gym clothes if you want, you know.”

Ella smiled at me, the sort of smile that made me think maybe she was already planning on how to get all these clothes off me. Tony wasn’t always right, but when he was, he was. “This’ll do,” she said. “But, if you’re going out in real clothes, then so am I. So, we’ll need to swing by my place first.” She winked.

We left, and walked the six blocks to her place. The building was a little run down, the sort of place that now I knew she was living here, I didn’t like it. But, I kept that to myself. At some point, I needed to get this girl on the mat and see what she was really made of. She didn’t seem to care about the neighborhood, but I knew exactly the sort of shit that went down in this place. The bad kind; especially to girls like Ella.

Well, maybe not just like her. I doubted there were any others like here in about a hundred miles.

“Sorry my place is a mess,” she said as she pushed through her apartment’s door. “I don’t have company, usually.”

Maybe she was some kind of OCD. The place looked clean enough to me, but then what did I know? My place had a couch, a bed, and an old TV I pulled out of a dumpster on top of a crate I got in the dumpster the next block over. I’d saved just about everything I made at the gym. Being in a cell for four years sort of cuts back a man’s need to have a lot of stuff.

“Yeah,” I snorted, looking around, “this place is a mess.”

She shot me a look, and rolled her eyes at my tone. “Okay, smart ass. Sit. Want anything to drink?”

“I’m alright,” I told her, but she brought me a glass of water anyway.

“I’ve got to shower off and change,” she said. “I’ll just be a minute. I promise, I’m not one of those girls with all the shit on their faces.”

I laughed a little at that, and nodded. “Okay.”

She checked me for a reaction, clear as day.

“I don’t mind waiting; with or without shit on your face,” I assured her.

Ella knit her eyebrows together, but didn’t comment. I needed maybe a little coaching on how to talk to a lady, but couldn’t bring myself to apologize for it. Frankly, if she was the kind of girl I was gonna have to walk on eggshells with, this was a bad idea anyway. My feet were way too heavy for eggshells.

But the corner of her lips curled up as she turned, and I saw her bite her lip. Duly noted.

There wasn’t much to see here as she went to her bedroom. It was small, but bigger than my place and a luxury townhome compared to a prison cell. Everything looked wide open to me these days. She had a bookshelf with some books. A girl that likes to read, I thought; but on closer inspection most of them were text books. There were a few books on martial arts as well—technique, history, a few on ‘martial arts of whatever country’. China, Indonesia, Thailand, Japan. I pulled out one and flipped through it idly, smiling at my luck.

From the bookcase, I caught a bit of movement in the corner of my eye. When I looked, I saw Ella’s door cracked a little, and through it a mirror.

First, I looked back at the book, watching the words but not really reading ‘em, just keeping my eyes occupied with something else. But… it was real hard not to look up, and I kept glancing.

Ella had peeled off her workout gear, and her sports bra. There was a long, raised scar over her left shoulder, stretching all the way down to the middle of her back. I wondered if that was courtesy of this Robert guy at the same time I wondered where he lived, and if Tony could find him.

She was muscle, this girl. Her skin was just a little darker everywhere except that X where her sports bra had been. She ran, I figured. Hips, though, she had. I knew that already. She wore clothes that were loose enough to move in but tight enough tell.

Seeing her like that, though, was enough to make my pants tight. She bent to pull her black panties down, and I turned away from the view. What kind of a creep watches a girl undress like that? I checked over my shoulder to make sure she was out of sight and the danger was past.

Now, I needed that water. My mouth was dry. I had to adjust myself; now he was thinking about getting some, he wouldn’t shut up about it.

Water ran through pipes I could see running along the rafters in the ceiling, and after less time than I expected it stopped. Ella rummaged around in there, and came out, like she said, dressed simply and with no shit on her face. She was a little pink from the shower.

“All set,” she said.

Her hair was still a little damp, but it didn’t make her look less sexy in that tight v-neck tee shirt and khaki pants that stopped about mid-calf. The only sign she was dressed up, really, were the sandal’s she wore that had some kind of complicated white leather wraps involved. They were flat, though; practical. The kinda shoes you could fight in. I wondered if she even owned a pair of heels.

This was a woman who was ready to throw down, all the time. For a second, I wanted to tussle with her, see who’d win; though, I think if we did, we’d both win.

She grinned at me. “Thinking you’d rather stay in?”

Yeah, I was. But my stomach growled, and Ella giggled. “I take it that means we’re eating,” she said.

“We should,” I said. “I got all dressed up.”

Her laugh was honest. I think that’s what I liked so much about it. And the way her eyes squinched up and her little nose wrinkled. “Well, since you went to all the trouble,” she said, “let’s hit the streets, mister.”

We walked down to a strip where there were a couple restaurants and diners. It was the longest walk we’d taken together, and it was enlightening. Ella had this way of carrying herself, straight backed and confident, at ease either because she was with me or because she just didn’t think the world was dangerous to her. With a scar like that on her back, maybe it wasn’t. I wanted to ask but kept reminding myself that an injury like that probably came with baggage she didn’t want to air out.

Besides, we were having too much fun talking about other stuff.

“So were you like, somebody’s bitch in prison?” She asked. She winked, and nudged me with an elbow in the side.

“Uh, no,” I said.

“Did you have a prison bitch, then?”

I laughed. “No. You gotta be like, mighty aryan brotherhood to get a prison bitch. It’s kinda like having a housekeeper.”

She laughed at that. “Oh, okay. Only the affluent convicts have them. I see.”

“Basically,” I said. “I was like a upper-lower-class convict, so, you know, I didn’t have to be a prison bitch but I couldn’t quite afford one myself.”

“Had to clean house yourself?” She waggled an eyebrow at me.

“You know I cleaned my house less often in prison than I have since I first hit puberty,” I said. “No privacy, anywhere. Plus, it’s technically against the rules.”

She pursed her lips. “We are talking about, you know…” she performed the universal sign for jacking off.

“Uh, yeah,” I said. I felt a little heat in my face, and resisted the urge to look around to see if anyone saw her. Not that I really cared.

“I bet women’s prison is way more fun,” she said. “I mean, comparatively speaking.”

“If I’d had the choice to go to women’s prison,” I said, “believe me I’d have taken it.”

“Think so?” She wondered. “I bet those ladies would eat you alive. Nothing but bones left.”

“You’re probably right. How about this place?” I pointed up at the sign to a pasta house.

Ella looked up, saw it, and laughed a little. “I’m all for pasta. Lots of carbs though.”

“We could hit the gym afterward,” I said. “See if you’re all talk.”

“If I’m all talk,” she repeated. She folded her arms and appraised me. “Okay. I see how it is.”

“I mean, not that I don’t believe you,” I told her. “Just, you know, I haven’t seen any evidence is all.”

“Alright, buddy,” she said, “you’re on. Tonight, after dinner; you, me, and a ring.”

I held up both hands. “Hey, whoa—slow down, lady. It’s only our second date.”

Ella groaned, and slugged me in the shoulder, playful like. “Oh my God, Mike; don’t be a baby. You’re afraid of commitment or something?”

The look on my face must have said I thought, for a second, she might be serious, because she burst out laughing and poked my in the stomach with a finger.

“Chill, big guy,” she chuckled.

Dinner got a little more serious. For one thing, she told me about Pembry.

“You shoulda told Jarome,” I said. “I’ll fill him in tomorrow. That bullshit about him holding you is just that—it’d be his job, he’s not gonna tank it just for that.”

“I know,” Ella said. She jabbed a chunk of steak drenched in a thick alfredo sauce—this girl ate—and looked like she was thinking of something else when she did. “But you don’t have to stick up for me. I can handle it.”

I smiled at her, thinking about seeing her tie Pembry up on knots.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’ll let you handle it if you want. But I know Pembry. If you want me to help, I will.”

“Yeah,” she said, “because that’s what I need, is for Pembry to lock you up for assault or intimidation or some other bullshit charge.”

“Would that bother you? If he did, I mean?” I asked.

Ella gave me a flat look that turned into a slow, slight grin. “Well… I mean I wouldn’t get to watch you get whooped by Jarome every day. And it is the highlight of my job there.”

“Whooped!” I barked. “Jarome don’t whoop me.”

“I beg to differ.” She popped a hunk of steak and pasta into her mouth, and waved her fork at me as she chewed and swallowed it. “Your grappling game is pretty bad. And you’re learning from a boxer.”

“You can do better, I take it.”

Ella thumbed her nose. “I could teach you; maybe. You sure that cup’s empty?”

I laughed. Richard had said almost the same thing, part of his whole wandering Chinese monk thing he did. “I can pour a little out,” I said. “You keep saying you’ll show me all these moves, but I haven’t seen anything just yet. For all I know, you’re all talk.”

Ella’s eyes went wide as she heard the challenge. She wiped her mouth, folded her napkin, and set it to the side of her plate. Then she rested her elbows on the table and cracked her knuckles. “Alright, big guy. Finish up. Let’s go ahead and settle this ASAP.”