8. DANYA

Before any major job I did, I'd always masturbate first to let out some steam. Before I went to confront Sutton in his apartment, I'd come like a fountain. Sex was constantly on my mind. And if I managed to cum before something, I could stay focused for longer.

Sutton wanted a shower after sex. I wasn't letting him do that alone. I didn't know if he was planning on trying to escape out of the bathroom window or wherever the closest fire escape was in the apartment.

I climbed into the shower with him.

"You didn't have to," he said. "You didn't get any cum on you."

"I need to keep an eye on you," I scoffed. "No chance. And you're not using my good soaps."

Sutton snatched at a soap from the tray on the wall. "You think this is good soap. I've stayed in some of the nicest hotels. I've felt good soap. I've smelled like it. And this is probably mediocre."

I glared. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked, rubbing the bar of soap on his stomach.

"Confrontation. Sass. All the time. I thought it was an act. I like bratty boys, but maybe not all the time bratty," I grumbled, my upper lip turning into a snarl.

He turned away, facing the shower head. "Can you get my back?" he asked, passing me the soap.

I washed his back for him. It wasn't something I'd ever done before. I'd slept with many guys. None of them accused of stealing millions from my family. None of them ever staying long enough to use the shower either.

"Since you've got the brains, tell me, what's next?"

He was quiet. I must've hit a nerve with what I'd said about his character. He turned back to me, a big, forced smile on his face. "Next, we make a list of people who hate me, and a list of people who have the skills to take millions from your family's bank account."

"Is it a big list?" I asked.

His eyes dipped to my cock and then to my eyes. "I'd say fairly big." He pressed his lips together into a thin, precious smile. "But whoever it is must be close. And potentially want me dead. That list is much shorter."

With the soap in my hands, I grabbed his soft cock. "Shorter," I chuckled.

"That was a one-time thing," he said.

"What?" I snickered. "I'm getting you clean. Now turn around. I made a mess of your ass. But I worry if I put this soap close to your hole, it'll get swallowed inside."

He smacked a hand against my chest. "You're a comedian."

"No, I'm Danya."

Clicking his tongue, he rolled his eyes. "You can stop," he said. "I'm also thinking I could try and get a tap put on the unknown number that contacted the both of us to see where it came from. But if it's anyone with a good knowledge of how to get around, they'll have their location pinged through probably every neighborhood."

"Sometimes, your magical computer skills aren't so special then, huh?"

"And you think because you have muscles on muscles that makes you special?"

I flexed for him. That's what he was getting at. "Like this?" I asked, raising both arms above my head. "You didn't pay for tickets to the gun show, but it's ok. I'll give you this one for free."

His perfectly blue ocean eyes were fixed on me. I'd told him not to fall in love, and he was about to make a fool of himself with the way he was staring. "I was serious about your ass," I said. "I had to put so much lube on it, someone is gonna mistake it for an oil spill and invade." I laughed at him. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You're already in America, they'll take it." With one hand on his hip, I pushed to turn him. "Get all nice and clean now." I rubbed the soap across his ass cheeks, sliding it between them to get him all nice and soapy.

After the shower, we dried ourselves in the large warmed fluffy towels from the heated rack. It was a delight on the senses. Then he laid himself back on the mattress, complaining about why I hadn't put a sheet on it.

"Enough whining," I told him. "You're not staying here, so it doesn't concern you."

"Wait. What?" he lifted his head. "Where will I go? Everyone is looking for me. Your family has connections all over this city. You can't throw me out after I help you."

I stared at him, and the towel delicately wrapped around his waist, threatening to come undone. "Then you'll have to get to the bottom of this faster, otherwise the city will eat you whole."

"Please," he said. "You can't send me back out there. I don't have anywhere to go."

Looking at me all sad with his big eyes. "Get dressed," I told him. "And get to work. If you give me some answers, then maybe I'll think about letting you sleep on my sofa."

"You mean the sofa that you ripped?"

"Yes," I said, shrugging. "What's that saying? Beggars cannot be choosers."

He threw his head back on the bed and groaned.

I was finally feeling better about the whole situation. I put on a nice shirt, some slacks, and spritzed myself with a nice cologne.

Sutton came out of the bedroom in the same baggy, unwashed clothes he'd had on when I brought him in here. "Ok, let's get to work."

"Coffee?" I asked, grabbing at a coffee pod for my machine. "I'm having one, with a little caramel vodka. It might help you take the edge off."

Sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, he nodded. "Sure. I have another question. If I manage to get myself a hotel room, can you drive me there?"

"No. You're not going anywhere."

He turned and gestured to the mess in the living room. "And I'm not staying here. I've lived in worse places that looked nicer than this."

On the coffee table, both of our phones buzzed at the same time.

He went over and grabbed them both.

"What does it say?" I asked.

They both had the same message.

—Did you hurt him?

I snorted. "They think you could kill me. Didn't they see me pull you in off the street?"

"Obviously, they're also asking if you killed me," he said, a shudder running through him. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," I told him. "Not until you can text him and get an answer on where they're located." I snapped my fingers at him. "Go get your laptop and get to work. The sooner we figure it out, the sooner I can be hailed a hero, and we can clear your name, I suppose."

Sutton grabbed his bag while I made us both coffees. The blinds in the entire apartment were still shut. I knew now at least whoever it was sending those messages didn't have an eye inside this place. If they did, they'd have known the answer to that question.

Killing people wasn't what I did. Sure, I looked like I could, but I was more of a lover than a fighter. It was cliche, as my older brothers would say. Or call me a pussy for not wanting to deliver the final gunshot to a man's head. I could be cruel in other ways, like starving someone out, or water torture, that was my favorite.

Sutton was all set with his laptop and a bunch of gadgets. There were so many wires, it was impossible to know what was what. He grabbed both phones and plugged them in.

"You might see photos on my phone that you don't want to see," I told him. "So don't go snooping snoopy boy."

"Oops," he chuckled. "Already did." He seemed to joke at first, until he gave me that slack jaw expression. That's when I knew he'd seen the phones.

"Relax," I said. "It's all consensual." I placed the coffee in front of him. "Unless you're wondering where your picture is."

"I—"

On my phone, I took pictures of every guy I fucked. It was a before and after experiment. Before they took dick, and after they took dick. The before was them on their knees, in the same position all excited. The after was them in bed, defeated by their new nemesis, my dick. Some of them were bound in positions by rope, and others laid there like the little pillow princesses they were.

"I told you not to look so that you would," I admitted.

"You have ropes?" he asked.

"You're one and done," I said. "If you wanted ropes, you should've said that before we started."

He rolled his eyes. "You didn't take a picture of me though. So, I'm not sure if it even counts."

"Oh, a loophole," I snickered. "Get to fucking work."

"I've hooked both phones up, they're being tracked to ping anything they receive. Do you want to text them, or should I?"

I would have that privilege.

—Not dead. Do you want him dead?

We waited for about fifteen minutes for him to message back.

—I never said he was the one.

We both stared at the text.

"Now, that you have confirmation it's not me, what do you think?" he said.

I knew it wasn't him. If he'd taken that much money, he might've afforded better clothes, or maybe even a security detail to prevent people like me from snatching him off the street.

"Text them back then," he said. "I'm trying to get a lock on their location. It's bouncing around between cell towers everywhere."

—Then who is it? Is it you? My family are not happy. They're out for blood.

Sutton's face dropped seeing my response. "Maybe don't threaten him."

"Maybe if he's not threatened, he won't answer."

"If it was me, and someone threatened me," Sutton said, clearing his throat and gesturing to his current situation. "I might also get scared."

"It's different," I told him. "They're out there, somewhere, and you're in here, you have no weapon, except that—that thing. And I have ultimate power. These guns, and this gun." I reached under the counter and pulled out a small handgun. "Don't worry, I won't use it on you."

Sutton edged away from it. "I have friends who can help," he said. "Maybe. I'm not sure where they are right now, but one of my friends was a hitman for the Italian mafia in—"

I spat. "Italians."

"Ew," he groaned.

"I'm not asking for help from a rival. In case you forgot, my family is the Alexeyev family, and we do not ask for help from rivals."

Sutton tilted his head. "You asked for my help."

"Uh-huh. You offered help. You offered help in exchange for your life," I corrected him. "But if you want to rescind you help, then I'll force it out of you." I placed my palm around the handle of the gun. "The choice is yours."

"Ugh."

"Indeed," I said, putting the gun into a holster beneath my arm.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You did," I snickered.

Sutton tapped his fingers on the countertop. "Why do you even want to get the money back? Your family are monsters. They basically stole that money anyway. Or what, they stole lives for that money. Of course, I've heard horror stories about what happens to people who screw over your family. I'd never fall into that trap."

"Because family are everything," I told him. "And if I don't have my family, I have nothing."

He closed the laptop. "I don't have a family. I grew up in foster homes. Family is something people hold over your head to get you to do their dirty work." His brow furrowed. "And I think I'm ready to go find somewhere to stay."

I stepped toward him. "No, you're not going anywhere." Family was important to me, to every family like mine, it was everything. But I could understand why he didn't feel the same. He didn't have a family to go to when things got rough. "Right now, we're in the same lifeboat, except, if I kicked you out of it, you'd drown. If I was kicked out of it, I could float on by until I was found."

Slowly, he opened his laptop again. "I'm doing this to clear my name," he said. "I'm not doing this to help your family. Do you understand that?" He glared deep into my eyes.

"Understood," I told him, a big smile picking at the side of my mouth. "You have the skills to keep yourself alive. I have every faith you'll find out who did this and get the money back."

He took the coffee and sipped it. "At least you can pour a good coffee," he grumbled. "What about food?"

"You think there's anything in that fridge?"

"I'm hungry. So, I hope there is. If you're keeping me captive here, I at least want to be given food. Otherwise, I'll go ahead and scam my way into a nice hotel with room service."

Clicking my tongue at him, like I was training a wild animal to respond. I shook my head. "I'll order food," I told him. "But you have to keep working. If there are no leads, you get no food. And if you do find something, I might reward you again in the bedroom. Because you're right," I pushed my face closer to his. "I didn't give you the proper treatment, and I would like to have you in my collection."

He turned his head so that we were nose to nose. "You have my consent," he whispered.