Tainted Hands

TAINTED HANDS

Piper

I assumed I would never want more from a man than his body.

That was until him.

I hate him.

I do.

Don't let my words fool you.

But I want him as much as I hate him.

The way he walks with that arrogant smirk makes me wish I could cut those lips off.

Keir nods to him, then walks away as they conclude their business conversation. Usually, I would be there next to Keir, but I chose to stay back this time.

Away from Ezra, whose gaze kept flicking to me throughout their conversation.

Stalking me like prey.

"You should talk to him," Keir says as he reaches me.

I suck in a breath but don't reply, and he doesn't wait for me to speak before he strides out the door, his brother Joey following him, leaving me alone—and too close—with Ezra.

Ezra runs his own business that specializes in old cars and motorcycles. Most of his cars and bikes come from Keir, who takes possession of them for late payment.

That's usually if he doesn't kill the people first.

But Ezra has been with Keir for a few years, always silently working away in the background.

He understands that Keir doesn't come here to chat—it's always business with him. And Ezra is an expert at dealing with him. Even bargained a nice chunk of profit for himself, which was risky when he first carried out business with him.

It could have gone one of two ways.

Keir could have killed him and taken over the shop. But that would have left a gaping hole regarding who would do all the repairs and sales. Sure, Ezra has a small team, but Ezra is an expert at what he does, and more importantly, he is committed to silence.

Keir respects that more than anything else.

So Keir's only other option was to agree.

Keir approved the business transaction at first, requesting a high turnover.

But Ezra wasn't one to take things lying down and lose money on the transactions.

He knew exactly his worth, and Keir respected that about him.

"Do you plan to just stand there?" It drawls from Ezra's lips, and I can't help myself staring at said lips. I shake my head and turn to walk away. But as I do, my body tingles when I feel him come up behind me. He's always cautious when he touches me. The first time he laid a hand on me, I turned around and punched him in the stomach.

He wasn't expecting it.

I didn't care.

And now he knows better.

I've had sex with him once.

Once. And somehow, he's altered me.

When I close my eyes, I dream of his lips all over my body. And even when I open them, I can still smell him.

Cigars and honey—it's such an odd combination, but the scent is divine.

"Stay," he demands as his hand encircles my wrist. I turn around and look down at where his filthy hand grips me. He's always covered in some type of car grease. I remember washing that grease off my body only a few weeks ago.

He came to one of Joey's parties, and I may have had too much to drink and went back to his place for the night. Then I snuck out and haven't seen him since.

Not that he would know where to find me.

I assumed it would be easy.

A meaningless one-night stand.

But I haven't been able to get him out of my head since.

And how Keir and the rest of them know! Well, I guess my making out with him was a clear indicator that night, right?

"I have work to do," I declare, pulling away. But I don't pull hard enough for his hand to break contact. Instead, his grip tightens on my wrist.

"Come back later. You know where to find me."

I glance down at his hand, then back up to his face. Looking back at me are the most gorgeous green eyes with tints of blue. But the green is unlike anything I have ever seen. It's a sparkling green, and it almost shimmers in the light. His lashes are so long. It should be illegal for men to have such beautiful lashes. Ezra wears jeans that hug his ass so perfectly, with a black tank top that molds to his toned chest and shows off his tanned skin. He's covered in grease, but I don't care.

The image of him above me as he whispers dirty things to me, flashes in my head.

"I shouldn't," I tell him. Meeting his gaze removes the erotic images from my mind.

"You should." He drops my wrist and spins on his heels, returning to the car he was working on. I watch as he bends over and picks up a rag, wiping a wrench on it. "Come back later so I can fuck you until you scream, just the way you and I both like it."

My cheeks blush at his words. He has no shame in what he says to me, but when he speaks to others, he's calm and clear. It's like he leaves all his wicked, nasty words for me. My mind wanders back to our last encounter…

" Oh, does that cunt love squeezing my cock? What a fucking masterpiece it is."

I shake my head to clear his words from the last time we liaised. I decide not to reply before I leave.

Let's face it… I don't know how to reply.

The car is waiting for me when I exit the shop. Joey is driving, and Keir is in the passenger's seat. Their eyes are firmly on me as I slide into the back.

It's rare to have a woman in this business, but I've proven myself to them time and time again. And now I'm considered one of them, even though they're family. Ranking in this family is incredibly important when your cousin controls everything that supplies the money. And the power.

Some call him Mafia King.

I call him Boss.

"So, Ezra?" Joey asks with a small laugh.

Keir says nothing. And if he didn't approve, I can honestly say I would listen. His opinions are extremely important to me. He's in power for a reason. And we all respect the authority and strength that he exudes. The man doesn't have to say anything, and you know the control, command, and, particularly, his potency seeps from every pore.

He has changed how our family sees women. Before Keir, it was known that every first son would take over the business, even if a daughter was born first.

But Keir changed that situation when Sailor had his daughter.

His daughter, Wren, is the apple of his eye. And she means everything to him, maybe even more than Sailor, which is a big ask.

And no other woman has the power I have. It took a while for people to recognize that I contained the strength within me to do the required tasks. I would do jobs, and the men would not take me seriously.

That was until I put a bullet in them or slit their throat.

Then they fucking listened.

I didn't need Keir or the other men in the family to tell them who I was.

I fucking showed them.

And now, I love what I do and who I am.

But sometimes I'm lonely.

Anyway, back to Joey's question, which needs answering as they look at me oddly for taking so long. But I answer with an emphatic, "No! Not Ezra. We fucked. End of story."

"So why was he looking at you like you were about to do that again?" Joey asks as he starts the car.

"I like him," Keir says, almost out of the blue and definitely out of character to speak the words out loud.

"We know you like him. If you didn't, you would have killed him already," Joey replies, smiling as he drives off.

Ezra

She's a spicy little minx, that one.

I've known who she is for a while. She's always lurking in the background when I talk with Keir.

Loitering and dangerous.

I've heard stories of her and how she isn't afraid to shoot first. Actually, she's known for it.

That night at Joey's party, I wanted to know what her voice sounded like, and to no surprise, it was as sweet as I had imagined. Dressed in a mini skirt with black boots and her hair down, she was every man's fucking dream.

And even better, she screamed my name when she came.

What man doesn't get a rise, quite literally, out of that?

Now, if I could just get her to come back and let me do that to her again.

"What's up with the angry girl? I saw you grab her," Lydia says, walking into the shop.

Lydia works solely in the office for me.

"Angry girl?" I ask, confused.

"Yep, she always looks furious when she comes in with those guys." Lydia has no idea who they are, and it's best we keep it that way. They deal with me, and me alone, and that's the way I like it.

I smile at the thought of Piper being mad.

"Do you like her?" Her words pull me from my thoughts. I look up to see her brown eyes locked on me when she reiterates, "Do you?"

"Why?" Lydia and I kissed once. It was a mistake, and I told her so. I'm pretty sure she kissed me, and I let it happen. But still, it happened, and I am sure there are unexplored feelings there on her part.

"She isn't really your type, now, is she?" Her hands go to her hips over the tiny little shorts she wears. I don't have a uniform for her, and I try to keep my opinion to myself about what women wear— their body, their choice—but I often think she wears what she does on purpose. When I first hired her, she wore jeans, but after the kiss, it seems she prefers the sexy look and the shorter her bottoms are, the better.

"I have a type?" I ask with a raised brow. "And you would know this how?"

I tend to keep to myself. I prefer it that way. Basically, all I do is work. I speak to my brother often, and I'll go out for drinks on the odd occasion. And on some of those nights, I will end up in the bathroom with my hand up a woman's dress as she tells me how badly she wants to fuck me. Not that I complain, because sometimes all you need is a release. And I do love women—all types of women, especially crazy ones.

"You're attracted to me, and she is not me." Lydia smiles, flicks her hair over her shoulder, and sashays back to the reception area.

Shit .

Does she really think that?

Fuck! Obviously, I was not clear enough last time.

Going after her, I find her with her feet up on the desk and a smile on her face. She's pleased I followed her, I suppose.

"Lydia—" I start, but she cuts me off.

"You can have me here on this desk. Think about it." She lowers her feet and leans over it, her tits on full display her top gaps that much.

"Please stand up," I say while shaking my head. "You're fired." I turn and walk out.

The gasp is loud and clear before she runs after me. "No, please don't. I don't know what's wrong with me." Her hand lands on my shoulder and I shrug it off.

Goddammit! I hate being touched. Doing the touching is not an issue, but I can't stand having other people's hands on me.

But I let Piper touch me.

"I don't want you, Lydia," I say simply and clearly so she can't be confused. "I hired you to work and had one moment of misjudgement. If you can't put that behind us, this won't work."

"I'm sorry, I've had a bad week." She brushes her hair behind her ear. "It won't happen again."

I nod as she turns and goes back to the office.

I head back to the Mustang I've been working on and stay there for a few hours, getting lost in the work.

That's how it always is.

My mind is preoccupied with the beautiful beast of a machine I am working on. To make this girl sing again is the ultimate objective.

I hear Lydia leave and she didn't say goodbye. If she did, I didn't hear her. It could be because I have my music cranked loud unless I have someone in here with me working.

I don't hear her come in, but I see her black, sky-high boots from my spot under the car. Her jeans hug those legs as she stands on the other side of the car. Rolling out from under the Mustang, I look up at her. Piper's arms are crossed over her chest, and those almost black eyes that match her black hair stare down at me.

"Just sex," she says, and my mouth turns up into a smile. She raises a brow as if urging me to say something that will make her change her mind. "Nothing more."

I don't agree to her terms as I stand and head to the wash area. I make quick work of tearing off my shirt, kicking free of my jeans. She remains where she is as I walk to the back shower room. After quickly washing and throwing on some clean clothes, I return to find her leaning against the car, her phone in hand, lost in her own world.

"Dinner," I say, reaching for my car keys. She goes to argue, but I stop her with a finger to her lips. "Then I fuck you all night long. But first, I need fucking food." Pulling away, I take her hand and drag her out, shutting the door behind me.

Opening the car door, Piper slides in, giving me her forever stoic expression.

I plan to make it crack tonight…

… in my bed.