Chapter Eighteen

Ijumped into the stupid Hipmobile, hitting the accelerator and rounding Hallie’s mansion. The plan was to block the assholes from leaving the neighbors’ driveway. Too late. The perp was already flooring it down the street, careening toward the main gates. I followed them, naked, soap bubbles still sliding down my wet skin.

The Russians showed up as soon as Hallie and I hit California ground, making their intentions clear. They hadn’t forgotten about me, what I did, or where I was.

I was hedging my bets on the front gate being closed. I’d hopefully be able to corner them, beat the crap out of them, and find out where Kozlov was. I wanted to get real nice and personal with him and settle our beef once and for all.

The Escalade zinged past the manicured lawns and excessive Spanish Villas, careening downhill before the gate came into view. Unfortunately, it was wide open. Some YouTube star who lived in the neighborhood snailed his way inside in his H1 Hummer.

The Russians laced through the open wrought iron gate and out of the neighborhood. Still on their heels, I slammed my bare foot over the accelerator.

I flicked my phone and called Max.

“Boss?” he answered immediately.

“You need to get to Hallie’s house right now and keep an eye on her.”

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” He sounded worried, and that made me feel…no, fuck that. It didn’t make me feel. Because I didn’t feel. But I wondered why the hell he cared about a woman who used him to get to me.

“She’s fine. Someone followed us home from the airport and I’m chasing their asses down. I don’t want her alone.”

I didn’t want her with him, either. But life was about compromise.

“Who could it be? Didn’t we run a background check on her before starting the post?”

Well, Max, this actually has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me, not that you’re paid to butt into my shit.

“Not sure yet,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Armed.”

“Of course!” Max said. “I—”

I killed the call. My eyes were still zeroed in on the Escalade. The license plate was covered in reflective tape, probably to shake off speed cameras. I could make out some of the numbers, but not all of them.

The two-way road from Hallie’s neighborhood snaked along a mountain. The entire right-hand side was a cliff, bracketed by a low guardrail. The Escalade zigzagged dangerously between the two lanes, trying to throw me off. No cars came from the opposite direction. But when one did appear from the side of the mountain, I floored it and got as close to the Escalade as I could, nearly kissing its bumper. They were trying to lose me. Well, motherfuckers worked really hard to get to me, the least I could do was grace them with my presence.

The driver swirled to the opposite lane again, trying to make the driver of a passing Prius divert their car into my lane and collide with the Nissan.

The Prius grazed me on the left side and I felt the car almost tipping onto the guardrail. I broke left, trying not to lose the Escalade, which was picking up speed, capitalizing on the fact I needed to regain my balance.

The Prius pulled to the right uphill. I could tell the driver was shaken, but uninjured.

The Escalade and I were heading to a multi-lane intersection forking north, south, and east. The Escalade shot through traffic, slipping in and out of the lanes. People honked. Some pulled to the side, not taking any chances. Ten seconds later, the light turned green and the intersection flooded in a river of cars coming from all directions. The Escalade disappeared between them.

“Fuck.” I punched the car horn, producing a deafening sound.

It was done. I couldn’t find them. 1-0 to the home team. This was my cue to tell Tom he was right. The Russians were in the picture. I should bow out and let someone else take care of the Thorne Princess. It was the right thing to do. Shit, it was the smart thing to do. And all my excuses for staying were dumb at best and pathetic at worst.

I needed to think.

Lurching the Nissan LEAF into reverse, I made an illegal U-turn and darted back to Hallie’s neighborhood. By the time I arrived, Max was already there. He sat with Hallie and Keller in the kitchen.

It looked like they were having some sort of vegan DoorDash feast. Keller was in the middle of telling them about his non-conflict, organic, sustainable Brazilian farm where he sourced most of the fruits and vegetables for his juices. It sounded like the least cost-efficient business plan I’d ever heard of.

Max just kept muttering, “Wow,” while sipping on his green smoothie.

“Can I just say,” Keller lifted his head from his green bowl, his gaze zeroing in on my crotch, “you look delectable in your birthday suit.”

I looked down. The towel was still wrapped around my waist, but my cock was swinging about under it, like a limp third leg. I glanced at Hallie coolly to see if she shared his fascination. She busied herself trying to spear a cherry tomato onto her fork.

“I’m going to head out for a few hours.” I directed this at Max, the only person in the room who didn’t want to ride my cock.

Max nodded. “Let me know if you need me to stay overnight.”

A part of me longed to put him in way of temptation. If he fucked her, I could fire him, could bail on this post, and go back to my ordinary life.

“I’ll let you know.”

I went upstairs and dressed in a pair of dark cigar pants, leather sneakers, and a black tee. I grabbed my wallet and phone and made my way downstairs.

I opted for Hallie’s BMW Hydrogen 7. The Nissan LEAF was banged up due to my brush with the Russians.

I drove down to the nearest bar. A black-bricked low building with a pink neon sign stared back at me. Cocks and Tails. Los Angeles was not known for its subtlety. I wanted to be found by Kozlov. Wanted them to corner me.

Pushing the wooden, round-topped door, I shoved past a mass of sweaty, half-naked people dancing to the tune of a truly horrible remix of “In a Manner of Speaking” by Nouvelle Vague. I was about to turn around and head out—this was a mistake, I didn’t need a beer, I needed to make shit right—when I noticed a smaller, separate room for bar-goers. I waltzed inside. The space was dark, gloomy, with high stools and soft erotic paintings. The array of people at the bar sat either in couples or alone, squinting at their smartphones to see where their Tinder date was.

What the hell. One drink wouldn’t hurt.

I slid onto a stool and rapped the bar.

“Jameson, neat.”

“Coming right up,” a barkeep with a blunt haircut and facial piercings squeaked.

As if on cue, a woman of the Desperate Housewives variety—tall, leggy, blonde, with enough makeup to paint a house, slipped onto the seat next to me. She wore a hot pink blazer, matching shorts, and white kitten heels.

“According to the women’s magazine I read today as I waited for my dentist appointment, men who order Jameson know what they’re doing.” She signaled the bartender with her hand.

“White Russian for me.” Then, turning toward me, the woman—twenty-nine? Thirty?—grinned seductively. “What does my drink order say about me?”

“That you’ve never worked in a bar before, so you are under the misguided assumption the milk in the fridge hasn’t expired,” I deadpanned.

She let loose a throaty laugh, caressing her throat. “Maybe I’m optimistic.”

“Isn’t optimistic the PC word for delusional?” What the hell was wrong with me? Did I want to bed this woman, or get kneed in the balls by her?

She laughed again, undeterred. “I like a guy who is quick-witted.”

“And I like to work for my sexual conquests. Care to at least pretend to make it hard for me?”

I could practically envision Hallie giving me her holy shitballs, you’re tragic face.

The bartender returned with both our drinks. I noticed the leggy blonde sniffing her black-on-white cocktail before taking a sip. I glanced around me, hoping to see suspicious people who might look like they’d followed me. This time, I wanted to be caught.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I think the milk is in its prime.” She shot me a sidelong smirk. “And for the record, so am I.”

I offered her a curt nod. It was becoming extremely difficult to repel her. Maybe I was better off just fucking her and telling Hallie. One of us needed to screw up to stop our oversight from happening again. And I could always count on myself to let people down.

“Are you always this forward?” I asked.

“Only when I want something real bad.”

Smirking, I said, “That can’t be a total stranger you just met at the bar. So why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

“Damn. Maybe you’re as good as they say you are.” The woman pivoted on her stool, angling her entire body toward me. “Let’s cut to the chase.”

Glancing down to her impractical heels, I tsked. “If you want to continue being at a point of disadvantage.”

“I know who you are.” She placed her hand between us on the bar.

Was she working for Kozlov? Or was she FBI? She looked too refined for the former and too dumb for the latter.

“You do?” I took a sip of my drink. “Enlighten me, then.”

“You’re Ransom Lockwood of Lockwood and Whitfield Protection Group. A security company based in Chicago. You currently work with Hallie Thorne, daughter of President Anthony Thorne. And you’re an impossible man to hire, which makes me wonder if there’s an interesting backstory behind why you chose to protect the First Daughter.” She raised her glass in a toast, downing it in its entirety.

I motioned for the barkeep to get her a refill.

Expressionless, I turned back to her, not confirming nor denying her words. “Where are you going with this?”

“Where do you want me to go with it?” she purred.

Far the fuck away from me.

I just came here to get cornered by the Bratva, lady.

I shrugged. “You’re the one who’s here with an agenda and my unauthorized Wikipedia page.”

“What did you come here for?” She rested her chin on top of her knuckles.

“A quick fuck,” I was half-lying, half warming up to the idea.

I needed to get Hallie out of my system, out of my head, out of my life. This woman seemed like an unlikely candidate, now that she knew who I was. No matter. Plenty more fishnet stockings in the sea.

“What if you could get out of here with a satisfying fuck and five hundred thousand dollars richer?” She played with the edge of her blazer, exposing slivers of her skin. Of her boring, smooth, unmarked body.

Stop thinking about Hallie. She is not an option.

The bartender reappeared with the second White Russian for the woman, while I still nursed my first Jameson.

“I’d say you are full of bullshit,” I stated.

“Well, that’s because you’re a skeptic. But I’m about to change that.” She offered me her hand. “I’m Anna.”

I stood up, plucking out my wallet and throwing a wad of cash onto the bar. “And I’m out of here.”

“Wait!” She reached for the hem of my shirt, balling it. “Don’t you want to hear my offer?”

“For sex and half a mill?” I arched an eyebrow. “It’s either a pyramid scheme or a job. I’m not interested in either.”

“As I said, you’re a skeptic, and I’m about to change that.” She smoothed a hand over my torso. “Sit down.”

I did, but only because the thought of going back to Hallie’s place and watching her ignore me was strangely unbearable.

“You have three minutes,” I announced.

“I don’t think so. Finish your drink and get another one. I want us to be on an even field when we have this conversation.” She gestured with her chin to my Jameson.

“You’re not in a position to negotiate,” I reminded her.

“Sure I am.” She raised my glass, putting it to my lips. “I offer money, sex, and power. The most sought-after things in the universe. Now, bottoms up.”

Taking another sip, I studied her again. She was good-looking, in an obvious L.A. way. Inflated breasts, lips, and not a wrinkle to be found. She’d probably be good in bed. Women of her range had read all the books and owned the award-winning sex toys.

“What do you want?” I asked bluntly.

“Hallie ‘Hallion’ Thorne’s head on a platter.” She licked her lips, her eyes boring into mine with manic intensity. “I want to know everything about President Thorne’s wild child. All the dirty deets. The interesting secrets. Why she’s alone here? Why she dropped out of college? What it’s like in her big, lonely mansion?”

I thought about Hallie’s dyslexia. Sexual abuse. Fucked-up family life and insecurities. The Thornes were hiding so much. Instead of giving her the support she needed, in case of making her an advocate, lifting her up to the position she deserved, they tucked her away, then were surprised when she became bitter and uncooperative.

“Who do you work for?” I asked.

“Yellow Vault.”

Yellow Vaultwas one of the worst tabloids out there. Their headlines rarely had anything to do with reality. Whenever I passed by a stack of the wasted paper in a bodega or kiosk while grabbing a coffee, I wondered who was soulless and corrupt enough to come up with these headlines.

PRINCE FREDERIK’S SEX DWARF EATEN BY GIRAFFE.

THE POPE’S DEADLY PARTY BINGE.

PREGNANT BY THE SAME MAN! CAN THESE TWO ACTRESSES SURVIVE THE SHAME?

“Let me get this straight.” I leaned against the bar. “You think I’ll break my NDA and ruin my good name for a chance to earn ten percent of my annual salary and the opportunity to tit-fuck a pair of plastic jugs?”

Anna pushed my fresh drink toward me along the bar, her face impassive. “I think you’re interested. I’ve made it this far with you, haven’t I? Drink up.”

Amused that she thought such an obvious ploy could work on me, I smirked. “If I have another drink, so should you.”

“Deal.” She ordered shots. “And back to our conversation—I don’t know why you’re contemplating taking my offer, but I can tell you are. Might not be the money. And the sex is definitely just a small perk. But whatever’s making you want to go for it—listen to that voice. You’re nothing in the Thorne operation. Just another service provider. And this article will be risk-free, I guarantee. You’ll be an anonymous source. I can sign whatever your lawyer sends my way.”

If Hallie found out I’d sold her secrets, I wouldn’t have to keep away. She’d make sure she had nothing to do with me all on her own. The idea wasn’t completely bad.

Anna and I downed more shots.

She put her hand on my shoulder, letting out a little excited gasp. “Wow. Someone’s been working out.”

“There are rules if you want to have sex,” I said, ignoring her observation. “Non-negotiable, just like my terms for this deal.”

“Let’s hear ’em out.”

She waved to the bartender, ordering more shots.

That’s when I realized I knew Anna.

Up close and personal.

And that she recognized me, too.

Three hours later, I tripped out of a taxi, stumbling my way to Hallie’s front door. I couldn’t take the car. I couldn’t even walk to the car. What I could do was recognize I’d made a terrible mistake, and that I was going to regret it.

After two unsuccessful attempts to punch the security code at the door later, the massive piece of wood swung open on its own accord. Max stood on the other side, looking sleepy, still in his day clothes.

What time was it? I glanced down at my watch. Four in the morning. Great.

“Everything okay, boss?” Max asked, stepping sideways to allow me entrance. I zigzagged to the kitchen, the room around me spinning. I didn’t drink much. At least, not that much. Which led me to believe the ever-resourceful Anna had spiked one of my shots after she’d realized I recognized her, probably while I was busy checking my phone for texts from a certain Hallion.

I pulled a cabinet open, took out a glass, and poured myself tap water, gulping it in one go.

“Fine. Get the fuck out of here.”

“You sure?” Max shifted in his spot, barefoot. “You don’t look like…hmm…”

“Like what?” I demanded.

“Like you’re in a state to protect someone else.”

“Well, I am. And you’re no longer needed. Get out.”

“Ransom—”

“Out!”

He moved around the house silently. He took his bag and put his jacket on. On his way out the door, he rapped the doorframe, letting out a sigh. “I’ll be around if you need me.”

“Around where? A park bench?” I spat out.

He shook his head and exited the house.

I dragged myself up the stairs, pushing through not to stop by her door. I got into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, got out of my whiskey-soaked shirt, and walked out.

I needed to at least check on her to make sure she was alive. Or that’s what I told myself. It was my professional duty, if nothing else.

I strolled over to her door and pushed it lightly. The silhouette of her back rising and falling was breathtaking. She wore a crème, sleeveless shirt, her ruby hair pooling over her pillow.

I was weak.

So weak.

Weak when I stepped into her room, shutting the door behind me quietly.

Weak when I told myself that it was better to sleep with her, just in case.

Weak when I slipped into her bed.

Weak when I circled my arms around her and tried to pretend tonight had never happened.

She stirred inside my arms, kicking the blanket off. She smelled of vanilla and fruity smoothies and like a broken princess, and I couldn’t take it anymore. The perfect combination of sweet and tragic.

Pressing my nose against the back of her neck, I told myself that it was okay. I’d been drugged. I was allowed a misstep.

My lips found the hollow part between her neck and shoulder. I sucked on it softly. She let out a soft moan.

“Should I stop?” I croaked, my tongue moving along her salty skin.

“Not yet,” she breathed out, flipping from her side to her back. I caught her mouth with mine, kissing her slow and deep, awakening her as softly as I could. My cock was throbbing in my cigar pants.

My lips dragged along her skin, drinking her in, while my fingers fumbled with her boy shorts. I loved that she didn’t wear sexy, skimpy clothes to bed. That she didn’t try to impress.

I dipped my index finger into her. She was soaking wet and warm, so warm. My free hand went to unbuckle myself. She reached for my palm, stopping me mid-move.

“Not so fast.”

Pulling away, I stared down at her, searching her eyes in the dark. I was panting like a chased animal and hoped she didn’t smell the alcohol on my breath, or the woman’s perfume clinging to my clothes.

You’re a bastard for doing this to her. Especially now. Especially after all this.

“Tell me how it works, then,” I whispered.

She placed her hand over my heart. It was beating like crazy. I hated that she had this effect on me. Hated that she knew it, too.

“Eat me out, and then maybe—maybe—I’ll fuck you.”

She had the audacity to yawn in my face, smiling sleepily up at me afterwards, as if to say, Whatcha gonna do about that, cowboy?

I’d never gone down on a woman before. I knew a true take-it-or-leave-it offer when I saw one. Hallie would kick me out if I wouldn’t do as she wished.

I reached down, biting her chin softly. “Anyone ever told you you’re a brat?”

“Yes, and often.” She pushed my head down her body, spreading her legs, her shorts still intact. I tugged the fabric between her legs to one side, licking my lips. My cock was so engorged I wondered if I had blood circulation coming to my brain at all. Leaning down, I kissed her slit. The warmth of my lips found the heat of her center. She moaned, surprising me again by peering between her legs curiously, watching me.

I started French-kissing her pussy. Dragging my tongue in and out of her. She tasted good. Earthy and sweet. My new favorite dessert.

Pushing her wider using my fingers, I dug deeper with my tongue. Her hand found my hair. She pulled at it, tilting my face up to watch her.

Fuck, she was hot when she was being a controlling bitch.

“Suck my clit,” she demanded.

“Ask nicely.”

“Suck my clit, or I’m kicking you out.” She awarded me with a winning smile in the dark.

I needed no further instructions and dug right in, sucking on the small bud while finger-fucking her. As much as I enjoyed it—and I did enjoy it—I waited for the moment she’d come, pull me up, and let me in. I needed to be inside her. To erase the day from my memory. But I also recognized what she was doing here. Taking control. Just the way I did when I played my little fantasy games.

“More fingers.” She flung one of her legs over my shoulder.

I complied.

“I’m coming.”

“Yes,” I breathed, picking up the pace. “Shit, yes.”

She fell apart, her muscles clenching around my fingers. A rush of warmth traveled through her. She shuddered violently, and I wondered what brand of stupid idiot I was to think only women enjoyed giving oral sex. This was officially the best thing since sliced bread.

I pulled away, quickly unbuckling my belt.

With the room around me still spinning, I felt the tip of Hallie’s leg as she pushed me off the mattress, her foot pressed against my chest. I lost my balance and fell flat on my ass at the foot of her bed.

“What the hell?” I inquired from my new position on the floor.

“The hell, is you’ve been an asshole to me all day. A mistake, my ass, Random. We’re going to have sex on the reg. Now that you’ve given me what I wanted, I’m ready to go back to sleep. Make sure you close the door on your way out.”

She offered me another yawn, turning around to her original position, on her side, hair flung against her pillow.