Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

TRISTAN

“ G ive me a second,” I call when somebody knocks on my door. I put my cell phone back to my ear just in time for Raffie to let out a snort. “What’s funny about that?” I growl. “I’ve got every right to keep the area around my business clean.”

“There’s moving on dealers, then talking down to one of our guys. A Trentini man’s got every right to try and make an honest living. I don’t see how him handing out those flyers affects people giving away their sick dogs.”

I grind my teeth but say nothing. Raffie knows the sanctuary is for more than sick dogs.

“Maybe some of the fellas don’t like you having that place, anyhow,” Raffie says, a cold note in his voice. “Maybe they think it’s bad for business. Makes us look weak.”

“There’s no us ,” I growl. “I’m a private contractor.”

“Do you think that exists in our world?”

I grip the edge of the desk, a sharp jolt moving through my body. It’s like the adrenaline dump I’d experience before a battle. My body flooded with get-ready energy.

“We had a deal. I’d do certain tasks. I’d get paid. That’s it.”

“So why are you hassling one of my guys? You know what? Maybe I’ll put more men out. More flyers.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Raffie.”

“No, really. Explain why you need that home.”

He’s playing games. This isn’t what I signed up for, but I’m not some na?ve green boy either. I’ve lived long enough to know he’d try and turn big bows sooner or later.

“Tristan?”

“I run this home because it’s the right goddamn thing to do. Some of these dogs have been treated like trash for the crime of not knowing which human to listen to. I do it because somebody has to. I do it because all this shit has to mean something, Raffie, which you should understand, but you always refuse to.”

“Hmm …” He’s clearly considering my words, which he’d never do if the men could hear us. That’s how I know he must be alone.

Raffie was a Trentini bastard, but when he went looking for his father’s family, and they gave him an in, he was more than willing to be brought into the fold. Yet they had to remind him of a cold fact one night: he would never be the same as them. That’s why some of the fellas—some of the men he now parties with when they let him—took him to the docks, beat the hell out of him, and spit in his face. He’s content to pretend it never happened. Content to do their dirty work just to be part of the fold.

That’s the difference between him and me. I try to remind myself of that. I do the right thing even if it’s hard. Don’t I?

“I don’t think of it as me choosing to do this. Some dogs need help. It’s in my blood to help them.”

“How noble,” he says in a board tone. “What a hero you are.”

“Fuck your sarcasm. It’s the truth. But why don’t you ask me what you want to—what you really meant?”

“You’re something else, T, always have been. Remember when we were kids? Remember Death Valley?” That was the name for a dirt jump near our neighborhood. “Nobody else would even try it but Tristan Greene. Everybody knew he was tough enough. Just don’t get too tough for your own good.”

“Is that a riddle?” I snap. “We both know what you were getting at, asking me about the home. Don’t take it there.”

Saying it would be like tempting it. Ugly flames flash across my mind, the yaps, bringing me back to the other time with my dog. My stomach tightens. Suddenly, it’s like I want to fight, to bleed. It’s a primal and fucked-up and unwelcome feeling.

“Relax.” Raffie sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. People need to know why you’ve got it, our kind of people.”

“Oh, so you want a story,” I say. “How about this? I’m a mean, tough bastard who takes in some of the scariest dogs in the city. Nobody else can handle them. Nobody else can inspire that loyalty, but I can because I’m like them—an animal.”

“Yeah, that works,” Raffie says with a laugh. “See you soon, big man.”

He hangs up, leaving me to boil over his words. We agreed I’d be completely separate from the Mob crap, but that’s on me, too. I should’ve left that bastard alone.

But Maya …

Hell, I’m keeping her waiting now. Pushing away from my desk, I open the office door and find her sitting on the couch outside. She’s got her hands clasped in her lap and is staring off into the distance.

“Maya?” I say.

When she jumps, I feel like the biggest asshole. She looks up at me with a small smile, but she can’t hide the way her eyes glisten or the tightness when she forces a smile. I know her real ones from her fake ones already.

Standing quickly, she says, “Mr. Greene.”

I smile tightly. She’s looked me up, then, or the home, at least. “You can call me Tristan,” I tell her.

I’m not usually bothered when people call me by my surname. A lot of people prefer it. I’ve met men who wouldn’t call me anything else. Yet I don’t know about Maya; it doesn’t feel right.

In the office, I walk right to the desk, but she pauses and looks at the photos on the wall. There’s me with Odin, my service dog.

“He was yours?” she says, looking over at me. “He looks so clever.”

“He was. Even smarter than Loki, but don’t tell him I told you that.”

“What was his name?” she asks, seeming genuinely interested.

“Odin.”

“Like the Norse god?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Just like Loki.” Her smile falters. She seems on edge, on the verge of running away. “Can I ask how you two bonded if that’s okay?”

This catches me off guard. “It’s … it’s a long story.”

She looks at me closely. “He must have been pretty special.”

Something’s eating her up. I can tell she’s upset. Her eyes are a bit red and slightly watery. Has she been crying?

I sigh. “All right, well, we met during training. He was smart and tough as nails. At first, he didn’t trust anyone, not even me.”

“How did you change that?

“Patience. I spent hours every day working with him—training, playing, just being there. One night, during active duty, we got into a bad spot: mayhem, chaos, just bad stuff.”

I don’t know why I’m opening up like this. I’m speaking so casually, and there’s something about how she looks at me, with no expectation at all, that makes me think I can talk about this.

“That’s intense,” she says. “What did Odin do?”

“What he always did. He stayed by my side and kept the enemies at bay until help arrived. He saved my life that night and a lot more.”

My voice has gotten husky. I gesture to the chair opposite me, though a big part of me wants to walk over and wrap my arms around her. I ignore the insane, out-of-place instinct.

“Are you still interested in the job?” I say, changing the subject.

She laughs strangely. “ Very interested.”

“You said you needed flexible hours?”

“Not anymore.”

“Wait, you lost your job?” That would explain the tears. “When?”

“Just now,” she says in a numb voice that has me feeling pissed. The world’s a damn cruel place, and I usually don’t let my heart bleed for every suffering person. Yet, I find myself wanting to make life easier for Maya. “Literally before I came here.”

“Why?”

“Money. Because he could.” She shrugs. “But don’t let this sway your decision. The city’s full of people who need work.”

“Would you be able to commit to a salaried position?” I say, thinking of Tank, all his talk about finances. It’s all true.

She blinks at me. “A salaried position?”

I nod. “The hours would be long. Essentially, you’d be working across the board with whoever needed you, but it would be steady income.”

“But what if I suck?”

“Will you?” I ask, leaning forward.

She sits up, almost like the question has offended her, even though she’s the one who brought it up. “I’ll do my best. I always do. Even with jobs I hate, and believe me, I won’t hate this job. I just don’t understand why you’d offer it to me. You must have so many applicants. I haven’t even told you my qualifications because I haven’t got any.”

She bites down, looking so beautifully unsure. I keep my hands under the table so I won’t do anything foolish. I want to touch her, feel her warmth, in an animalistic way. Just grab her and hold her, and that’s it.

“I guess I’m wondering why you’d do this,” she says. “Is it charity?”

That would make things so much simpler for both of us if I were just some Good Samaritan, if, even now, my dick wasn’t aching, my balls pulsing, as I obsessed over all the things I could do with her, to her.

“What if I said it was?” I ask. “If I told you I wanted to help you out. If I said, ‘ I’m only giving you this job because you seem to need it .’ What then?”

She swallows, and it’s like she’s forcing her pride away. I’ve heard that so many times. Swallowing your pride , but this is the first time I’ve seen it.

“Then I’d say, I’ll do my best, every day, to make sure you don’t regret your decision.”

She doesn’t know I’ve seen her sick relative in bed, all those machines keeping them alive. She could mention it right now. She could tug on my heartstrings, but she chooses not to. She just looks at me, ready for whatever I decide. That deserves a lot of respect.

“I’m a hard worker,” she says, meaning I’ve probably just been staring down at her for a little too long. She’s got some firecracker spunk in her as she goes on. Something about her tied-up hair differs from when I saw her that night, adding to her tough look. “I’m not necessarily a quick learner, but I’m persistent. I won’t quit. I’ll keep going until I get it right.”

“What salary would you be comfortable with?” I ask.

The corner of her lip twitches in that captivating way again. “That’s not usually how this works.”

I slide a notepad across the desk. “It is now, but I want to be clear. I’ll be generous with the salary, but I expect you to do the work. This isn’t?—”

“I don’t need charity,” she cuts in, with a temper that interests me. I respect her backbone. “If I’m crap, fire me.”

I nod to the notepad. She bites down. I’m not sure she realizes she’s doing it. It’s so beautiful, her jaw clenching and her eyebrows furrowing. It’s a look of complete, sincere concern. Somehow, it tells me she’s a good person. She cares. She wants to make the best of this but doesn’t want to rip me off.

Taking a pen, she quickly scrawls something. I take the notepad and read the figure, nodding. “That’s doable,” I tell her, thinking of the budget, wondering if I’m lying right now. I may need to call up Raffie for more work.

“Really?” She’s wide-eyed with shock, and that makes it all worth it.

“Really,” I tell her. “When can you start?”

“Right now.” She shrugs. “I haven’t got anywhere else to be.”

“You can shadow Miles. He’s one of our dog handlers slash cleanliness specialists.”

She wrinkles her nose in a reflexive grin. I could spend hours studying her every detail. It makes no damn sense. I just met this woman. “Cleanliness specialists ? Is that a fancy name for crap-picker-upper?”

I grin. “Bingo.”

“At least I don’t have to keep this outfit clean anymore,” she says, pausing at the door. When she turns back, her lips are pursed. My savage mind tells me to walk quickly across the room, grab her, throw her up against the wall, and make use of those gorgeously pursed lips.

“Tristan, I am thankful for this opportunity, and I don’t want to be disrespectful …”

“Your pay,” I say, reading the nerves in the red flush of her cheeks. I can see how young she is when she goes red like this. It makes her seem more innocent. It makes me wonder if, by becoming her boss, I’ve stopped anything from happening between us. “It’s fine. If you need an advance …”

“No, but can I get it weekly? That’s all.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll get up to speed right away.”

She leaves the room with that. I walk to the door, meaning to close it, but it gives me the best view to watch her go. She walks down the stairs, her pants clinging tightly to her backside, purpose in her stride.

Going to the window, I look down onto the open-air section, watching as Loki goes into hyper mode. He turns and runs right at Maya. Seven miles, he ran. Seven miles to find her, and he kept going back. Now, he won’t leave her side, sniffing and wagging.

When she approaches Miles, he looks up at me as if he thinks she might have wandered off the street and made the whole job thing up. I give Miles a thumbs-up, and he turns back to Maya. Everybody knows we’re strapped for cash. Everybody knows taking on another employee is the last thing I should be doing.

What was I supposed to do? Turn her away? Let her and her sick relative suffer?

Returning to my desk, I delve into my big pile of paperwork, determined to find the most tedious task possible. I want to numb my mind and stop my thoughts from drifting down to Maya. If she’s going to work here, I can’t spend the entire time obsessing.

Before I can get into the flow, my phone buzzes. It’s Raffie. A text. Can you talk?

I should tell him no. I wish I had the luxury. I’m getting too involved with these Mob guys, but I need the cash. I’ve put everything into this place.

Sure , I reply.

A moment later, my phone rings. I pick it up. “Yeah?”

“Got something different,” Raffie says. “A buddy of mine is flying in from Vegas. They run a bare-knuckle shindig: blood and teeth and pure violence. Night after tomorrow. I told them I had the baddest motherfucker in the city. You in?”

I want to tell him to go to hell. It makes me feel weak, too damn human in a way I don’t like, not being able to stick my middle finger in his face. Yet, I’ve got to think of the dogs. With this new employee I’ve just taken on, I’ll be lucky to make next month’s mortgage payment and the month after.

People said I should’ve rented. It would’ve been safer, but I wanted to build something here. Something better than the crap I left behind.

“Tristan?”

“How much?” I grunt.

“Fifty Gs for the winner, another twenty on top if you do it in style. There’s also a Mystery Box event. If you enter that, you get ten thousand up front, but they don’t reveal who you’ll be fighting until that night.”

I do the math in my head. As grimy as it all is, the pay is decent, even better than a lot of pro fighters. It’ll tide us over. Keep people paid.

“Enter me in both divisions,” I tell Raffie.

“You’re going to bring the demon, right, T?”

For some reason, I hate when Raffie calls me T , even if he’s the person I know who’s been calling me it for the longest. He’s my oldest friend, technically, though I’m not sure if there’s anything left there except Mob crap.

“I’ll do what I need to do. When is the event?”

“The night after tomorrow.”

I hang up the phone, massaging my forehead, trying not to let the tension stack up too damn high. I’ve been in more stressful situations than this, dammit.

Going to the window, I look down at Maya as she sweeps around the edge of the pit. She leans over her work stubbornly. I can tell she feels bitter about taking what she thinks of as charity, and as a result, she’ll put everything into each task she does.

Suddenly, she pauses, looks up, and sees me staring. My body stiffens. There’s something in that half-shy, half-angry glint in her eyes that has me thinking about how she’d look as I stripped off her clothes, kissed up and down her perfect neck, lower to those big juicy tits of hers, then lower, under her pants, fuck, her sweet slit.

She tilts her head. It’s like she knows where my thoughts have gone. I turn away before I do something I regret.

My dick is rock-hard just from looking down there at her. My mind won’t stop howling with thoughts of her body. Imagine going down there one evening; she’s the last one left, and we lock eyes again. Only this time, she knows what I want. She knows I’m thinking of tearing down her pants and revealing the perfect thickness of hers.

Turning away slightly, she’ll raise her eyebrows at me, then bend over more and more until she’s showing me her plump rump. “Please,” she’ll start moaning. “Please put your dick in me. Please, Tristan. Fuck my tight pussy. It’s only for you. Oh, baby. All this wetness. My hot, wet, needy hole, all for you, baby.”

I lean forward, resting my knuckles against my forehead. I try to close my eyes, but that only makes me think of her again. The moonlight shafting down in the fantasy, she turns, pulling down her shirt, her big tits spilling free. “No? Do you want to watch me instead?”

My dick surges with hunger as I imagine her spitting on her hand and rubbing all over her big tits. Then, in my hungry mind, she pushes her tits together, pursing her lips. “I’m your employee now. You can do anything you want with me. You can slide your dick in my mouth, between my tits, or in my pussy, whatever you want, wherever you want, whenever you want …”

My hand is twitching like I’m about to start stroking myself here, right at my desk. My head feels hazy like I’ve been drugged.

Taking a breath, I try to be reasonable. It’s probably the idea of fighting. It gets the blood pumping, the primal instincts rushing, but I’m not some beast. I can control myself.

I have to think about the next day, week, and month. That’s about as long as I can go. Any further, and the prospects for the sanctuary aren’t great, but if I can fight and win, I’ve got a chance.