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And on top of that, for some reason, I didn’t want to leave Clair. I wasn’t sure why, since the girl despised me. But maybe it was the way she looked at me when I was working out, her eyes on my sweating, muscular body, or the way she smiled, or how I’m pretty sure she’ll start opening up to me sooner or later.
When she does, I plan on stripping her bare and tasting every inch of her sweet body.
“I want to see this through, sir,” I said.
Another short pause. I looked up at the ceiling, wondered what she was doing.
“I’ll let you stay,” he said. “But I’m going to dock your cut. Every mistake you make means less money in your pocket. And when the money runs out, then you’ll pay with your life.”
“I can handle that,” I said.
Since the money didn’t matter all that much. I had plenty saved up.
“Very well,” he said. “Stay with her. Make sure she’s okay. I’m visiting later to speak with her.”
“Thank you, Don.”
“Don’t let me down again, Luca.”
He hung up the phone.
I tensed and gripped my phone hard, tempted to break it in my fist, tempted to throw it through the wall.
But instead, I relaxed, tossed it onto the couch, and looked toward the steps.
And was surprise to see Clair there, wearing a navy-blue shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts, her hair dripping wet.
“How long have you been there?” I asked.
“I heard a little bit,” she said. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said and walked over to the couch. “Not getting paid.”
“Oh,” she said and lingered on the steps. “That’s not good, right?”
“If you like money, then no, it’s definitely bad.”
She chewed her lip and looked away. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said.
“I know that.”
“I can tell him, if you want.”
“He won’t see it that way.”
She came down another step, leaned against the railing. The hem of her shirt lifted just a bit, showing off her tight, lean stomach. I let my eyes drift down to her long legs then back up to her eyes.
“Thanks for what you did back there,” she said.
I shrugged one shoulder. “No problem. It’s my job.”
“He was going to hurt me,” she said. “I think he might’ve killed me.”
“They wouldn’t have killed you,” I said. “Not at first, anyway. They would’ve gotten your money then killed you.”
She grimaced, looked away, and I thought she might be sick. But she breathed deep and came down the steps. She walked into the living room, stared at the couch, seemed to change her mind, and sat down in a big, padded leather armchair.
“Seriously, thank you,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking. I just… I just wanted to get away.”
“I know,” I said. “I get it. You didn’t ask for any of this.”
“You didn’t either. But you… you killed a man.”
I waved that off. “Not the first Jalisco asshole I’ve killed.”
That seemed to unsettle her. She looked away, shifted in the chair, gripped the armrests. “How long will my ears keep ringing?”
“Might be a few hours, might be a few days,” I said. “I don’t really know. My ears stopped ringing after the first few times.”
“Did you lose hearing?”
“Probably. Haven’t noticed though.”
“Right, okay.”
“You’re okay,” I said. “Don’t worry too much about it.”
She nodded then grimaced as she adjusted her leg again. “I got glass in my thigh,” she said.
“How bad?” I asked.
She sat up, looked at the back of her leg. A little line of red trickled down, stained the chair.
“Still bleeding,” she said. “I thought it stopped.”
“Must’ve ripped it open,” I said and stood up. “Hold on. I’ll fix you up.”
I went into the kitchen, got some paper towels, handed her one. She wordlessly pressed it against her leg while I went into the bathroom and found an old first aid kit under the sink. I came back out, knelt down in front of her, and opened the kit up.
I took an alcohol swab and cleaned the cut off first. She frowned a little but didn’t wince at the burn. I put the swab aside then got out a strip of clean gauze. I cut it to shape using a pair of tiny scissors, pressed it against her leg, and gently taped around it. Once I was done, I smoothed out the tape, running my fingers down its length, my fingertips brushing against her skin.
She stared down at me with this open mouth that sent a thrill through my chest. I looked back up at her, held her gaze there. I wanted her to look at me, wanted her to know that I liked it. I kept my fingers on her leg but didn’t push it, didn’t go too far. I didn’t want to scare her away, but I wanted the touch, craved the feeling of her smooth skin under my hands.
