Page 56 of Gangsters and Guns


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Hot stuff? Is he for real?

I turn around, glaring at the group of men approaching me. Most women would fear them, but these fuckers don’t know who I am or what I’m capable of. They don’t know about the switchblade in my purse or the murdered motel manager’s blood that coats my hands.

They can’t intimidate me.

I cross my arms over my chest and cock my hip to the side. “I do, actually, but in your case, I hardly believe there would be a stick for me to hold.”

The one in the middle laughs. He’s a shorter, balding man in his mid-thirties, wearing cheap dress pants that are too long for him and Walmart brand loafers. His black button-up is wrinkled and stained, but this is clearly hisniceoutfit.

His clothes, however, aren’t what draws my attention first—it’s the inky black teardrop tattoo on his pale face. This man may be ignorant, but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous. His eyes run up and down my body, and I’ve never been more grateful for a leather jacket in my life.

He nods at the coffee in my hand. “Boss send you out for a little joyride in his car? Bringing him a coffee like a good little slut?”

Slut? Oh, he’s fucking with the wrong girl.

“Actually, the car is mine. And my boss? He brings me coffee.”

He snickers. “I’d bring you coffee too after fucking you six ways to Sunday.”

“I wouldn’t let you touch me if you paid me a million fucking dollars. Besides, you couldn’t find a hole to fuck if you fell into one,” I retort to the laughter of his friends. “Now, I don’t want to be late for work. So why don’t you fuck off and go suck a dick? Kay, bye.”

Before I do something I’ll regret, like stabbing one in the neck with my switchblade, I march toward the elevators, thanking fuck when the doors immediately close behind me.

I let out a sigh of relief as I begin my ascent into the office building. Exiting on ground level, I march over to the second bank of elevators, heading to the farthest one on the right. I scan my keycard once inside and take the smooth ride up to the top.

My fourth alarm rings. It’s seven-thirty AM, thirty minutes before their first appointment.

One fucking point for Rory.

The familiar entrance hall greets me, the chandeliers dangling overhead as I step into my office. I don’t hear any noise, and I smile to myself, thinking I’ve finally won, until I drop my purse on my desk and find a bright Post-it.

Damn those fucking sticky notes!

You’re late,it reads in big, bold letters, the script belonging to Maddox.

Son of a fucking bitch.

Plopping down, angry with myself, I have a small pity party before the door across from mine opens and I’m staring into the annoyed face of Maddox. Visions swim through my head of him caging me in last night when I got off on the wrong floor.

I felt his power, his anger, his desire pouring off of him and into me. I wanted to run, I wanted to hide, I wanted to strip down and offer myself to him. He gets me all hot and bothered, all confused and unsure.

Could I handle a man like him? Would I ever be the same after allowing him to take me down the dark, depraved path I know he would choose?

Do I even care?

Maddox mouths something to me that looks like, “Clothes off,” and then he removes an invisible jacket from his body. For a moment, I just stare, imagining him stripping for me before it clicks.

Oh, my jacket.

Anxiety fills me as I shrug out of the leather coat, immediately missing the heat. As Maddox’s black eyes begin to darken further, his gaze narrowed on my chest, I know for sure he’s the one who chose this outfit.

Why does that thought heat my core and have wetness gathering between my legs?

My nipples tighten painfully as he blatantly watches, and my heart hammers in my chest as shame heats my cheeks. I envision a dark room with Maddox, bare chested and coated in sweat, as he works a length of rope. Like a piece of art, he binds me with it, the coarseness abrading my skin…

A ding sounds a moment later, pulling me from my thoughts as footsteps make their way down the hallway. I almost choke on my latte when the same dumb fuck from the garage waltzes through the glass door and into Maddox’s office.

Seriously, could this day get any worse?

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