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Again, Booker remains silent on the other end of the line, refusing to engage. Booker will never allow himself to get in an argument with me. When he feels enough time has passed, he says, “I’ll be here when you get here. She’s in good hands.”
I take my little green Maserati, the car hugging the curves of the road as I tear down the mountain. One hand grips the wheel, the other taps against my thigh, wanting to smack that perfect ass of hers. How dare she defy me like this?
I didn’t ask her to get in the car at seven. I told her to.
Finally, I spot the little yellow cottage. The house is small, modest. The paint is peeling, the yard in need of cutting and a good weed killer, but the windows are spotless, the front porch swept, and well-cared-for flowers sit in window boxes.
Booker stands at the front door, eyes watching. My driver is sitting in the parked car that brought her here. He sees me through the windshield, giving me a shrug. I can’t see Carlos, but I know my men. He’s at his post at the back door, keeping watch.
I throw the car into park, slamming the door as I leave it. “That little girl’s got some explaining to do.”
Booker opens the door for me. No smile this morning. He knows I’m not in the mood.
“Kylie! Kylie, get out here.” My hands go to my hips. I pace the small porch. Booker wanders down the front path, giving me some space.
Her pretty face pops in the doorframe as she appears at the open door, her hair drawn up in a ponytail that makes her look impossibly cute. It’s… frustrating. She narrows her brow at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Why didn’t you come with my men this morning? I told you, very clearly. Be in the car at seven.”
“I’m sorry. I told Booker.” Her ponytail swings as she shakes her head. “I can’t take the job.”
I stop pacing. One hand on my hip, the other pointing at her. “You begged for that job.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
I cross my arms over my chest, planting my feet, my stance wide. I’m not leaving this porch without her. “You owe me an explanation. The truth. Why didn’t you get in that car this morning?”
“The job, the club… it’s just not… me. I’m… I’m scared. I didn’t know what to do.”
Her voice is small and the sound of it does something to my chest, that tugging sensation coming back.
I lower my tone. Drop my arms to my sides. “What are you scared of?”
Her gaze drags up to meet mine. “Of you.”
She’s scared of me? Why? “Me?”
She nods.
I feel anger building back up. This girl is in serious need of another trip over my lap. I think of my black riding crop at Fire, and I want to reach for it. “I’m trying to protect you. It’s the Meralos, the Accardis, you need to fear. Not… me. Explain.”
She takes a deep breath and whispers, “Last night. It was… overwhelming. I’ve never done anything like that before, or had anyone do things like that to me.”
I think of that pretty, perfect, sweet-tasting pussy of hers. “You were so wet. You loved it. You wanted more.”
A pretty rose blush blooms on her cheeks. “I can’t deny that. But it scared me all the same.”
“What do you think you’re going to do? Go back to the Accardis?”
“If they’ll have me. I was good at that job. I’d like to see that house clean. I’ll apologize, beg them to take me back—”
Fury floods me. It takes every ounce of my self-control to not grab her, shake her, shout. “Do you want to know what was in that package? The one your precious Accardis gave you to deliver?”
“What?”
“A kilo of cocaine.”
I let that sink in for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “You think they’re protecting you, sending you out with something like that? To take to the man in charge of the entire country. Send you into my club—”Breathe, Cannon.I lower my voice. “Send you into my club, when everyone in Italy knows that there are no drugs allowed in my club, with cocaine. They were using you. They were using you to irk me or send me some kind of message. I don’t know why they did it, but they knew, Antonio knew when he sent you to Fire with that poison. He knew there was no way in hell it was going to get by my guys.”
