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My new knowledge makes me even more anxious to hurry up and have her with me. I call my captain to get an update on where we are with Doyle’s slimy ass. “I don't care what you have to do. We need to catch this fucker pronto,” I snap at him, irritated that we're the most powerful crime organization in the world with more resources than the fucking President of the United States, yet we can't seem to pinpoint one Irish motherfucker—an Irish motherfucker who is getting in the way of me claiming my little tesoro for myself.
I don't know how long I watch her as she falls asleep immediately after her orgasm. She lays with the covers still thrown off of her, her tank top ridden up to expose an expanse of smooth stomach. I can still see the wet spot staining her little cotton panties and my cock starts getting hard all over again.
Fuuuck. I’m going to have a permanent case of blue balls before this is all said and done.
I can't catch that motherfucking Doyle soon enough.
I stroke a finger over Grace’s sleeping form on the screen. Soon, tesoro. Just hold on. I will come for you soon.
It's a week before I get to see my little tesoro in the flesh again. Doyle is wreaking so much havoc throughout our city that it takes all my time, attention, and resources to try to contain the mess he's making. So, I have to content myself with watching my little Gracie over camera feeds.
It's not enough, though, and I'm jonesing for another hit. I need to smell her fresh berry scent and feel her petal soft skin underneath my fingertips to tide me over.
She's locking up again tonight. I've already snuck into the massage parlor ready to surprise her. She goes over to shut and lock the door, but a man hurries up to it and knocks. She must know him because she opens the door.
I clench my jaw as I watch their interaction. “Hey, babe,” he greets her. I grind my molars together at the endearment. How does she know this fucker?
“Can I help you, John?” she asks, peering up at him. The fucker is tall but not as tall as me and not nearly as bulky.
“Yeah,” he grins down at her, his eyes raking over her delectable little body. My fists clench now with the sudden urge to rip those eyeballs from his head so he’ll never be able to look at mi princesa that way again. “I need to book something. I didn't know if I would get here in time.”
“You know you can always book with us over the phone or through the app,” she points out.
He shrugs like the entitled asshole he is. “I know, but I was in the area and thought it would be easier just to walk in here and do it personally.”
Oh, I bet you did, asshat. My lip curls up into a snarl.
Grace turns around and motions him to come to the desk. “Well, we’re technically closed, but since you're already here, let me pencil you in. Who are you wanting to see?”
“Well, seeing as how you still don’t give massages, I guess Rachel will do.” He winks at her flirtatiously. That’s it. This fucker is dead.
She smiles at him cordially but doesn’t flirt back. Good girl. Her lack of interest calms me a bit.
It’s quiet as she jots something down on a post-it note, the only sound in the parlor the light scratching of the pen across the paper. “Okay, I've got you written down. I'll put it in the computer in the morning. I've already closed everything out tonight.”
“No problem, baby,” he says as he takes a step toward her. I grind my teeth again in irritation. So, we’ve gone from babe to baby now?
He continues walking toward her, and I see her eyes widen as he comes around the desk. “Is there anything else I can help you with, John?” The trepidation is clear in her voice. She’s starting to pick up on the fact that this motherfucker isn’t just here to book an appointment.
“Yeah, there is,” he tells her as he licks his lips, a lascivious look in his eyes. “You could agree to that date I've been asking you to go on for forever.”
I’m fucking furious now. So, she knows this asshole is interested in her? He’s asked her out before, yet she still let him in here tonight when she’s all alone? I’m pissed as hell she put herself in danger this way.
She sighs and takes a step back, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, John, but I’ve told you every time you’ve asked. I'm not interested.”
John's not taking no for an answer, though. I can read the intent clear as day in his eyes even if she can't. He reaches out a hand and touches her arm, and that's when I lose it. I don't think. I just react. I pull the gun from my breast pocket and wordlessly step from the shadows. I fire the gun. The man screams and clutches at his arm, wailing like a little girl as he crumbles to his knees.
Grace gasps and whips around in the direction the shot came from, her eyes widening when she sees me standing there. “You!”
“We’re really going to have to work on you remembering my name, tesoro.” My voice is dry, but I’m so angry I’m beyond livid.
“Why did you shoot him?” She's indignant on his behalf, and a surge of jealousy surges through me, hot and pulsing.
“He put his hands on you,” I growl. “Nobody touches what's mine.”
Her mouth parts, but she doesn't step away from me whenever I close the distance between us and place a firm grip on her arm. I look down at the piece of shit still squirming and writhing in pain on the floor in front of us.
“It's just a flesh wound,” I reassure him nonchalantly. “You'll live if you forget everything that happened here tonight—most importantly, if you forget you ever knew Grace Birmingham. You got that?”
