Guardian For Hire: A For Hire Novel (14 page)

“I…” she started, and he got on his knees, reaching to massage both of her breasts, and his mouth traveled lower, uninhibited by her lack of panties.

His tongue flicked against her bud, and he looked up at her, his chin resting against the light trail of hair that led to her center. “Yes?” he asked, his hands gripping her waist.

“Yes,” she whispered, part of her wanting to resist, but the bigger part knowing, one way or another, their time together was coming to a close. She blinked back the hot rush of tears and let herself sink into the moment.

His tongue entered her again, tracing her folds before dipping inside of her, then pulling back and toying with her clit once more. She wanted to scream, to lose herself in his touch. Each time was more electric that the last, and the way his tongue moved against her was building to a full-on power surge. It was too much for one woman to bear.

He gripped her waist and pushed her back so that her bottom was atop the dresser, then moved to spread her legs wider. His tongue pulsed slowly, then quicker, and slowly again until she was banging her head against the wall, nearing the point of physical explosion. Her lip might bleed if she bit down on it any harder, but the hot, iron taste in her mouth would be worth it, so worth it for even a fraction of what he did to her.

“Gavin,” she moaned, and his response was to slip two fingers inside of her, working them up and down until her body made the dresser shake beneath her. “Oh, oh,” she cried, and he worked faster, plunging his digits in and out while his tongue continued to work against her.

“I want to be inside you.” He bit gently on her inner thigh. “But I want to watch you come first.”

Her walls shuddered at the words, tightening to meet his command as he licked her wet sex. He fingered her deeper and faster, pushing her over the edge until she was free-falling, a flush rising through her breasts and settling in her cheeks. She released her bottom lip, finally unleashing the scream she’d been holding on to for so long.

Her toes curled around him, resting on the hard muscle of his thighs as her body convulsed with pleasure.

“Ah, that’s what I want. You’re so sexy when you come.”

“Now it’s your turn.” She licked her upper lip and pushed him off of her gently with her foot.

He complied, yanking off his trousers as he stood, and her mouth hung open for a second as she took in his hard length. It didn’t matter how often she’d seen it before. Every time she beheld him was more impressive than the last. She moved to slide from the wood surface, to resume her familiar place in the middle of his mattress, but he cornered her on the dresser, pressing himself against her as he kissed her earlobe again.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was hungry and deep. When he pulled back to kiss her, his lips were red and plump from his hard work, still slick with her. She bit gently on his bottom lip as her mouth closed over it, inviting his tongue with her own. His thickness pulsed at her kiss, and she smiled at the reaction.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded, and she followed orders. His fingers dug into her bottom as he lifted her from the dresser. Still, his kisses never ceased as he carried her across the room and her back connected with the cold wall. He had her absolutely pinned, her nipples pressed hard against his own, the heat of his member grinding against her aching sex.

With one arm, he propped her body against the wall, and with the other he pulled back, gripping himself and guiding his way inside her. He groaned, growing even harder as he buried himself deeper. “You’re so fucking wet,” he ground out.

Her walls quaked at his entry, sending a jolt of pleasure through her every nerve as he worked in and out of her. The mirror on the wall shook with their effort, but it was all peripheral. The thing could have shattered into a million pieces on top of her for all she cared. She was in sexual paradise, and his body was her island.

His eyes were dark and hungry as he kneaded her bottom, pulling her hips into each of his thrusts with a demanding growl.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, clawing at his back to keep herself aloft. Her fingernails dug into his skin, and she could already spy angry red marks along his shoulder blades. It only seemed to excite him more, though, and what little restraint he had left disappeared. He slammed her body against the wall, nearly knocking the wind out of her. His love was greedy, rough, and gripping, and nothing had ever felt so good.

Her breasts bounced against her as he worked her up and down, her hips slamming against him in equal time. Again, she ran her nails down his back, and he dug his thumbs into her hips in response. Already, she could feel the bruises that would be there by morning, and it only heightened the sweet ached building between her thighs. Her back arched, leading him deeper inside her.

“Sarabeth,” he rasped, low at first, then louder.

That was what pushed her over the edge. His voice in tandem with the waves of pleasure he sent through her with every thrust—it had all been building toward this screaming crescendo.

“Oh, Gavin.” Her body exploded, every part of her shaking with ecstasy. She clung to his back, her calves hooked tighter around him, and she threw herself into it, demanding he work faster and harder, needing to feel every delicious motion to its absolute fullest until she couldn’t feel anything anymore.

When it was over, he carried her to the bed, carefully laying her down before pulling away. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and rolled to his feet, handing her a tissue before he began to dress.

“I was going to shower before I did all that,” she offered. “You can join me if you want.”

“I can’t. I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff again, and she realized that their lovemaking had shifted her focus. They’d been discussing something important, but her ears were still ringing, and it took a second to dredge up the memory.

“Where are you going?” she asked, bolting to sit upright when their conversation came back to her in a rush. “Tell me you’re not still seriously going to do this.”

He looked away and shook his head. “I won’t. At least, not the way you’re thinking. I’ve got an idea, though, and it needs more looking into.”

Relief flooded her until she realized they weren’t out of the woods yet. “Right now?” Her eyebrows shot up, and she leaned back on her elbows, flashing her breasts in hopes of getting him to abandon whatever crazy scheme he was planning, but he still wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“Yeah, and I have to go to the office for a bit. I won’t be long, okay? And I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

He zipped up his leather jacket and made for the door, pausing in the frame for a moment. He turned to her, his mouth hanging open for an instant, but in the next he snapped it shut and was on his way.

“Yeah, okay,” she called, but she’d already heard the echo of the downstairs entrance closing behind him.

At least now she knew where she stood.

You’ll be free to go.

Pain closed an icy fist around her heart as she made her way to the bathroom. At least she’d managed to convince him not to break into the evidence locker. He might not be falling for her the way she was for him, but that was something, at least.

Wasn’t it?

Chapter Thirteen

Gavin’s mind hummed with possibilities as he sped down the steps, taking them two at a time until he was finally out the door. He only had a few hours until he had to get to that pay phone, and now that Sarabeth effectively reminded him of all the reasons he shouldn’t do the job himself, he’d have to do things the hard way. The way Vito’s boy had thought he was going to do them in the first place. By dealing with the devil he knew to get out of dealing with the devil he didn’t.

He dialed his phone as he backed out of his driveway, using the one number he’d hoped he’d never need.

The phone rang three times before a hoarse male voice greeted him on the other end. “McClintock. Haven’t heard from you in a while, friend. You have a new case? Want to talk to the commissioner?”

“No, Joey, I called for you. I need a…favor.” Joey Wilkins was a cop so crooked that some of the more educated thugs referred to him as Joey Scoliosis. If there was one guy who was willing to do something shady for an extra buck, it was him. Vito’s crew had obviously gotten the line on him through the grapevine but couldn’t approach him directly for fear of a setup, so they’d decided to use Gavin as their broker. The only issue was that he’d been pretty vocal in his distaste of the man and his dealings in the past. Having to go to him for a favor was unpleasant, to say the least.

Whatever it takes to protect Sarabeth,
he reminded himself. Eating a helping of crow was infinitely better than attending a funeral.

There was a long pause. Gavin was about to ask if Joey was still on the line, but then the old man whispered, “Ah, how the mighty have fallen.”

“It’s not like that,” Gavin began.

“No, no, it never is. I understand. Believe me.” He let out a noise somewhere between a cough and chuckle, and the sound made Gavin’s stomach turn. “What can I help you with?”

“I need the tapes from The Healing Place evidence locker. Today.” He was already speeding toward his office, only seconds from the parking lot.

“Ah, so there’s a rush. Well, see, that’s a lot of work on short notice. Sounds like a pretty important deal.”

“It is.”

“Expensive, too.” Joey dropped the casual act and his true malevolence laced his every word, piercing and abrasive.

“I’d figured that.” Gavin parked and rushed toward the building, making his way toward his office with long, quick strides.

“Fifteen K and you can have them tomorrow,” Joey whispered, his voice muffled.

“Twenty, and I’ll be there for them in half an hour,” Gavin shot back.

“Look who’s playing hardball.” Joey laughed. “Thirty, if it’s gotta be a rush job. I’ve got a family to feed, friend.”

“Twenty grand should feed them fine. Especially since your family is you and your dog, Joe.”

The man on the other end of the receiver sniffed. “Twenty then. Forty-five minutes.”

Gavin glanced toward the clock hanging above his desk. Quarter after twelve.

“Done,” he said.

A dial tone buzzed in his ear, and he took it as a bargain well struck. He strode toward his bookcase and pressed hard on the spine of
Oliver Twist,
and the bookcase descended into the floorboards, revealing a large metal safe hidden behind it. He tapped the touch-screen digital interface and the vault decompressed, swinging itself open. There was the small jewelry box his mother had left him, the only thing he’d taken with him when he’d moved from Edinburgh, some important personal documents, and in the very center of the shining steel cavern were neatly stacked mounds of cash. He grabbed a stack and made quick work of sealing the remainder, ensuring that everything returned to normal before stuffing the money in his waiting black briefcase and barreling back out to the parking lot.

His phone buzzed, and an encrypted message from Joey lit the screen, instructing him to meet behind the Cooter Cabaret on the end of Hope Road. He sped off without another thought, all too relieved to have everything taken care of at long last. Sarabeth would be safe and sound, even if that meant he’d had to entrust someone else to do his dirty work.

While he waited in the alley behind the strip joint, three different women accosted him, asking if he’d like services in which the club apparently specialized in the back, and he dismissed each woman with a quick shake of the head. When Joey’s car rolled up, it was like a siren to the women, and they flocked to him, already opening the back door and climbing in as though his arrival were part of a well-practiced routine. The whole thing made him sick to his stomach.

Joey lumbered from his car, leaning against the driver’s seat with a girl who’d introduced herself to Gavin as Loretta, and Gavin laid on the horn as Joey was about to follow the woman inside. “All right, all right.” Joey waved him off, flapping his walrus flipper of an arm as he approached Gavin’s vehicle.

He patted his coat with a wink. “Have what I need?” Joey asked.

Gavin gave a single nod, extending the briefcase with one hand and holding out the other. Joey reached inside his jacket pocket for a long time, and finally pulled out several miniature cassette-sized tapes. He tossed them onto Gavin’s passenger seat and took the briefcase in one fluid motion.

“Are you sure this is all of them?”

The other man had the balls to look hurt. “Hey, if I’m going to take a job, I’m going to do it right.”

“If I find out—”

Joey smirked and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, save it, buddy. I already know. I like my life too much to risk it on something I don’t give a good shit about, you know? Those tapes don’t mean shit to anyone but you right now.”

If only that were true. But Gavin kept quiet.

“Well, it was a pleasure doing business, sir. You need something, you know where to find me.” Joey winked, lumbering over to Loretta with a sort of pelvic thrust that Gavin would have paid good money to unsee.

“Right.” He put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, relief warring with disgust, watching in his rearview mirror as the girls crowded around Joey. The man was an absolute piece of shit, but there was nothing to be done about it. He couldn’t stop guys like that from doing bad. Hell, he couldn’t
really
stop Vito DeSalvo, but if he was going to be damned certain of one thing, it would be Sarabeth’s safety. And with that in mind, he pounded on the gas, bolting toward his house to finish his work before five o’clock.

Sarabeth was settled on the couch when he came crashing through the front door, tapes in hand.

“Are you—” she called, stepping through the hall to meet him at the door. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, and the urge to slip his fingers onto the the dark strands washed over him for a minute. Instead, he shook himself to the present, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

“How did you get those?” Her eyes widened, her mouth hanging open the slightest bit while the color drained from her face. “I thought you said you wouldn’t do it?” she whispered, her lashes downturned so that he could no longer meet her gaze.

“I said
I
wouldn’t do it. And I didn’t. The rest is irrelevant.” He opened the door to the basement, motioning for her to walk ahead of him. She complied without comment.

“I don’t really know what to say.”

“Nothing
to say. Now that we have the tapes, you’re almost free of this. But before we turn these over, we need to make ourselves some insurance.”

She shuffled into his office and he followed suit, closing the door behind them before winding around to the computer and popping in the specialized cassette tray on his desktop. The tape whirred, making zipping sounds as the strands of film wound to the right spot. He opened his digital upload software and set the program in motion, burning everything playing on the screen onto a DVD.

Vito would get the copies. The real tapes would be kept with Gavin, a bartering chip to ensure Sarabeth’s—and everyone else’s—safety.

“I wonder what’s on there.” Sarabeth had been standing behind him, her arms crossed over her chest, watching him as he worked.

“Maybe he fell into the same trap that everyone else did. He was cheating on his wife with the dance instructor or the massage therapist and doesn’t want it coming back to him.”

“You think a mob boss is afraid of people finding out he cheats on his wife?”

He looked over his shoulder, and her mouth was tilted in a thoughtful slant. She narrowed her eyes, lost in thought. “That doesn’t seem right to me.”

Funny, because it hadn’t seemed right to him either. But the other possibility—that Vito had committed a crime on film, maybe even a violent one—was giving him twinges of conscience that he didn’t want to feel. What if there was a murder on those tapes? Could he really squash that information? And if Sarabeth saw something like that, would she even allow it?

Please, let it be anything but that.

He kept his tone matter-of-fact. “Would you want your spouse to find out you were cheating?” he asked.

“No, but what’s she going to do? She’s a mob wife. It’s almost expected in that sort of situation. I mean, have you ever seen anything associated with the Mafia that didn’t at least have one affair? Prostitute or otherwise? I don’t think I have. No…something else is going on here.” She leaned against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

Time to roll the dice and hope that they caught a break this time. “Let’s play the tapes, then. Find out what happened.”

He pulled a photo of Vito from the file Maddy had left with him the week before. He’d studied the picture until it was ingrained in his memory—a short, portly man with a handlebar mustache and tired eyes. In the mug shot Maddy had pulled, he looked as though he was starting to form jowls, but by the time he’d gotten to The Healing Place, Gavin imagined they would have been fully developed facial flaps.

He tapped open the recordings and sped through the tapes until he spotted the man in question. When he found him, he was in a room with a tall, curvaceous woman beside him. He was probably nearing his early sixties, but the woman beside him couldn’t have been more than thirty. She was a busty lady, with huge ringlets resting against her shoulders. The rest of her body was generally obscured by the distracting swell of her chest. In a chair kitty-corner from them, talking quietly with clipboard in hand, was a slight woman with a long blond ponytail trailing down her back. Sarabeth.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Yes, I remember them. Although they didn’t check in under the name DeSalvo. Her name was Sheree and he called himself Emilio, last name Direnzio.” Her face clouded, and she swallowed hard.

“Sorry, we can skip ahead, I only thought—”

“No, it’s okay. It’s better. It’ll help.” She cleared her throat. “He didn’t seem like the type to cheat on her. He adored her. I’d never seen a man fawn more over his wife.” Her cheeks colored, but she continued. “Except maybe Owen with Lindy. Although, I haven’t seen a lot of loving families, so, maybe my judgment isn’t the best on that score.” She laughed a hollow, humorless laugh, and his stomach turned. He wanted to throw his arms around her and pull her to him, but there was no time for comforting her. Not yet.

“We’ll skip ahead.” He fast-forwarded, surveying the dance studio in one instant, and the massage parlor in the next. Sometimes the scenes featured couples together; others featured more compromising positions for the people therein.

“Wait, stop.” She grasped his shoulder, and he paused the screen, the video stopping to reveal a woman with a mess of blond curls in the gym, a muscled young instructor grasping her wrist and helping her pull a weight toward her chest. Then, he took the weight from her gently and settled it on the floor by her feet. He swung her around to face him and kissed her once, lightly, before her arms circled around him to pull him deeper into the embrace. The tape continued on, and it became clear exactly why Vito DeSalvo thought these tapes would be bad for business.

He wasn’t a cheater at all.

His wife was.

“Ohhhh…” Sarabeth murmured. “That’s Marcel with her. I guess that explains why he killed him. And maybe Nico for masterminding the whole thing. Still, that’s a long way to go over jealousy. And it doesn’t explain Liza…”

“I think he was probably more worried about his street cred than jealousy. Who goes to the cuckold in a business like theirs? To guys like that, it’s all about power. The strongest thrive and the weak get picked off. If he can’t even keep his woman in line, sure as shit there will be a line of guys waiting to take his spot ruling an empire. It’s emasculating.”

As they watched, though, it got a whole lot worse.

“Tell me what you like, gorgeous,” Marcel murmured, tugging the shirt over Sheree’s head.

“Baby, just the fact that I didn’t walk in to find you wearing one of my dresses and heels puts you head and shoulders above my husband.” She let out a cruel, humorless laugh, and that last bit of uncertainty lodged in Gavin’s gullet faded away.

Now
that
was worth killing for if you were a man like Vito. Once his wife had found out about the scam and knew the tapes had been taken, she must have confessed to having both the affair and the conversation that would seal his fate in a community of tough guys. They would surely balk at taking orders from a man who dressed like a woman behind closed doors, and his whole world would come crumbling down around him. “But why you? This is obviously the first you’re seeing of this.”