How to Kill Your Boss (21 page)

Lost in thought, I didn’t hear Franklin enter the room. The blankets lifted and the mattress sunk behind me. My temperature spiked. Warm breath touched my shoulder. He grabbed my hip to pull me toward him. He pressed his lips to mine, urging them to part. Craving his kiss, I let him in. His tongue slid across mine, shooting currents of pleasure to every nerve ending.

He cupped a breast and rolled the hardened peak, pinching and pulling just to the point of painful. He slid his hand toward my sex and I couldn’t stop my hips from curling into him with anticipation, begging for the strong fingers that knew where to touch softly and exactly where to apply perfect, blissful pressure.

I gasped when he pressed his palm against my sensitive nub and slid a finger inside me. My head arched back into the pillow when he pulled it out, scraping sensitive tissue. He released my lips and peppered kisses across my exposed throat.

When he pushed back inside me, I whimpered and clenched around him. Squeezing my thighs together, I rocked against his hand.

Franklin chuckled. “Do you still hate me?”

I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe through the need. He removed his hand from between my thighs, leaving me wanting, and slid his wet fingers up my stomach, over my breast to my neck. He cupped my chin and forced my mouth back to his, taking a taste before pulling away.

His eyes brightened with hunger and a deep certitude that our destinies were entwined. It made my breath catch. He whispered against my lips. “It’s always been you.”

He sucked my bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled before letting go. “It will always be you,” he groaned, pressing a knee between my legs and rolling on top of me. “Love me, hate me. I don’t fucking care. Just be with me. As long as you’re with me.” He laid his weight across my body, slid his hands over my arms, then locked fingers with mine, pressing our fists into the mattress at my shoulders.

I liquefied beneath his hard muscles. Franklin raised his hips and positioned himself between my legs. With soft steady strokes, he rubbed his erection up and down my folds, coating himself in the moisture that’d formed there.

“Do you want me inside you?” he asked, voice strained.

God, I did. I’d never wanted anything more. So many emotions churned through me. Anger and hurt for all the lies, fear for my life and the future, envy because he’d known my father more intimately than I had, but more than anything, lust. I’d never coveted anything or anyone the way I did this man.

The tip of his erection lingered at my opening. “Do you want all of me, Killer?”

I ached, down there where he teased with his cock. I did want him, dammit, the beautiful parts, the dark mysterious parts, the ugly parts—and wanting him seemed wrong. Wanting him meant I was every bit as messed up as he was.

I pondered the battle scars on his face. I’d put them there. He’d marred me, too. My wounds were hidden, but painful nonetheless. I wouldn’t let them break me. “I hate you. I hate you with every ounce of my being. I loathe how you make me ache so deep I fear I’m dying. I detest the control you have over my body. I’m repulsed by my need for you. I hate you. But mostly, I hate that despite everything, I can’t shake you, and I don’t want to. I want you. All of—”

Franklin shut me up with a bruising kiss. Then he pushed inside me with one slow, steady, delicious stroke. I clamped my legs around his thighs and blinked away the stars dancing in my field of vision.

He released my hands and cupped my face. “I love you too, baby. I love you, too.”

His words cut as deep as the first time he’d said them. They settled nice and tight in my chest, claiming a permanent home.

I pressed my lips to his and rocked my hips. “Show me, then.” I reached down and dug my nails into his firm ass and pulled him tighter against me.

Franklin needed no further prompting. He skipped the slow build-up and got right to the hard pounding, relenting only when my insides tightened around him. With the first spasm, he stopped and rolled to his back, pulling me on top of him.

“Put your hands on my chest,” he ordered.

I obliged.

Gripping my hips, he plunged inside me again. “Oh shit,” I yelped, arching my back. He’d never been so deep and I stiffened, fearing I couldn’t accommodate him.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” Sliding his hands behind his head, he flashed his killer smile and raked my body with a gaze hot enough to melt a steal beam, and hell if that didn’t turn my insides to molten lava.

I’d never been on top before and he must’ve read the uncertainty on my face. “Lean forward and move your hips,” he commanded.

I tilted my body toward his and rocked against him.

“Yeah, like that.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “Slow, baby. Oh hell, you’re killing me.” His hands shot to my ass with a stinging slap.

Slow? Did I have another choice? He filled me so completely I could hardly move. In that position, merely taking a breath caused enough friction to have me on the brink of another orgasm.

I stared down into his sex-glazed eyes and moved with lazy, wanton thrusts. His expression, so hungry and possessive, made my heart hurt, and I wanted nothing more than to give him everything I had both physical and emotional, every last drop of me.

I found a steady rhythm and when my thighs burned from exertion and I slowed, Franklin sat upright, snaked his arms around me and claimed my mouth. I came hard and screamed into his kiss. His body trembled with his own release and he buried his face in my neck and whispered, “Holy fucking shit. Do you feel that? Do you feel how perfect we are? How could I ever let you go?”

* * * *

“What now?” I asked, twisting my fingers through his chest hair.

Franklin rolled to his side and traced figure eights over the curve of my rump. “I kill the fuckers.” His words didn’t match the playful grin on his face.

I smacked his ass. “C’mon. Be serious.”

He flopped onto his back and clasped his hands behind his head. “I’m waiting for the call. Then I’m taking them out.”

“Oh.” He was serious.

“You know who they are?” I asked, unsuccessfully hiding the panic in my voice.

“Yes. The Salazars sent a handful of their goons. Didn’t know how to find them until they shot at you. Idiots left a trail wider than the Grand Canyon.”

“You have to kill them?” I knew the answer before the question left my lips.

“Tate. These assholes killed Tony. Now they’re after you. They left us with few options.”

“Does it have to be you?” I asked, terrified of the answer.

“What do you think?”

I sat up and pulled the sheet around me. “I know you can’t tell me things. I get that. I won’t be pushy. Honestly, I don’t want to know. My brain would pop like a gluttonous tick. But please, to ease my conscience, tell me you’re fighting for the good guys? It’s not drug lords or mafia or anything like that, right?”

I expected him to laugh at my naivety. He didn’t. He turned his head and smiled, eyes dancing with deep adoration. “Fuck, baby. You’re as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. I do bad things to despicable people for the good guys. We’re known as Rogues. Regional Operations Ghost Unit Elite.”

“Like black ops or secret service?” I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation.

“No. Not quite. We’re a private entity, not bound by the laws of the government, but under their protection. We step in when there are no options left and do the ugly work while their hands stay clean.”

“If you’re so elite, how does the cartel know about my dad? How did they find out about the list?”

“I don’t know, love. It kills me to admit, but either someone ratted him out, or he screwed up, which doesn’t make sense. He never made mistakes.” Franklin shook his head and bit his bottom lip. For a moment, he disappeared, perhaps behind a memory or a thought. The vacant expression on his face unsettled me.

“There’s another thing I don’t understand,” I said and continued before he could respond. “You said they wanted to draw my dad out because they think he’s alive, right?”

Franklin mumbled, “Yes”.

“So why would they shoot at me? If they killed me, I wouldn’t be useful to them anymore.”

He cussed under his breath. “To send a message. They missed on purpose.” The mood in the room shifted, like a dark force swept in and devoured the positive energy.

A chill crept over me. “This is so messed up.” How did my dad keep this from us? Mom would’ve— Oh shit. Mom.

“Oh my God, my mother? Is she in danger? Does she know? We have to call her. We have to make sure—”

Franklin sat up, cupped my cheeks, and pulled me nose to nose, shooting a reassuring glare right through my peepers. “Your mom and grandpa are safe. They’re under twenty-four-seven protection. Always have been.”

I clutched his wrists like a lifeline. “Always? Since when?”

“Since the day Tony was murdered.”

“And someone’s been assigned to me since that day?”

He sighed. “Yeah, baby.”

“You?”

Franklin released my cheeks. “No, not until the rumors Tony was alive started to circulate. Two months ago, I was put in charge.”

Things were starting to make sense. “Is that why you came to work at Cruse Investigations?”

He nodded.

“Does that mean Wallace knew?”

“He knew. He was one of us. Poor bastard couldn’t handle the life. Retired when he took over your dad’s company.”

“Who was the poor bloke assigned before you?”

“Baby, you weren’t going to demand every detail, remember?”

I chewed on my thumbnail. Strangers knew every facet of my life. Kept vigil. Babysat. How could they have been close enough to keep me safe without showing themselves? Was I that dense? Dad taught me to pay attention to my surroundings, especially the people around me. Realization hit me, and it was a bitch slap.

Oh. My. God.

The weight of a falling tree hit my chest. “Jacob Smart,” I shouted. “It was him, wasn’t it? They tried to kill him, didn’t they? Because of me.”

Franklin sat up and pulled me into his lap. He slid his hands under my jaw then to the back of my head and held my face inches from his. “Listen, Tatum. He failed you. Got it? None of this is your fault. Don’t let thoughts like that in your head, not even a little bit, because they burrow in and grow like a damned cancer.”

He knew from experience. It was evident by the shimmer of his eyes and the deep set of his stress wrinkles.

“Hoodie man? Was that you?” I wasn’t sure if I could handle the answer. Would I be able to look at Franklin the same way if he’d committed such a gruesome act?

He nodded, his eyes glazed and his voice took a dark tone. “He came back for you. I couldn’t just make him disappear. I had to send a message.”

No. This was too much. I tried to crawl off him. He held me tight. “Please, Tate. You have to understand, this is personal for me. First Tony, then you….” He shook his head. “Don’t be afraid of me. Sometimes, the things I have to do, they’re necessary evils.”

A real man does whatever it takes to protect the women in his life.

His words from the night before spun in my head. Vile as the act was to me, I couldn’t imagine how heavy the burden on his shoulders. The weight of guilt and responsibility had to be unbearable.
My heart shattered for him. I forced a smile and raised a hand to his beautiful, sad face, tracing the lines across his furrowed brow. Leaning forward, I dusted my lips against his. “You loved my dad, didn’t you?”

He squeezed his lids shut and nodded.

I kissed the tip of his nose. “You’re so much like him. He’d be proud.”

Franklin’s shoulders slumped, his hands falling to his sides.

I kissed the bruise under his eye, then the scratches I’d carved in his cheek. I curled my legs around his waist. “I’m sorry I attacked you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted.

“I wanted you to hurt like I did.”

“I know.” He could’ve teased or chastised me for the violent outburst. He could’ve played the victim card. He didn’t.

His erection swelled beneath me, tickling my rump. I sighed, squeezed my legs tighter, wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged like my life depended on it. “I hate you so much.”

He chuckled. “No you don’t.”

“I do. I really, really do,” I muttered.

Then, I showed him how much.

My hair flowed around me, silken and shiny, in soft, perfect waves that flapped in sync with the American flag perched high atop the skyscraper behind me. I assumed the victory stance with feet apart, hands fisted at my hips, chin held high, and watched the little people skitter about twenty stories below. Each of them clueless to the perils lurking around every corner.

I knew the dangers all too well. I had an intimate relationship with the dark side and I’d sworn to fight to my death to keep it at bay, away from the hordes of normalcy.

I wiped a tear of pride from my cheek and turned to the man coiled in golden rope, wiggling on the cold cement like an earthworm searching for soil.

“Mr. Cruse. You’ve been a bad, bad man.” I stepped off the ledge and swung my hips with confident strides until I stood over him. “You’ve lied, cheated, weaseled money from the people who trusted you during their darkest hours. For what?”

I laughed because he couldn’t answer me. He tried, but the rag I’d stuffed down his throat made even a mumble impossible.

The rooftop door swung open. Nan burst through, followed by Mrs. Montgomery and Detective Waters. “Nan, Dahlia. You’re just in time,” I cackled. “Leland. Arrest this sleaze-bag before I throw him over the edge.”

“No!” Nan shouted. “I love him. I love him….”

Moist lips tickled my jaw. “Time to get up, baby.” God, I loved waking to the sound of Franklin’s voice.

I laughed and wiped drool from my cheek. I must’ve slept hard. Franklin rose from the bed and buttoned his shirt. “What were you laughing about?”

I rubbed a crusty chunk from my eye and sat up. “I had another dream. Hey! I didn’t kill him this time, just tied him up with my golden rope.”

I expected a laugh or lewd comment. When it didn’t come, I knew something was up. “What’s going on?” I asked.