The Mobster’s Masseuse Page 3

  Even with his pale face pinched and sneering, he still gives me the usual lecherous once over, his gaze lingering on my breasts, before launching into his tirade. “Who the fuck is that goon outside?” He drops his coffee onto the Carla’s desk and we share a discreet eye roll. “He had the nerve to ask for identification. Outside of my spa!”

  “So…” I cough a little. “Did he mention why he’s there?”

  “No. He told me to mind my own goddamn business. After interrogating me about mine!” Randall paces. “I should call the cops.”

  “Maybe he is the cops?” Carla suggests. “Undercover or something?”

  I send Carla a grateful look. She’s good people.

  Randall snorts. “Cops don’t usually have neck tattoos.” He rubs at his jaw, reining himself in with a dramatic sigh. “How is business today?”

  “Great.” Carla flips through the book. “I’ve made several bookings.”

  “I’m just waiting for my last client,” I add, with a bright smile, rising from my chair and heading for the back hallway. “I’m going to go set up.”

  Randall leans a little too close as I pass, his tongue snaking out to wet his fleshy lower lip. “Need some help?”

  Voluntarily put myself in a dark room with this dickhead? Not a chance. “No, thank you. I’m fine on my own.”

  After his encounter with my bodyguard, Randall must feel the need to recapture the upper hand, because he doesn’t take the hint. Instead he follows me down the hallway, far too closely for comfort. I speed up, intending to slam the door of my massage room in his face and lock it, but before I reach the entrance, his hand slides into my right back pocket and squeezes my butt cheek.

  Indignation crowding in my throat, I turn on a dime, fists balled at my sides. “What are you doing, Randall?”

  To my horror, he’s holding my check from Walker. It’s pinched between his thumb and forefinger, confusion blanketing his features. “What’s this?” Before I can grab the check, he unfolds it, eyes gaping. “Holy shit. A hundred thousand dollars? Where the hell…who the hell?”

  Again, I reach for the check, but he evades my grasp. “Give it back.”

  Disgust slowly replaces his confusion. “Walker McManus?” He waves the piece of paper between us. “Have you been using my spa to whore yourself out to the fucking mob?”

  “What?” I laugh at the ludicrousness of that question. “Of course I haven’t.”

  He seems almost excited by the pieces he thinks he’s putting together. “That big prick out on the sidewalk. He’s there for you, isn’t he?”

  I scratch my eyebrow. “Um…no?”

  His laugh is derisive. “You must be some lay if McManus himself is coming here to tap you. To put one of his goons on protection duty. And pay this much for a ride of that—”

  “Watch yourself,” I interrupt, shaking. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. I’m a certified massage therapist. I have this job because I’m amazing at what I do.”

  “Amazingly arrogant.”

  I shrug one shoulder. “Confidence isn’t a crime.”

  His upper lip curls, like he’s going to insult me, but he changes tack instead. I back up as he saunters forward, blatantly checking me out in a way that makes me wish for a steaming hot shower. “All right, honey. I’ll let you continue this little fuck for cash operation in my spa, but I want something out of the deal.”

  My back flattens on the wall and a shiver of nervousness courses through me. “There is no deal.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” He reaches a hand toward my breast and I smack it away. “Come on, Meadow. I’ll let you service McManus on my massage tables and you let me sample the goods, whenever I feel like it.” His features arrange in a resentful smirk. “Why should he get something I can’t have? He’s not better than me.”

  “Don’t come any closer,” I whisper, wishing like hell my muscles were as big as my temper, so I could body slam this jerk. But alas, he has a few inches on me and several pounds, though his body is soft, where Walker’s is hard. I’m still not sure I could fight off my boss. We’re halfway through the hour, so no one will emerge from the massage rooms for another thirty minutes. I should scream for help. I know I should, but I will get fired. And I don’t want to lose this job.

  For all Randall’s disgusting qualities, he’s tenacious. I know he won’t rest until he bad mouths me to every spa in Boston. My résumé won’t be considered anywhere if I get fired from my first job after three weeks.

  I think of Walker. He would help me.

  But do I want that help? Do I want to rely on this man I’ve just met when I’ve worked so hard to rely on no one but myself?

  There’s the check, of course. That kind of money would carry me quite a way until I could figure out my next move. Maybe I could even open my own massage studio. I don’t know anything about running a business, but I can learn.

  He mistakes my calm for resignation. “What’s it going to be, Meadow?”

  I knee him in the junk. Hard enough that his eyes bulge out and he doubles forward. “Son of a bitch,” he wheezes.

  I try to snatch the check out of his hand, but he rips it to shreds.

  “No,” I gasp, falling to my knees, trying to rake up the check with trembling fingers. “You didn’t. You didn’t.”

  Randall twists an angry fist in my collar and yanks me to my feet, slamming me up against the wall. Lights blink in front of my eyes. “Oh, you’re definitely giving it up now, bitch—”

  Loud footsteps and the sound of a gun cocking cut off whatever Randall is going to say next. His body turns slightly and I can see my bodyguard looming behind him, blocking out all the light in the hallway. Carla peeks in from the receptionist area and I know in my bones she’s the one who alerted my savior.

  “Hands off the girl,” my bodyguard booms, shaking his head. “You just made a big mistake, asshole.”

  I’m not sticking around to witness the fallout.

  The fight or flight adrenaline is slowly draining, leaving nothing but shocked anger. This whole situation was wrought by my bad decision.

  And that bad decision was Walker McManus.

  Pushing to my feet shakily, I quickly retrieve my purse from the locked cabinet in my massage room and wheel back into the hallway, vaulting over his prone form.

  “Hold on, now,” the bodyguard says, sounding nervous. “I’m going to need you to stay put, miss.”

  “Sorry, no can do.” I swipe at the embarrassing moisture forming in my eyes. “I’m out. And please tell Mr. Walker I mean that in every sense. I’m out.”

  “You’re also fired!” Randall shouts at me as I exit, turning quickly at the sidewalk and hurrying toward a shortcut through an ice cream shop’s back exit, in case the bodyguard is on my trail. I make it home within ten minutes and throw myself face down on my twin bed.

  I can’t believe I let this happen.

  I can’t believe I escaped a life of nonstop trouble and struggling only to throw myself right back into the ring.

  What am I going to do?

  Well I know one thing. I’m staying the hell away from Walker McManus.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Walker

  My men know to be most scared of me when I speak quietly.

  And I’m speaking very, very quietly right now.

  “Gone?”

  Rage steels my muscles. The likes of which I’ve never known. I’m not sure what I’ve walked into here, but I don’t like it. I don’t like the sputtering man sitting on the floor with his hands zip tied behind his back. I don’t like the way the receptionist looks so nervous. I hate that Meadow isn’t here where I left her. Yeah, that’s going to be a huge problem for someone.

  Someone is going to pay.

  “What the fuck do you mean, ‘she’s gone’?”

  Gregory, the man I trusted to guard Meadow, one of my most reliable employees, shifts in his size fifteen loafers. “It happened fast. I wasn’t sure whether I should stay with him.
” He points to the short, sniveling guy on the floor. “Or go after the girl. She wasn’t injured much, so I knew she’d be okay. And I suspected you’d want to question this—”

  I hold up a hand, my voice emerging choked. “She wasn’t injured much? MUCH?” I bellow. “You better not be serious.”

  “I’m not sure what happened, boss,” Gregory says quickly. “I carded him. Randall Tate. He checked out as the owner. Next thing I know, the receptionist runs out telling me to come quick. When I make it inside, the girl—Meadow—was on the floor trying to get away from Tate. I put a stop to it, but she ran…”

  Denial sweeps me, leaving volcanic lava in its wake.

  Meadow. On the ground? Attacked?

  I’ll never forgive myself for leaving her in danger. If I’d known she had to fear her boss, I would have taken a wrecking ball to this building—with him still inside of it—before I ever let her return here. The fact that she spent a single second afraid has woken a beast inside of me and he’s scratching, wanting to explode out. To wreak havoc and seek vengeance.

  Tate immediately silences when I train my focus on him, his skin turning a chalky pale. “You,” I whisper. “You’re already dead.” Without taking my attention off of him, I point at the receptionist. “You. The story. Now.”

  It pours out of her, like she’s just been waiting for her turn to speak. “He—Randall—never leaves Meadow alone. He’s always hitting on her and…she hates it. She can usually avoid him, but today he followed her into the hallway and I heard them arguing. Randall found some check in her pocket and he was under the impression it meant…well, that she was—”

  “Your whore,” Randall spat. “That’s what.”

  My almighty wrath makes me shake. I’m always calm. Always keep a clear head. But I swear I could breathe fire right now. Unwanted thoughts careen against the walls of my skull. My Meadow. In fear. Disrespected. Not here for me to confirm she’s okay. I can’t stand it. And my rage propels me toward Randall where I knock him out cold with a right hook to the side of his head.

  He falls to the side. I wish he was still conscious, so I could hit him again.

  “He ripped up the check…” the receptionist finishes in a hushed tone.

  Inconsequential. Meadow will never want for a dime as long as she lives. The check was a mere formality. I’ll write her a hundred more of them if it makes her happy.

  “Bring him to the den,” I manage around the pressure in my throat. “I’m not done with him.”

  Gregory moves fast, obviously grateful for the reprieve, though I’m far from done with the bodyguard, either. I would be sending a message to everyone in my employ that if Meadow was ever put in peril again, heads would fucking roll.

  As soon as Randall’s body is dragged out the exit of the spa, I carefully place a flattened palm on the receptionist’s desk, well aware that it’s shaking but unable to do anything about it. I’m going to be a wreck until Meadow is back in my arms. Or for however long it takes to forget my fear when I walked into this place and heard the words she’s gone.

  My hand curls into a fist and I barely resist slamming it down. “Meadow’s address. I need it. Immediately.”

  “Already wrote it down,” she says, handing me a slip of paper.

  Taking the note, I open my mouth and close it. “How…hurt was she? Is she really all right?”

  “Yes.” The girl nods. “Meadow might be short, but she’s a badass, Mr. McManus. If you don’t mind me saying so. N-not a mark on her.”

  I let out an unsteady breath and stow the address in my pocket, but not before I see my future wife lives in the shittiest of shitty buildings. As if I need any more years taken off my life today.

  I leave the receptionist with a thick wad of hundreds, thank her for her loyalty to Meadow and leave, climbing into the back of my waiting SUV and barking the address at my driver.

  Meadow would be safe in my bed, living in my home, by tonight.

  I’d soothe her, I’d reassure her, I’d vow to never let harm come to her again.

  I sure as shit didn’t expect her to be so opposed to my plans.

  “Meadow, open this goddamn door or I’ll break it down.”

  “I want you to leave,” she calls back from inside her apartment. “I’m not interested!”

  I don’t believe this. She won’t even see me.

  Her denial skewers me in the chest.

  “Look, I know you’re upset with me, gorgeous. But I never, ever would have left you in that place if I’d known you could get hurt.”

  “I’m not your responsibility. I knew what Randall was like—I’ve been dodging men like him my whole life. It’s nothing new.”

  I’m surprised my roar of outrage doesn’t bring down the building.

  “My decisions are my own and I made a bad one when I accepted that check from you. Now I’m fired, jobless and broke. But I would rather be that way than let someone take care of me. I can do that myself. I will do it.”

  I bang my head against the door. Of course the woman I fall in love with has an independent streak a mile wide when I’m a possessive, controlling bastard. From here on out, it’s going to be constant fireworks between me and this girl, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Meadow, baby,” I cajole. “Just open this door so I can make sure you’re okay. Huh? Don’t you know I lost my mind when I found out that fucker attacked you? Please. I need to see you.”

  All of that was the stone cold truth, but apparently demands weren’t going to make her open the damn door and I’ll need to employ a different method.

  “I’m fine,” she hedged. “Just go home and forget me, please.”

  “Forget you?” I near-shout, before reeling my temper back in. Doesn’t she realize I became her servant the moment she flashed her challenging eyes at me? The moment she dared to mouth off to me?

  “Open this door. Please. I just want to see for myself that you’re fine.”

  A short pause. “And then you’ll leave?”

  God will forgive me for this one white lie.

  Hopefully Meadow will, too.

  “Yeah. Then I’ll go.”

  I send a quick text to my men downstairs, telling them to watch the exits downstairs, in case Meadow tries to make a break for it at some point.

  Meadow opens the door and cocks an irritated hip, looking like fucking dessert in a tiny red romper, with ruffles and shit on it. She wasn’t lying. There are no visible injuries—thank God—but her eyes are puffy and I make a note to be extra vicious when I get my hands back on her ex-boss. No one makes my girl cry. “See?” Meadow says. “I’m fine—”

  Her statement ends in a squeal when I step into the apartment and throw her sexy package of a body over my shoulder. “Where’s your suitcase, gorgeous?”

  “You—you lied to me!”

  I start in the direction of the only other room in the place. “You think I’m going to leave you in this shit hole, Meadow?” I deliver a gentle slap to her ass, biting my lip over the resulting jiggle. “Suitcase. Where is it?”

  “I’m going to murder you!”

  “Many have tried,” I drawl. “All have failed.”

  Her struggles cease momentarily. “I-I…really?” She sniffs. “You don’t have to be so cavalier about it.”

  “Is that worry, I hear?” My heart is tripping over itself at the grudging concern in her tone and I want to see it on her face, badly, so I pull her down off my shoulder. Just enough to put her eye level and leave her toes dangling near my shins. “I’ll be a lot more careful with a beautiful wife at home, won’t I?” I murmur against her lips. “See? You coming home with me is a matter of life and death.”

  “Oh yeah?” Her blue eyes flash. “Who’s going to keep you safe from me?”

  A chuckle escapes me, but it turns into a groan as I rest her back against the hallway wall. “I’m obsessed with you, Meadow. You know that?” I settle her pussy on my hard dick and rock upward, hissing at the warm welcome her body gives mine.
“Tell me you’re really okay. I’ll tear out my heart if you’re in an ounce of pain.”

  “I’m fine, I promise,” she says, gasping at another upward grind of my hips. “You should see the other guy.”

  “I will be seeing him,” I promise darkly. “And I’ll be the last thing he sees. You know why, Meadow?”

  Her attention drifts to my mouth and I watch her pupils expand. With need. “Why?” she whispers.

  “Because I’m your protector. Your provider. Your first and last fuck.” With every title I list for myself, I give her a thrust of my rigid cock, sliding her up and down the wall. “I’m the hand that feeds you, I’m the one who kills for you, the one who dries your tears.” I trail my tongue slowly up the side of her neck. “I’m your king and you’re going to be my queen.”

  “S-sounds more like king and subject,” she breathes, rolling her hips in time with mine, face flushed. “Sounds like you want to control me. I won’t be controlled.”

  “Not without a fight, you won’t.” I pin her to the wall hard and start to dry fuck her hard, fast, my teeth snapping at her neck. “You found the one man capable of handling you, gorgeous. And handle you I will.”

  “No you won’t,” she hiccups, her mouth opening on a moan, writhing her pussy on my lap like an exotic dancer with a hundred-dollar bill on the line. “I’m not going w-with you. You just want to break me.”

  “No, Meadow,” I growl into a rough kiss of her mouth. “I want to make us both whole. Now come on your man’s dick. Come like an obedient queen.”

  The shudder that moves through her is violent, a sign that she’s close to the end, and I drive my hips all the harder, my tongue and teeth and lips exploring her neck, her ear, her cleavage. “Oh. Oh! I’m…I’m going to…”

  “Call me your king when you cream, Meadow.”

  “No,” she gasps.

  I stop thrusting and she cries out, clawing at me, trying to rub her little cunt on me, but I back my hips up. “Who am I?”

  “My king! My king!”