Used by Marlee Wray

Chapter 3

Trick

I start digging, which is something I’m good at. Milt Schager is a thirty-five-year-old special agent with the Boston field office of the FBI. Clean-cut, square-jawed, with medium brown hair and eyes, he’s nothing special to look at. I don’t recognize him, so I wonder why he’s gone off the reservation with his op. There are a plenty of cops and feds I’ve pissed off so severely that they’d probably happily lie or plant evidence to put me in jail, but going the drugging route is way out there. Did Schager transfer in from the 1950s CIA? Been reading too much Robert Ludlum?

I send a coded message to C, a heads-up that the feds are getting aggressive.

My gaze shifts to the guest room door. Could Laurelyn have completely made up the FBI story? Maybe she was trying to drug me herself? Looking for revenge for something? There’s nothing in our history to warrant it, but C Crue deals in drugs and her little sister’s got a drug problem. Could she blame me for it?

Because it’s not like the FBI to use a civilian in such a dangerous sting. And sending one in with no wire and no backup? That’s crazy. There’s still the possibility she’s an undercover agent herself, but I’ve kept tabs. Could that really have slipped by me?

If she is an agent, she’ll have to lie about what happened tonight. I can’t see a special agent from the FBI copping to being spanked into submission by a C Crue member. And she gave up a supervising agent’s name and the fact that there was an operation. That’s off too. In no way did Laurelyn act like a fed when I punished her. Wouldn’t she have identified herself before I broke her? Then again, maybe she’s that good at undercover work.

I think about the dark red splotches on her ass from my paddle. Then her ass as a round hot ball. I don’t know if she’ll bruise, but she’ll definitely be sore. If she turns out to be FBI and I spanked an agent into uncontrollable sobbing, it’ll be one for the books.

“What are you smiling about?”

I turn my head and find her standing at the edge of the living room, wrapped in the blanket.

“Why are you up? Go back to bed.”

“I’m not tired. I want to know what happens next.”

My gaze rakes over her, wishing I had an excuse to strip her of that blanket. Even though I know there are dangerous unknowns where she’s concerned, my body’s indifferent to the danger. All my body registers is its relentless attraction to her. I’ve been hard since I tied her down.

“What do you want to happen next?”

She blinks, speechless at first. I’d pay ten grand—no, more—to know what’s going through her head.

“You could let me go.”

“Try again, little girl.”

Her brows rise. “Little girl?”

I shrug. “You look like a girl wrapped in that blanket. Pick it up so it’s not dragging on the floor.”

“I need clothes,” she says.

“I’m open to negotiations.”

She stares at me, but doesn’t take the bait. Too bad.

“Seriously though. What now? You got what you wanted. Are you going to let me go?”

Yeah, Trick? What are you going to do with this beautiful girl who almost stung you and still could if you’re caught with her?

I draw in a big breath, exhale, and shrug. I know what I should do. I should get her out of my place immediately.

“It’ll take some time to confirm that you told me the truth. When I ask the FBI what they’re doing, they’re never forthcoming.”

“You talk to them?”

“Sometimes. C thinks it’s a bad idea to bait them, but you know, when someone pokes me, I like to return the favor.” My eyes are heavy on her face. She poked me. I would very much like to poke back, right between her gorgeous thighs.

“Well, I’ve told you what you wanted to know. Your investigation into what the FBI is doing doesn’t need to involve me anymore. The next time Milt Schager calls, I won’t pick up. Can I have my phone?”

“He’d probably like to know that I brought you here and spanked your pretty ass. That could give him an opening.”

“I think your trigger-happy ways have given him all the opening he needs. Your kinky love life isn’t likely to get his attention under the circumstances, is it?”

Love life. I like the sound of that. She’s not using the word assault. I’m betting she doesn’t realize how revealing that is.

“Go back to bed, Laurel, before I give you something more useful to do.”

“Such as?”

“Such as sucking my cock.” I can’t help but push, to see where it gets us. As usual, I’m all in, no matter how dangerous the game.

She blinks and a flush creeps into her cheeks. “As if I would.”

I smirk, dismissing her rejection.

She stiffens. “Back when I was young, I was naive and very, very silly for not believing you’d earned your bad reputation.”

I lay a hand over my heart. “Wounded for life.”

She flips me off, and I smirk.

“Seriously though, Trick, I want my phone. I’ll have someone bring me some clothes, and I’ll get out of your hair. How about now?”

“Nah.”

She glares at me. “So you expect what? That I’ll wander around here half-naked for a few hours? As if you’re paying me to?”

“Would you like me to pay you to?” I ask, knowing the reaction I’ll get.

She flips me off again, and I’m tempted to take her over my knee.

“Seven grand in credit card debt from helping little sis. You could use the money.”

She freezes. Then she pulls the blanket tighter around herself. “How do you know that?”

I look her up and down, knowing just what to say to make her understand I can find out anything about her anytime I want. If she hadn’t flipped me off, I wouldn’t go there. But she’s a girl who used to adore me and I don’t like seeing defiance directed at me. Sassiness is one thing, if a girl’s flirting, but Laurel flipping me off isn’t something I’d allow if she were mine.

“I’d estimate it’s about a week until you get your period based on when you last bought tampons.”

Her mouth opens, but for a moment she’s speechless. It takes several beats for the stunned furrow of her brows to give way to an angry expression. She turns and stalks back to the guest room, throwing words over her shoulder. “Stop prying into my life.”

Not a chance, little girl.

The burner phone rings. It’s a call from C’s burner.

I pick up, my gaze flicking to the open doorway of the guest room. “Hey.”

“How’s your head?”

“Intact. Should probably drop a staple in my scalp. Thanks for reminding me.”

“What about your guest?”

“What about her?”

“She still there?”

“Yeah.”

There’s silence, which translates to disapproval. He’s not wrong. I disapprove of my keeping her in the apartment too.

“Till when?”

“Don’t know.”

“She need a ride somewhere?”

The corner of my mouth quirks up. “Nah. I’m running a C Crue special.”

“How’s that?” he asks, his voice lower now.

“The one where a girl’s got a story to tell, so one of us invites her over for a few days.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

I don’t answer.

“Got your message, Trick. Seems like she runs with a different crowd than we do.”

Again I don’t answer. We both know he’s right. I should already have bounced her out on her pretty pink ass. Taking girls that would piss off Frank Palermo was different. We were already in a war with him. And he wasn’t the fucking FBI, who has hundreds of East Coast agents, unlimited time to investigate, and access to data even the government isn’t supposed to have.

Though in truth, I’ve got pretty much unlimited access too, courtesy of the best hackers money can buy on the dark web. Still, I know the risk of kicking the hornet’s nest. But they sent a really pretty queen bee to sting me. And that pisses me off because this one isn’t supposed to take anyone’s side against me. I plan to remind her of that. So no, I’m not ready to give her back.

“Trick?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t play too long.”

“Nope.”

There’s a beat where I expect him to end the call, but he doesn’t.

“What else, C?”

“You should come home. Anvil and I want to hear about that party in the basement. Didn’t expect to find you drinking Bloody Marys.”

“I’m a popular guy these days. Everyone wants to dance with me.”

“Yeah, seems like. People must be confused though. Inviting just you? Like you’re the only one of us who likes to dance.”

I smirk. Where C Crue business is concerned, the three of us are Cerberus, the three-headed dog at the gates of Hades, working as one body and therefore never alone.

Maybe Enzo realizes I pulled the trigger on Frank, but he also knows any of us could’ve. Hell, Anvil shot him too, for good measure, while Frank was trying to get off a few last shots while dying.

So if Enzo plans to kill me, he’d better have a good plan to kill C and Anvil immediately too, as in all three bodies better hit the ground at the same time. Otherwise, my crue will come at him so hard his odds of survival will be less than five percent at the outside.

“I’ll come by soon, so we can talk poker.”

“All right,” he says, and the phone goes dead.

I run my fingers over the cut in my scalp. Enzo’s a rash idiot for drawing on me with witnesses watching. And smacking me in the head just to annoy me? If you do shit like that, you’d better have a sniper’s aim.

Like I do.

* * *

Laurel

I lie awake in the sinister guest bed after putting the restraints back into their slots in the head and footboards. I have to be on my stomach because I can’t stand any pressure on my wounded ass. And it throbs so much I can’t get back to sleep.

“Come sleep in my bed,” Trick says from the doorway.

“You’re unbelievable,” I say without looking at him.

“The sooner you let me have a taste, the sooner you’ll get out of my apartment.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Very.”

I roll onto my side, so I can look at him. “That’s not how things work. You don’t do what you did and then expect to flirt and—”

“You started it,” he says, cutting me off. “Right?”

I purse my lips. “I was misled. Or so you say. Because I can’t help but notice that I’m lying almost naked in a room where you tied me down and beat me.”

“That wasn’t a beating.”

“Yes. It was.”

He cocks his head. “Not by street standards. And not by crue standards.”

“It felt like one to me. I’m still in pain.”

“Yeah, not a good idea to start things with me you can’t finish. You’re lucky a spanking is all you got.”

“Lesson learned. From now on I’ll stay away from you. As soon as I get out of your apartment, that is.”

He smiles. Then he disappears from the doorway, and, crazily enough, that annoys me. Dealing with the unwarranted disappointment of being left alone is confusing. What I need to do is get out of his place as soon as possible. When he’s asleep I could sneak through the apartment foraging for a phone. Or I could write SOS on his giant windows. Surely, someone would notice eventually, right?

“Here,” he says.

I turn my head sharply to find him standing next to the bed with a glass of water and an outstretched hand full of pills.

“What are those?”

“Motrin, Tylenol, Roxies.”

“Roxies? What’s that?”

He removes a couple of pills. “Here. Motrin and Tylenol.”

I huff out a derisive laugh. “What are Roxies? Illegal drugs?”

“Could be prescribed. These weren’t.”

I take the Tylenol from his hand and examine them to be sure they are what he says. Since they’re properly stamped, I pop them in my mouth and chug them down with water.

“Don’t expect me to say thank you.”

“I don’t. I get it. Life turned you into a brat.”

My brows rise. “Trick, I’m not playing here. This isn’t some game.”

“Everything’s a game.”

“And what does it take to win?”

“When we play to the end, we’ll both know.”

I sigh. “I thought you guys were enslaving pre-teen girls. I wouldn’t have agreed to help the FBI otherwise.” That’s not the whole story, but I’ve gotten away with keeping one personal secret from him, and I plan to keep it that way.

“They played you. Doesn’t that piss you off?”

“Yes, actually,” I say honestly.

“Why do you think you fell for it?”

“Because you’re a known criminal and a top man in a known criminal organization. And you have a reputation for liking deviant sex. Which I now know firsthand is true. Why wouldn’t I believe them? They’re the FBI.”

“But why did you agree to help them? Is that what you want to do? Work for the FBI?”

I choke out a laugh. “Of course not. Seriously?” I shake my head emphatically, but I’m nervous. He’s got uncanny insight that I’m not telling him everything.

“If C or Anvil had been in the basement, would you have been down for drugging one of them?”

I shake my head, not looking at him.

“So I’m the lucky one. Why?”

I shrug.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re still mad about high school, and you wanted to see me again. That’s part of the reason you came. You knew I’d be there.”

“I did not. You know what, Trick? On top of being a homicidal sociopath, you’re also a cocky jerk.”

He laughs, and, even though I’m angry and frustrated, it curls my toes with pleasure to hear it. That easy laughter reminds me of better days, when he wasn’t so jaded and rough. I drag my mind away from the boy he used to be with me. Falling for him in any way now would make me an idiot, like one of those fruitcake women who wrote letters to Ted Bundy in jail.

“You’re lucky you developed that smart mouth after you left high school.”

“Why?”

“Because, Laurelyn, I thought you were a sweet innocent girl I shouldn’t corrupt. I let you off the hook.”

“Is that how you see it?” Remembering the excruciating heartbreak of having dated and lost him so quickly, I can’t believe he thinks he did me a favor. What about the humiliation of finding out he’d been with dozens of my friends?

“That definitely is how I see it.”

“And all it would’ve taken to not get ghosted by you would’ve been to flip you off?”

“You broke up with me.”

“Because you were screwing everyone!”

“No, I wasn’t. I used a lot of them, and the bigger the brat, the filthier the sex. There are a lot of girls who can’t look me in the eye to this day when I pass them on the street.”

“And you don’t sound the least bit sorry.”

“I’m not. I got off. They got off. The fact that they cheated on their boyfriends with me was their decision. And their letting me do dirty things to them was their choice, too. I never forced anyone, didn’t even coerce them.”

I exhale furiously. “You’re such a prick.”

“Someone should teach me a lesson. Oh, right, someone did. Her name was Laurelyn.”

That’s a shocking thing for him to say and almost derails my train of thought. “What? No. I didn’t teach you anything. I walked away from you, yes. But you moved on that same night! You didn’t even leave the dance to do it.”

“Meaningless.”

“To you.”

His blue eyes are dark and cool. “You didn’t answer my texts. Can’t have meant that much to you either.”

Pushing my hair back from my eyes, I glare at him. “You sent three texts, one of them only an hour after you screwed another girl from the homecoming court, proving just how interchangeable we all were to you.”

“That didn’t prove a thing, except that I’m good at putting on a show. When I’m fine, I seem fine. When I’m not, I still seem fine.”

“Are you saying you were upset?”

He shrugs, that enigmatic gesture that’s his signature move. I resent it. Because when he pays attention to you it’s like having the sun shine down from blue skies. And then you learn you’re one of many, and not even the one he’s been the most intimate with. And if you call him on it, he shrugs it off. No explanation. No apology. One day I felt like the brightest, most beautiful star in the night sky. The next, I was dead to him. It was crushing.

“You accused me of cheating. I wasn’t. I was with them before I started dating you, not during.”

“But you were still texting with them. Still friendly. Still flirting.”

“Still texting because a hard stop ruffles feathers. If I want that kind of girl to stay calm and quiet, I have to handle her a certain way.”

“You broke their hearts too, you know?”

He scoffs.

Maybe he doesn’t understand how really dangerous his charm is. No one I’ve ever met before or after him listened to me and made me believe in myself the way he did. He was breathtakingly beautiful, which was bad enough, but worse was that he could make a girl feel like she was born special, like she’d bewitched him. It was the most incredible feeling, better than a dozen shots of alcohol. An endless buzz. Until he was gone.

“Did I matter to you at all?”

“You did.”

“Then when I texted you a couple weeks later, why did you ghost me?”

“You took too long.” He looks away for a second, licking his lips. “I made myself get over you.”

That hits me like a physical blow. Two weeks and he was over us? A decade later, I’m still not sure I’m over us.

He shrugs. “Plus I decided you were better off moving on. We wouldn’t have worked, so there was no point dragging things out.”

“You decided I was better off? Why was that your decision?”

“Because I knew what I wanted from you and you didn’t.”

Scowling, I shake my head. “Your games are more dangerous than your gun.”

His brows rise slowly, skeptically.

“At least if you shoot someone he’s dead instantly. The other way you wound people lasts so much longer. You’re mad I put something in your drink? What you should be is grateful it wasn’t cyanide.”

“Be careful, Laurelyn.”

“Or what? You’ll spank me?”

He folds his gorgeous arms across his beautiful fucking chest. “That and so much more.”

Now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop the tide of anger and frustration from pouring through the broken dam. “I honestly think the world would be a better place without you in it.”

His expression changes from unhappy to blank, and he leaves the room without another word. Then I remember too late what it’s like to have and lose Scott Patrick’s irresistible attention. I’ve just learned the hard way again that fighting with him is better than being ignored by him.