Rule
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Uh! Uh! Uh! Yeeeessssssss!”
As the woman beneath me succumbed to orgasm, I drove in deep one last time and let myself go.
“That was…” She smiled up at me, her hair slicked back from perspiration, her eyes glassy from pleasure. “Wow.”
Now she was at a loss for words.
Figured.
I forced a smile as I pulled out of her and rolled off the bed. I left her panting and smiling while I went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, flushing it down the toilet. I splashed water on my face and ignored my reflection. I knew what I would see, and self-loathing did not look good on me.
Yeah, I hated myself. Sometimes more than others. Like now. When an orgasm was merely a bodily function and provided absolutely no relief whatsoever.
You’d think I would learn.
Because I wasn’t a complete ass, I returned to the bed, intending to give her a few minutes to come down from her high before I slipped out into the night.
She purred as she moved up beside me, her hand sliding over my chest.
“That really was amazing,” she said softly. “I always did have a thing for dark and dangerous.”
If she only knew.
“And this thing…” She wrapped her fingers around my cock. “It should have its own zip code.”
If she thought she was flattering me, she was wrong. I didn’t need my ego stroked after sex.
She pressed her lips to my shoulder. “Want to do that again?”
I didn’t. It hadn’t been great the first time, what with all the porn-worthy squeals, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. Instead, I put my arm around her and urged her head on my chest. I would give her a few minutes to fall asleep and then slip out.
I didn’t expect to be the one drifting off as she purred softly beside me.
I came fully awake and alert a short time later when my cell phone rang.
I grabbed it from the nightstand, answering on the first ring. “Yeah?”
“Is this Rule?”
She said my name as though she doubted the accuracy of it.
“Yeah. What do you want?”
“My mother said to call you.” There was a hint of panic in the sultry tone of her voice.
I glanced at my watch to see how long I’d been asleep. Half an hour.
Shit.
“Who is this?” I grunted as I shifted my bed partner off of me.
“Laikyn Quinn.”
I sat up, dropped my feet to the floor, and rubbed my eyes. “Where are you?”
“My house.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Don’t you want—”
“Half an hour,” I stated firmly, not wanting her to say anything that might incriminate herself or her mother.
“Uh…” she stammered. “Okay.”
I disconnected the call before her panic had her spewing shit that could get us both in trouble. I set my phone on the nightstand and grabbed my boxer briefs, which I’d discarded only an hour ago. Right before I fucked the dark-haired woman currently staring back at me from the other side of the bed.
“Leaving so soon?”
I didn’t bother answering her. We had agreed going in that this was a one-night thing. I was holding her to that.
My lack of answer didn’t deter her. “Do I get to see you again?”
I pulled on my jeans and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not what this is.”
“It could be.”
No, it couldn’t. I didn’t do relationships. I fucked to sate a biological urge. I didn’t fuck the same woman twice to ensure they didn’t get attached. Even those I interacted with occasionally, those who wouldn’t want more than some horizontal fun, I didn’t indulge more than once because women said one thing but felt something else entirely. I wasn’t out to hurt anyone, so I kept it to one-and-done.
There was only one person in the world I trusted enough to fuck on the regular. He happened to be the closest thing I had to a real friend. Not the kind you saw on occasion, and they told people you were friends. The ones who were around even when you didn’t expect them to be. But Jinx was as emotionally damaged as I was, so I didn’t worry about him doing something as stupid as falling in love with me.
I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on my boots, rolling my eyes when the woman—I didn’t even know her fucking name—lightly scraped her nails over my back. Before she could move closer, I stood, grabbing my shirt off the floor. I pulled it on, then grabbed my cell phone.
“Thanks,” I told her before heading out of the room.
“Thanks?” she shouted. “Seriously?”
Once in my car, I called Rhyan using the most recent burner she’d given me.
“What’s up, boss?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“I got a call from Laikyn Quinn.”
“Yeah? She get snatched again?”
“Didn’t sound like it.”
“You want me to meet you somewhere?”
“Yes. I’m on my way to her mother’s house.”
“You need the Reds to come, too?”
The Reds was how she referred to Red Wally and Willy, who, if I had to guess, were currently asleep in her bed.
“No. Not yet.”
“Gotcha. See you in a few.”
I liked Rhyan Ambrose for the simple fact she did what I needed her to do, and she didn’t expect me to make small talk. Yeah, she was nosy as fuck, and she asked questions she knew I wouldn’t answer, but I figured she’d earned that right since I’d been working with her for the better part of eight years now. However, she knew to put the job first, and I appreciated that.
Especially now because I didn’t want to admit it, but this job was going to get messy. And I wasn’t talking about the actual cleanup of whatever Monica Quinn fucked up. It had been five and a half years since I’d rescued Laikyn Quinn from that dingy basement in Tijuana, and I’d thought about her damn near every day since. Each year, on her birthday, while ringing in the new year, I would mentally calculate whether she was at an age that would be appropriate for me to instigate a chance meeting. And each year, even after she turned eighteen, I decided I was out of my fucking mind.
Instead, I kept track of her through other means. I wouldn’t call it stalking, per se. I merely wanted to know what her mother was up to because Monica Quinn was what people in my line of work called repeat business. She was prone to making bad decisions. The kind that resulted in people getting hurt. Innocent people. Rescuing her daughter wasn’t the first time I’d met her, and I doubted this would be the last time our paths crossed, either. Some rich people—those with more money than sense—tended to find themselves in predicaments they needed help getting out of. I was notoriously good at making that happen, hence the reason I was on so many speed dials.
I was curious what Monica had gotten herself into this time. My fees weren’t cheap, and the menu of things I was willing to do was long, provided you were willing to pay upfront—in cash. If you were hiring me, you were someone important, and you’d done something you didn’t want anyone to find out about. And if you were calling on my services again, you were going to pay the frequent flyer tax.
“Hey, Siri. Send a text to Jinx.”
“Sure. What would you like to say?” the automated voice replied.
“On a job. Might need you.”
“Would you like to send it now?”
“Yes.”
A few minutes later, his response came through.
— Whatever you need.
That was Jinx, straight to the point without asking questions he knew I wouldn’t answer anyway.
Half an hour later, I was pulling up to the gates at the Quinn estate. I rolled down the window to press the button. A camera was aimed directly at my face, and a moment later, the gates began to open. Once I was through, I stopped and waited for them to close behind me. No sense letting someone slip through. I wouldn’t put it past the paparazzi to be lingering nearby even minutes before dawn.
I pulled down the short drive until the house came into view. It was a ridiculously opulent residence that matched the owner’s over-the-top personality to a T. I’d hated it the first time I saw it, and my feelings hadn’t changed. The only thing it had going for it was that it was set back from the road and not visible unless someone was flying a drone overhead. Considering the time of night and my presence in the neighborhood, there was a good chance one of those sneaky reporters would launch one over here soon enough.
Since I didn’t know what I was walking into, I retrieved my gun from the lockbox in the trunk, tucking it into the holster at my back and using my shirt to cover it. I looked around, scanning my surroundings as I made my way to the door. It was a little after five in the morning, and the house’s exterior was lit up like someone wanted it to be seen from space. I wasn’t sure whether that was a security precaution or simply because Monica Quinn wanted her house to be seen at all times. From all planets. The latter certainly wouldn’t surprise me.
I knocked on the door and stepped back.
When it opened, the air in my lungs locked up for a moment as I took in my first face-to-face—after five and a half years—with the woman I’d rescued all those years ago.
Unlike then, when she’d been a grimy mess after spending two weeks in a cage, she looked healthy. Her hair, which was dark chestnut at the roots, hung to her shoulders and gleamed with an array of cinnamon and red-gold highlights. Her eye makeup was smeared, but the fact she wasn’t worried about it made her that much hotter.
Every cell in my body came to life.
It was the same reaction I’d had when I first met her all those years ago. She’d still been a child at the time—barely seventeen—but she certainly wasn’t now. Which I figured was why I was looking at her through lenses hazed with lust rather than mere observation. Standing there in a pair of ass-hugging shorts and a tank top that cradled her chest like it was in love, looking like she’d just walked out of my best fucking dream, I was struck as mute as Jinx.
While Monica Quinn was elegantly beautiful, her daughter had a sharper edge that made her stunning in a way her mother never would be. Laikyn Quinn had a steely determination—not to mention a body made for sin—and the combination made my dick hard.
“Where’s your mother?” I asked, forgoing pleasantries and trying not to ogle the expanse of olive-gold skin that wasn’t covered by her barely there pajamas.
“Are you Rule?”
“Yes.” I raised my eyebrows. “You gonna let me in?”
“Sorry,” she said in a hushed voice, as though she was trying not to wake someone.
When Laikyn stepped out of the way, I walked in, closing the door and leaving it unlocked so Rhyan could come in when she arrived.
“Where’s your mother?” I asked again, doing my best not to stare at Laikyn’s long, long legs. But sliding my gaze upward wasn’t much better because the tank top that hugged her breasts and trim waist didn’t quite meet the shorts, leaving a sliver of skin where the fabric didn’t touch, and my tongue itched to lick her there.
“In the parlor.”
She gestured in that direction, but I wasn’t interested in talking to Monica. Not yet.
“Show me what happened.”
Laikyn frowned.
I waited patiently for her to get with the program. When she finally started walking, heading for the stairs, I fell into step. I kept my eyes on her bare feet as we ascended to the second floor, wondering if I’d ever seen feet as sexy as hers. Her toenails were painted a glittery purple, and while I wasn’t fond of the color, it worked for her.
Laikyn’s pace slowed as we reached a doorway halfway down the hall on the right.
“They’re in there,” she said, her voice wobbling slightly.
“They?”
She swallowed and nodded. “The dead people.”
Well, that answered what the situation was.
“Stay here,” I told her before walking into the room.
“It’s gruesome,” she muttered.
I didn’t bother telling her it was likely nothing I hadn’t seen before. No sense in traumatizing her more.
I flipped on the lights so I could get a good look at the scene. I could smell the blood before I even walked in, so I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.
It wasn’t.
On the bed was a young—probably early thirties—Asian woman. She was naked and very dead.
Since Laikyn had explicitly stated they—meaning more than one—I glanced around for another person. I slipped into the en suite bathroom but came up empty. I was walking back toward the door, intending to get more information from Laikyn, when I noticed the way the bedspread was pulled down, like someone had grabbed onto it as they slid off the mattress. I walked over and peered at the floor.
And this one makes two.
A middle-aged male with a knife protruding from his chest stared up through sightless eyes.
Not the worst I’d ever seen, that was for sure.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Rhyan as I returned to the hall to find Laikyn leaning against the far wall. She had one foot propped on the wall, her toes curled under. She was attempting to mask her expression, but I could tell she was freaked out. I didn’t blame her. She shouldn’t even be here right now.
Rhyan answered on the first ring. “Yeah, boss? I’m five minutes out.”
“Use the garage.”
“Got it.”
I disconnected and tucked my phone in my pocket, turning my full attention to Laikyn. “Did you touch them?”
“What?”
“The bodies? Did you touch them?”
“I … uh…” She paused, deep in thought. “Yes. I checked for a pulse on the woman’s neck. Not the old guy, though.”
I made a mental note to have Rhyan take care of that pesky detail. Last thing I wanted was for this to come back on Laikyn.
“You know who that is, right?” Laikyn prompted when I looked at her.
“Lawrence Pierce and his wife,” I answered.
“You know them?”
“I’ve done business with him before.” Sad because his jobs usually paid well.
Laikyn stood tall. “We need to call the police.”
“No, I need you to open the garage for Rhyan and buzz her through the gate when she gets here.”
“But, I—”
I met her stare. “Open the garage, Laikyn.”
She swallowed hard, then nodded before rushing off to do my bidding.
While she did, I returned to the bedroom and took it all in again, coming up with a plan for Rhyan. I couldn’t simply dump the bodies in the desert because famous people would be missed. Which meant coming up with a plausible scene that would support the evidence.
First and foremost, it didn’t look like they’d been dead for long. That would help with the timeline, provided we could adjust the temperature of the bodies. I didn’t see any wounds on the woman, but that didn’t mean there weren’t. The lack of blood nearby and the drugs strewn out on the dresser confirmed my initial theory that she’d overdosed. Based on the white powder around her nostrils, she’d taken the party a little too far. And since the husband had a knife in the chest, the only logical conclusion was that Monica had stabbed him. What prompted it was anyone’s guess, but I would ensure Rhyan kept the knife. It was always best to hold onto incriminating evidence in the event someone suffered from a crisis of conscience.
When I heard footsteps, I returned to the hall. Laikyn was walking toward me, her gaze moving over me slowly.
I started for the stairs.
“You can’t just leave them there,” she hissed, her voice still low.
I kept walking, not looking back. “I’m not.”
“It’s not—wait. What?”
“I’m not gonna leave them there.”
“What are you going to do?”
“That’s not a question you should be asking.”
“Then what should I be asking?” she shouted. “There are two dead bodies in my mother’s room, and she’s downstairs self-medicating. I’ve got a stranger in my house and another in the garage … and…”
I turned to face her, noticing her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. I was impressed by how well she was holding herself together. It wasn’t the first time. Laikyn Quinn had been stoically composed the day I pulled her out of that basement in Tijuana. She hadn’t even flinched when I carried her past her captor’s dead body. By the time I returned her to her mother’s doorstep, I had to question whether I’d actually rescued her. She certainly hadn’t acted like she’d spent fourteen days in a hellhole with some douchebag threatening to do vile things to her. I’d been there long enough to hear it for myself, and I could honestly say he was lucky the bullet between the eyes was the only thing I gave him.
“I’m gonna take care of it,” I told her, trying to keep my tone even. I sucked at it.
“Take care of it how?”
“No more questions.”
“Yo, boss?” Rhyan’s voice echoed off the tiled foyer. “You in here?”
Laikyn’s green eyes went dinner plate wide.
“You can trust her the same way you can trust me,” I told her softly, touching her arm before I could think better of it.
She moved one step toward me, her voice raspy and soft. “What’s happening?”
“Upstairs!” I called to Rhyan.
“Rule, please,” Laikyn pleaded. “Tell me what’s happening.”
Rather than explain, I took her hand and pulled her along with me so I could go downstairs and talk to Monica.
Rhyan, being too fucking perceptive, noticed that I was holding Laikyn’s hand before she even looked at my face. I swore I saw the hint of a smirk, but she covered it quickly.
“What do we have, boss?”
“Two bodies.”
“Do we know who they are?”
“Unfortunately. And so do a lot of other people. You’ll recognize ’em.”
“Great,” Rhyan muttered.
“Get it cleaned up and erase any evidence they were ever here. Including the security videos.”
“Where do you want me to take the bodies?”
“Get Red Wally to check out their place. See what he can do about the staff. Our best option is to take them there.”
“Got it.”
I continued down the stairs, still holding Laikyn’s hand.
“You’re dumping the bodies?”
“Unless you’d prefer I set them up in the living room.”
She tried to pull her hand from mine, clearly not appreciating my sarcasm. I held firm, not wanting her to run for a phone to call the cops.
“This is stupid,” Laikyn insisted. “Just call the police. My mom can tell them what happened.”
I stopped and turned toward her. “And what did happen, Laikyn?”
“I don’t know.”
“I very seriously doubt that man stabbed himself.”
Her dark eyebrows arched, her expression one of confusion and fear. “It was an accident. She said so.”
I didn’t comment, turning and continuing down the stairs. It pissed me off that she was in the middle of this.
“Take me to her,” I instructed when we reached the bottom of the stairs.
“In there,” she said, motioning toward the large open archway on the right.
I didn’t bother hiding my eye roll when I found Monica sitting on the settee, her feet curled up under her, a cigarette in one hand and a highball glass in the other. She looked as though she’d just come from the beauty salon. Her hair was styled, her makeup perfect. I had to assume she’d had a wardrobe change since the incident. She was wearing a black silk gown and robe and glittering heels on her feet. Her robe was draped perfectly over her legs like she was posing for a photoshoot.
“Where were you tonight?” I asked, foregoing pleasantries.
“Oh, Rule. You’re here,” she said dramatically. “It was all such a blur. One minute—”
“Where. Were. You?” I repeated.
I didn’t give a shit what happened. That was none of my fucking business.
Her eyes twitched at the corners, proof she didn’t appreciate my tone. “At a party.”
“Did you know them before tonight?”
“Not really, no.”
“Are you working with either of them?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I’ve auditioned for them before.”
Since she used the term auditioned, I assumed she hadn’t gotten the part. Which to some could look like she had motive to kill them. Especially if they hadn’t been interested in offering her a part in the future.
“You told me you just met them tonight,” Laikyn accused her mother.
“I forgot.”
I could tell Laikyn wasn’t surprised by the lie.
“Did anyone see you leave with them?” I asked, wanting to maintain control of the situation.
This time, she hesitated, presumably to think back. “I…” She stammered over her words before finally saying, “Probably.”
Realizing I was still holding onto Laikyn, I released her hand. “When Rhyan’s done here, she’ll drive the car back to their place. You’ll go with her. From there, you’ll call for a ride. Not before, but as soon as you get there. And call from your phone, Monica. If anyone asks, you went home with them, then after you had your fun, you came home.”
“I’ll call my driver,” she said.
“Fine. Whatever,” I said firmly. “I want you smiling and laughing when he gets there. You had a good time. When you left, they were still … doing whatever the fuck y’all do.”
I could feel Laikyn’s eyes boring into me.
I spared her a glance.
“Why can’t we just call the police? This isn’t her fault.”
“No? And you have proof of that?”
“Well, no, but she said—”
“No police,” Monica stated firmly.
I nodded my chin toward Monica. “This is your third time. My fee tripled.”
Her eyes widened. “I … I don’t have it right now.”
“Rhyan!” I shouted, directing my voice toward the foyer. “Stop doing what you’re doing.”
“No!” Monica yelped, stabbing her cigarette out in the ashtray as she hopped up from the couch. “No. Please.”
“I don’t work for free, and I don’t work on consignment.”
“It’ll take me a little while to get it.”
“What’s a little while?” I prompted.
Her gaze snapped to Laikyn like her daughter could help her out of this.
Rhyan appeared, wearing black latex gloves that glistened with fluid—most likely blood—her eyes skimming everyone in the room. “What’s up, boss?”
“Leave it like it is,” I told her, waiting for Monica to come up with an answer.
“I’ll need some time,” Monica said quickly. “But I can get it. I swear it.”
One of my biggest regrets was that I’d trusted Monica Quinn at one point. Not with money, but with her word. She’d gone back on it, but by the time I realized it, it was too late.
So, no, I wasn’t helping for Monica’s benefit. I was doing this for Laikyn. I owed her that much.
As for Monica Quinn, she appeared wealthy from the outside, but I’d learned the woman had been in dire financial straits for a while now. She claimed she didn’t trust anyone else with her money, but no one had ever taught her how to manage it properly. That and Monica Quinn had a gambling problem that had caused her to make some terrible decisions in recent years. Some far worse than others.
“How much is your fee?” Laikyn asked, her soft voice strained.
“One mil. Incremented by the same each time I help.”
Her eyes widened. “You want three million dollars?”
“Yes.” I looked at her mother. “You know the drill, Mon. Three million cash. Now. Or we walk.”
That didn’t shave any of the shock from her face, but Laikyn turned her attention to her mother.
“Three million dollars to…” Laikyn waved a shaky hand toward the ceiling in the direction of the dead bodies.
“It’s cheaper than the high-price legal team she’ll need,” Rhyan pitched in.
I waved a hand low, urging Rhyan to shut the fuck up.
I pinned Monica with a stare. “What’s it gonna be?”