Page 17 of Red Flag Bull

I cling to the shadows, avoiding the cameras in his building’s underground parking lot, until I find what I’m looking for.

The motorbike looks way more expensive than the one he used to ride, but it’s his. The helmet sitting on the seat is black, sleek, and sexy, with a golden Celtic knot embellishing the back, where the helmet would protect the base of Jason’s skull.

He has the same symbol tattooed low on the back of his neck. I traced it with my finger, on one of the rare occasions he let me touch him that close to the scars he kept hidden beneath his tight, black T-shirts.

He always had a thing for knots.

I shiver and hug my thin sweater closer, as I rest back against the nearest pillar, to wait.

I doubt he’ll be pleased to see me, so an ambush is the best approach. He won’t be able to avoid me this way, like he would if I made an appointment, and I need him to hear me out. If I can even figure out what to say.

He made me a promise once, and even though I broke every single one I ever made him, he’ll stay true to his word.

7

JASON

I glance at the trading clocks and lean back in my chair with a sigh, as Shane Waldron goes into yet another fear-driven rant about how much of his money is at risk.

It’s only fucking money. He knows how to make more. I could make it back for him within the week, but still he’s dragging his heels, and I’m done. It’s been a hard day’s night, and I’m too fucking distracted for bullshit.

I can’t stop thinking about why the fuck Mandi came to see me.

You know why.

I glance at the cum-smeared Post-it note stuck to the corner of my screen, and then at the small mountain of used tissues in the trash. I doubt I pay my cleaning staff enough to clean up after that much of my self-soothing. I need to go home.

“If you need more than sixty seconds, the opportunity will pass, and we’ll be done for the night,” I inform Shane, unwilling to suffer his indecision for another minute.

“That soon?” he asks.

“You’re not my only client,” I reply, unable to summon the energy to lessen the harshness in my tone. “I brought this offer to your attention first, out of loyalty, but if you don’t want it, there’s a steady line of eager beavers behind you, who’d love to pony-up the funds. High risk, high reward, man. But that’s a young buck’s game, and maybe you’re getting too long in the tooth.”

Great. I’ve resorted to talking in clichés, like a fucking imbecile.

Fucking Amanda Warren.

I drag my hands down my face, grateful it’s an audio-only meeting. “What’s it going to be, Shane? I’ve got places to be,” I lie.

“Fine. Put me in for ten mill, you cocky fuck. But you’ll be hearing from me?—”

“When I’ve doubled it in a fortnight, and you’re begging to name your first born after me. I know. Goodnight, Shane.” I end the call and tap out the sequence required to complete the transactions I’ve had staring at me from the screen for the last three hours.

I loosen my collar even more and find an envelope big enough to accommodate the well-fertilized contents of my trashcan, while I await the confirmation e-mail. As soon as it comes through, I slam my laptop shut, shove it into my backpack, pull on my leather jacket, sling the bag over my shoulder, and head down to the basement with the envelope. I’ll toss it in the trash down there.

Of course, I’m so preoccupied, trying to figure out the puzzle that is Amanda Warren, that I’m still holding my creepy package of reproductive waste when I get to my bike.

I hear snoring, and then spot the soles of Mandi’s boots poking out from behind a nearby pillar. I know they’re hers, because they’re small — no bigger than a five — and they’re worn down on the outer right heel, because she rolls her ankle outward when she walks. I got her orthotics to even that out, so she wouldn’t get backaches, but I found them in her empty house after she left.

My teeth start to ache from my clenching them so hard, and I relax my jaw before quietly lowering my cargo to the ground. I sneak toward her sleeping form in the shadows.

How did she get in here? I pay good money to keep out any riff-raff, but after this fucking travesty, I’ll be donating the security team’s annual bonus to the cleaning staff instead.

I stand over her curled body and let every emotion I have for her wash over me, while I remain perfectly still. Part of me wants to break her scrawny, shivering neck. A dumber portion longs to pick her up and build her a cozy nest. The smarter thing to do would be to walk away and leave her there.

There’s no denying the urge to touch her pretty dark hair. Or to pull it out. My body almost begs to lie down next to her — not to snuggle — just to watch her sleep until the sun comes up. Though my blood does rush at the idea of grabbing every used tissue from the nearby envelope and stuffing them inside her. Down her throat. Up her cunt. In her ass. I’ll shove them in with my fist, and then fuck them deeper with my cock.

It’s a little hard to breathe, and my vision starts to blur, as my heart tries to expel itself from my chest.

---