Page 50 of Once Upon A Sale

Chapter Twenty

Jarrett

“Oh no, you fucker. Your hands aren’t getting anywhere near me until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“I think it’s obvious, Kitten. These bastards are from The Firm and they were gonna kill ya. Luckily for you, I followed you from the gala.” Grinning, I step towards her and grip her waist, pulling her closer. “You’re such a badass. I knew those heels were capable of killing a man.” Using my other hand, I tangle her hair between my fingers and kiss her no longer perfectly made-up lips.

Ophelia slides her palm over my bicep and squeezes before pulling away.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Her pupils are blown and desire is written all over her bloodied and trembling limbs.

There’s a bruise forming on her cheek, and I can’t help stroking my thumb gently across it as I answer her question.

“Doing what, Kitten?” I know what she’s saying, but her fire fuels me and I want her to explain herself.

“Kissing me like you own me.” There’s no bite in her tone, almost like she’s actually confused over the statement, especially considering how we’re even here in the first place.

“Because I do own you.” Her eyes widen and she’s about to spark, but I quickly continue. “Just like you own me. Heart, mind, dick, and fucking soul. All yours, Kitten.”

Frowning, she sighs deeply and squints her eyes at me, then she bites her bottom lip and takes another breath.

“We need to clean up this mess, I usually have an escape plan in place when I do this kinda thing so we’re gonna have to improvise on this one.” And just like that, she’s accepted what I’m confessing to her—at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. I don’t doubt there will be a lot of push and pull with us, but I know this is the beginning of something fucking magical.

Here, in the middle of a dirt road, surrounded by dead men and covered in their blood, this glorious fucking woman is agreeing to be mine.

I kiss the fuck out of her again, the feel of her tongue against mine easily capable of making me forget everything around us.

“I know a geezer who cleans up shit like this. Nothing to do with The Firm. He’s cushty.” I pull out my phone and hit call on Niall. The look of pure confusion on Ophelia’s face makes me smile as I bring my phone to my ear.

“What the fuck is a cushty? And geezer?”

Chuckling, I kiss her beautiful, soft lips. “One sec, Kitten.”

Niall answers the phone. “J-dog, my man. You good?” He and I met by chance when I was holidaying in Florida fifteen years ago. Some cunt tried to jump Niall on the way home from a bar one night. I caught him, killed him, and Niall and I have been friends ever since. His particular set of skills just happen to be real fucking handy in times like this. Not that I go around killing people on the regular.

“Yeah, cheers, mate. I’m gonna send you my location on a pin, if you wanna bring a few beers with ya.” He fucking hates beer, more of a liquor man, and we decided years ago that beer was our code for help. I’m not a clean up guy, but if he needs help, he just asks me for the same thing. He had a client try to blackmail him once before, I helped by killing the fucker.

“No problem. See you in around four hours.” The line goes dead and I bring my attention back to Ophelia, who is staring at me like she has no idea what the fuck is going on. I suppose she doesn’t.

“Niall is an old mate, we go way back.”

“I’m still on the cushty geezer thing?” She raises her brows and her nose wrinkles in the cutest fucking way, making me laugh and kiss the tip of it.

“Means he’s an alright guy. Decent. We can trust him.”

“I thought I could trust Dexter. Opie did a search on him and he came back clean.” She sighs and looks around at the destruction. Luckily, it’s not a well-used road and it’s just after midnight. The driver of her car had been switched out with one of The Firm’s men and brought us down some dirt track.

“The real Dexter is clean. This guy, Landon, was a fucking scumbag. I tried to warn you…” I shrug, unable to suppress my grin because it seems my woman is still in fight mode.

“You’ve been watching me since we got back. You could have warned me that my new donor was a lying bastard before I invited him to be my date at the gala. Or even before I agreed to take him and his weird friend home. So forgive me, Jarrett, but your warning sucked.” Stepping away from me, she folds her arms across her chest and avoids eye contact.

“How about you suck, Kitten?” She’s agitated, fidgety, and I get the impression she has a lot going through her mind. Something to focus on, other than what’s going on around us, is what she needs.

“How about you fuck off?” Ophelia pokes her cute pink tongue out at me, but there’s a smirk on the corners of her lips.

With a low growl, I narrow my gaze on her and slowly slide my arms out of my suit jacket. It’s ruined, splattered with blood, but it’ll do the job. I carefully lay it out on the ground at her feet and narrow my eyes at her in a challenge.

“Spread your legs, Ophelia.” Calling her Kitten is spot on, but I love to sound out every syllable of her name.

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