Page 3 of Maid For The Mafia Informant

A safe house from the mob is one thing, but would it kill them to have it cleaned, even get me some fresh shirts at least?

I was supposed to be here for two days, tops. Then I saw my face all over the news. Missing presumed dead.

I don’t know what Partridge is trying to pull, but I don’t like it.

And I don’t like him calling the shots now either.

My own case against the De Falco family was what brought me here. I should be allowed to have more of a say in what’s happening.

Without my evidence, there is no case.

Nada.

Nothing.

I decided it was time for me to retire, to hang up my goodwill for all crooked men, and step away from law altogether.

I asked De Falco, and a few other families I’ve saved over the years for my dues. To cash out so I could slip off quietly into the sunset and live the rest of my days in comfort.

Maybe even find that woman I’ve been dreaming of. Finally, settle down.

I’m forty, not sixty. I look after myself and I’ve still got time.

So I told myself.

First up, De Falco politely told me to go fuck myself when I asked for what he owed, this was followed by another six families sending me the same message then I learned they’d all put a price on my head.

A lot cheaper than paying me what I’m owed.

So I decided to return the favor, in a legal sense. I somehow found a lot of missing or destroyed evidence. I suddenly recalled a lot more information and since being holed up here, even without a secretary or the materials I need I still have a watertight case against every major crime family in the state.

The state’s willing to settle an undisclosed amount for my services and I’ve been assured personal safety at all times.

Even though I know once they find out, my life’s never gonna be the same again, let alone safe. Not until all of them are locked up.

But looking down into the street, all that seems to vanish in a moment.

I see a familiar car, Partridge, and his dipshit sidekick.

But there’s something else.

Someone else.

It could be the district attorney, hard to tell at this distance, but as soon as she steps away from the car and looks up, I know it’s not the DA.

I make an involuntary sound, my hand up against the glass as I trace the outline of her curves from above with a finger.

I feel a rush of heat to my groin, my dick getting thicker with each pounding beat of my heart against my ribs.

Even from this height, I can tell she’s perfect. I can see her blond hair, heavy chest, and thick body.

The kind of body I never knew could make me sweat so easily.

Letting out a low groan, I hope and pray she’s coming up here, and not some other witness they’ve brought in.

What if she is coming up here though?

I feel suddenly and unusually self-conscious.

I haven’t showered in two days, and the place is a mess. There’s take out containers and files everywhere, stinking the place up.

I hurriedly wipe away the condensation from my breath from the glass, snarling once she moves out of sight, and then another, different sound escapes my lips once I see her again.

Satisfied.

Content.

Like that feeling I get when I know I’m just about to win an impossible case and it feels like the whole world exists just for me.

She’s watching Partridge take something from the trunk, which he passes to her and I can tell straight away she’s the new hired help.

Partridge has this way of making people feel real special, real quick.

I feel my eyes narrow and my whole body tense. Suddenly jealous of her so close to any other man, even if it is only Partridge.

The clouds of condensation on the glass tell me I’m breathing like a maniac, I can feel my heart singing in my ears, but most of all it’s this damned hardness.

I haven’t been this hard since?

Since ever.

They all move out of sight, making for the building and I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself and arrange my thoughts.

Fuck, I stink.

Jesus, I’m so hard.

Christ, did you see her just now? Did you fucking see her!

I stand in the middle of the room, totally unsure of anything for the first time in my life.

If she’s coming up here, that changes everything.

Pull yourself together, Ben. You’re Ben Slade, not some intern who’s still wet behind the ears.

After a while, I’m jolted to my senses. I can hear the electronic door click loudly as Partridge unlocks it, murmuring to the guard in the hall.

I launch myself into a chair in front of the blank plasma television screen, snatching up some papers and covering my tent pole hard on with one while pretending to read the others.

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