Page 10 of A Captive Situation

“Yeah. Says her name is Viv—”

Vivianna.

Of all my family members, all the different branches, Vivianna was one of the few that was intertwined with the West and Walden Mafia families. She wasn’t a part of the Worthing Mafia family. That was a whole other side, but she knew of them. Some of our uncles went into the oil business. Some went into being professional criminals. Of that side of the family, both did well with money. Vivianna, unfortunately for her, was used to that lifestyle, except she’d also gotten hooked on a fast way of living back in her modeling days. She wasn’t modeling anymore but hadn’t been able to stop trying to live that fast life.

This wasn’t the first call I’d gotten about her, but considering how my own life was going, it might be the last. I sighed into the phone. “Yeah. I’ll come down and get her. I’m guessing you won’t just release her?”

“Yeah.” Laila laughed, harshly. “No. You can get your ass down here. I’ll let you take her home, but she needs to go to rehab. Look of her, she’s not going to wake up one of these times she puts a needle in her arm.” She waited after delivering that stark statement.

I checked my stop and saw the one coming up I’d need if I was going to the station. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

Twenty-three minutes later, I walked in and boom.

There she was.

Not my ex–booty call.

Not my cousin.

But the woman from the subway who had been plaguing my mind.

I almost turned right around to leave because this woman was trouble. She’d had my dick hard on the train. It’s the whole reason I was in her face, grilling her about needing an ambulance. And that mouth.

Christ.

Her fucking mouth.

The way she’d been biting it on the train. When she’d been wringing her hands together, when she didn’t even know she was doing it, getting all worked up. I didn’t even know the shit going on in her mind but I knew it wasn’t good. But she’d been gnawing away at her bottom lip and I had to say something. I got up in her face, downright pushing shit on her that wasn’t even the truth, all because I had to say something. If I hadn’t, I was a second away from doing something else to her mouth to get her to stop chewing on it. No woman affected me like that. I didn’t like it. Goddamn. I didn’t have time for a woman like her, and now, seeing her on the same bench where they put people being detained, I stopped in my tracks.

Trouble. Just, fucking trouble.

I was fucking hard for her all over again, and she was back to gnawing on that bottom lip of hers.

Her hands were clenched in her lap, wringing together, just like on the subway, but I was glad to see there weren’t handcuffs on her.

I paused just inside the door.

In two seconds, I’d be spotted and my ex–booty call would be notified. I’d turned in my resignation. Those who knew me knew I wasn’t a cop anymore. News got around because not only was my own flesh and blood mobbed up, not only was I one of the many dozens ofcops who was also on payroll for another Mafia family in this area, a different mob, but the irony of all ironies was that they assigned me to organized crime. Seeing this woman sitting there, feeling the way my body wanted to go over and put a claim on her, fury swept through me. I was not a good man. I wasn’t. That was the plain fucking truth. I was all the way bad. Grew up bad. Continued being bad. My reasons might’ve been good, but there was no way around the fact that I had no place to go over, introduce myself to that woman, and see how she’d feel about putting those lips around my dick instead.

Course, I wouldn’t go there first. I’d be respectful. Ask her for a cup of coffee first.

Jesus.

I was going for her without even realizing it myself.

Two steps.

Three.

I was nearing her.

She lifted her gaze.

Clocked me, her eyes widening.

Confusion swirled in their depths.

She frowned a little, and again, sank those teeth down in that lip of hers.

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