Page 100 of Carnal Urges
His silence echoes with disbelief. In the rearview mirror, I see him blinking, trying to decide if he heard me right.
“You’re making this poor girl yourslave?”
The word conjures images of Sloane naked and handcuffed on her knees with my hard dick in her mouth. Heat floods my groin. I make a mental note to reproduce that fantasy at home, tonight.
I say mildly, “What a charming opinion you have of me.”
“I know you. My opinion is based on fact.”
“Then it will disappoint you to hear that I’m not making her a slave. I’m just making her mine. Period.”
More blinking. He’s so confused, it’s like I’m speaking Portuguese.
“What’s the angle?”
“There is no angle.”
“There’s always an angle. You don’t have girlfriends. You don’t have a personal life. You only have the job, which is how you’ve always wanted it. Which is why you’re so good at it. You’re unencumbered. Undistracted.Alone.”
“People can change.”
“Is that a fucking joke? Are you joking with me right now?”
I say through gritted teeth, “This is getting tiresome. Listen to the words coming out of my mouth. I’m keeping her. She’s mine. Get it on the books, get the word out, and get everyone on board.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a second. Are you saying you want to make her an asset?”
“Potentially. She’s definitely got what it takes.”
He’s incredulous. “You’re willing to blow your cover for a piece of ass?”
“Call her that again, and you’ll be dead within ten seconds.”
We stare at each other, the mirror reflecting two sets of angry eyes. One blue, one brown, both stubborn as hell.
After a tense moment, he says, “That’s the first time you’ve ever threatened me.”
“And if you disrespect her again, the threat will be followed by a bullet.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Jesus Christ. I’d ask you if her pussy is lined with gold, but I don’t want to get shot.”
I growl, “That was too close for comfort and your last hall pass.”
He puts his hands in the air, surrendering. “Fine. I’ll run it up the flagpole. But you might want to take a minute to consider whatshe’dwant. Because I can guaran-goddamn-tee you if I could go back in time and choose whether or not to take on this job, I wouldn’t.”
“I love you, too.”
He mutters, “Quit busting my balls, man.”
“You have the list?”
Grayson digs in his shirt pocket. He has a fondness for red-and-black-plaid shirts. I think he fancies they make him look like a lumberjack. Though he does have the over-muscled forearms and broad back of someone who swings an axe for a living, I’ll give him that.
Without turning around, he hands a folded piece of paper over his shoulder.
“Try to keep it low profile. I can’t explain too many bodies at once.”
“You know I will.”
