Page 6 of Crush (Deadly Hearts 1)

“We went to school together. Used to smoke behind the bike sheds.”

I stifle my laugh because I used to do the same. “Oh, so you know each other well?”

He nods, his eyes wandering around my office. “You from New York?” he asks.

“Yep. Born ‘n bred.”

“Nice,” he says. “Always wanted to visit the Big Apple.”

My phone suddenly beeps into the few seconds of silence, and I grab it like a lifeline. For some reason I cannot figure out, this man knocks me off my game. In fact, around him I have no game.

“Well?” he asks as I read Scott’s lengthy message about how Layton is a good bloke, but a bit bloodthirsty even for this type of work.

“You carry a weapon?” I ask, still staring at my phone.

“No need,” he says, thumping his ginormous fists lightly on my desk.

“Think very highly of your fighting skills, don’t you?”

“Did you not read all the way down to the bottom?” he replies, slightly confused, indicating the paper in front of me which passes for a dark version of a resumé.

Embarrassed to be caught out that in fact, no I didn’t read anything past his last source of employment, I snatch it up and scan all the way down, my mouth going dry.

“Sniper for the SAS,” I say, nodding my head. “Aren’t you supposed to be all hush-hush about that?”

“In the normal world. This isn’t normal. Read on.”

“MMA World Champion three years running,” I say, mildly impressed. Okay, hella impressed, but c’mon. This dude does not need more ego stroking. “Black belt in three different martial arts and taught Krav Maga by the head of Israeli Special Forces.”

“Still think I need a weapon?”

“Probably not, but the people I do business with are…”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says. “So do I start or what?”

“Can you be back here by seven?”

He nods once and rises. “If you ever fancy showing me exactly how you took down Eddie, I’d be up for it,” he says, that bold blue gaze practically making me cream my lacy thong.

“Maybe,” I murmur and watch him go, wishing with everything I have that I’d told him he didn’t get the job so that I could slam him up against the wall of my office and climb him like a tree.

Sadly, I do not get involved with my employees.

It only leads to trouble.

With that important issue dealt with, I call David into my office as I stand up.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

“Yeah, I need to go…do something,” I say, deciding not to tell him that I need to take care of the lady boner that has sprung up since Ramsey’s little gift and Layton’s badass attitude. It’s been a week since I had time to visit the BDSM club that I’m a member of and that is six days too long. I need the thrill and the relief that comes from a visit, and I know myself well enough to know that if I don’t go now, I will snap and probably murder the next asshole who walks through my door.

“That’s vague,” David mutters. “Will you be coming back?”

“Uh-huh,” I say. “Shouldn’t be longer than a couple of hours.” I turn my back as I gather up my coat and handbag. “See you in a bit.”

He nods and waves me off.

I walk unsteadily down the corridor and out into the club. My hands are shaking, my shoulders aching from the tension that has sprung up. I grip the handle of my bag and head out into the fresh air. I breathe in deeply, my face turned towards the gray sky that is still crying tears of cold rain, but I’ll walk to where I’m going. It’s only ten minutes and by the time I get there, my head will be straight, and I can enjoy the time out as a Sub instead of storming in there as a Mistress. It’s not what my body wants. It’s not what my head needs. I need to be punished and the only one who can do that awaits just a ten-minute walk away.

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