“I’ll put in a word.”
My meaning’s clear, and we both know he wants some kind of deal where what he does in private is locked down.
Because I recognize that glimmer in his gaze. The calculating look. He’s got something he doesn’t want others to know. It kind of reminds me a little of myself when I tried to wiggle out of things and hide truths from my brothers as a kid.
He wants more than his brother.
So I wait. He might not tell me what that is, but if he goes to Roark, then he’ll tell him. If it’s something to do with Molly, I’ll get the word then.
But…I don’t think it is about her.
This guy is no creeper. He’ll take, but he won’t skulk.
What about Mario? The missing Mario himself?
That…shit, I don’t know.
Marlowe still doesn’t move. Her hand is on my dick, the other one clenching my thigh, but at least she’s not torturing me. She gets the importance of this conversation and what’s not being said.
“You got your heroin.”
“Marco—Mario—is my baby brother, but he’s always been coddled and wild…he makes his own bed, you know?” He looks uncomfortable as fuck. “Mario stole that cocaine, right?”
I don’t nod. I don’t have to. He knows the truth.
“But he stole something from me, too. Not just the drugs. And I need this thing back. Dead or alive, I need it back.”
“I don’t know your brother. We’ve never met,” I say. And I hesitate before making a decision. He’s being vulnerable for a Don, so I go for it, too. “I hired someone to sell those drugs against my brother’s orders. Thought it was a good deal. That person evidently made a deal with your brother and…well, it landed me in all kinds of hot water. But I never met him.”
He nods, narrowing his eyes at me.
“The thing was of…sentimental value. A police-issued gun.”
The gun I have? Fuck me. But I don’t change myexpression. I don’t buy the sentimental part, but the gun… “Do you want him or the gun?”
Marlowe stills completely.
“Both. But if it comes to it, I’d rather have the gun, and he can just disappear.” Then he begins to talk about his brother, making it clear to me he loves him, but he needs that gun for reasons he doesn’t explain.
Molly moves again, her fingers stroking me, her tongue moving over my skin, my balls, and he could be telling me the secret to eternal life for all I care.
She sucks me down, all the fucking way down, her throat doing insane things to the sensitive head of my cock.
I try to even my breathing. He’s still fucking talking, and I need to concentrate. There are layers to this conversation, but I can’t think. “Take the card, we’ll talk. You, me, Cal, and Roark.”
“As long as we’re clear.”
Fuck. I clutch the desk. “We are.”
He finally nods and leaves.
I convulse, on the edge of coming. “Fuck, Molly.”
She pulls off me, leaving me waiting, wanting, needing to come.
“You’re trying to sell me off?” she says, teeth gritted, voice fiery as her hair. “Just leave if you hate me that much.”
“You hateme.”
