No one with any sense would punch the King.
“So…” Bradley grunts and sits down on one of the stools next to the island counter. “I came out of the airport and Frank called me. Told me he’s stuck in traffic. I think to myself, shit. Do I want to wait for him or do I want to go home?” He takes another swing of his beer. “I want to come home so I hail a cab, but as one pulls up in front of me, this woman with more rings and bracelets than I’ve ever seen in my life throws her hand up to hail a cab just as I’m leaning down to open the door.”
It takes every ounce of strength I have to contain my laughter. “No shit.”
“Yes shit,” he groans, closing his bruised eye. “She hit me with what felt like a sack of metal.”
A snort of amusement escapes my restraint. “You got punched by a woman in jewelry.”
“Don’t you fucking laugh.” He points one thick finger at me and silence falls for a split second, then his angry face cracks and warmth melts across his expression as he chuckles. “I’ll be seeing stars for days.”
“You should get that checked.” I chuckle as I sit next to him. “Make sure nothing got scratched. Losing your eye would be the final nail in the intimidation coffin.”
“Right?” He tilts his head. “I could rock an eye patch.”
“But come up with a better story.”
“Wrestling a tiger.”
“Fist fighting a boar and its tusks just—” I pop my lips together.
Bradley laughs deeply and sighs. “It’s good to be home.”
“How was it?” I don’t want to pry since everything necessary will be included in his report, but Bradley’s visibly exhausted.
“I hate lawyers. You would think that given our status, when I tell someone to do something, they would do it without question. But no, we have to maintain the balance and make sure all sides are happy, that the media runs the right story and the right people are locked up for the right amount of time. They talk in circles and then end up doing what I suggest in the first place.” He shakes his head. “But… we’re down two gun-running routes. Trouble with the Cartel, and they don’t recognize us as any kind of authority.”
“There’s always one,” I mutter. “Are they going to be an issue?”
Bradley drains his bottle and sighs. “Probably. But it’s out of our hands now. I made sure no one was slaughtered and their targets are fixed on the Cartel now. If they don’t recognize our power, then they don’t get our help, either.”
“It’s only fair.”
“Exactly. What about here?” Bradley lifts his tired eyes to me. “How’s things with the girl from the plane?”
“We have some leads.”
“You think it’s big?”
“Big enough that the Russians keep lying through their teeth.”
“Keep me updated.”
“I will.” Moving from my stool, I pour the coffee from the machine but rather than drinking it, I place it in front of Bradley. I know him well enough to know he isn’t going to sleep.
“You seem different.” Bradley studies me, his eyes hot on the back of my neck while I pour some water.
“Bad different?”
He shrugs when I turn to look at him. “Lighter,” is all he says.
I wave him off, bid him goodnight, and head back down the hallways to my room. Thankfully, my loose joggers hid how achingly hard my cock is, given Ivy’s been moaning in my ear for the majority of that conversation. Now that Bradley’s back and the entire Suit is back under one roof, it feels like home again.
Inside my room, I close the door and lock it. Ivy doesn’t seem to have heard me so I approach the bed slowly and watch. Her skin glimmers from sweat in the low light, her rosy nipples are redand stiff, and so clearly eager for a touch. The stimulating gel has done wonders. Her hips rock back and forth, fighting to get away from the toy that remains strapped to her thigh, and despite its low setting, it offers her no respite.
“Ivy?”
“Ruslan?” She flinches with a gasp, her entire body rolling toward the sound of my voice.
