Chapter 9

 

My phone rings like crazy on the floor where I kicked it last night. I slide out of the bed before grabbing it.

“What!” I snap into the phone. I don’t want to hear anyone’s shit today. I was enjoying my sleep.

“You haven’t been answering your phone, Rocland.” That one voice sends ice cold chills down my spine. It’s the one voice, I wished like hell I’d never come in contact with.

“I do have a life outside of you.” His huff means nothing. I don’t give a damn if he has me by the balls or not, he won’t run my entire life.

“I control your life–need I remind you.” His tone pushes me closer to breaking. I don’t need his shit today.

“What is it you want, Martin?” I ask before glancing over my shoulder at Aria.

“That’s better. I hear you’re out of town at the moment, but as soon as you arrive home, we need to talk.” I close my eyes because talks with Martin never end well.

“Talk now. I have shit to do.” I have to stay clipped with him. There is no other way. This man is the epitome of the devil.

“I need your services, Rocland. I won’t discuss details over the phone. I expect you in my office in two days.” The line goes dead before I can say anything further.

“Fuck!” I want to slam my fist into a wall. I want to rip that motherfuckers head off.

“Are you ok?” I jerk my body around to look at Aria as she sits on the bed, holding a sheet to her chest.

“Yeah. Sorry I woke you.” The slight smile on her lips makes my heart melt. I don’t know what it is about this girl, but she pulls me in.

“I need to get up anyway. We’re leaving today.” There it is. The stake to my heart.

“Oh.” I can’t say anything else. What the hell am I going to say? Please stay with me? I’m feeling things I’ve never felt in a two-day period? What kind of wimpy shit is that? I grab my jeans and drag them back on while Aria goes for hers. I don’t know what to say to her.  My mind is a mess at the moment with club shit, and now Martin and his blackmail are now in play. I run my hand through my hair before dropping on the couch. I place my head in my hands as everything seems to overwhelm me. I don’t look up until I feel her warmth.

“We don’t have to say goodbye. We only live thirty minutes apart, Roc.” As much as I’d like to say that’s true, I can’t. We have to say goodbye.

“We may live thirty minutes apart, sweetheart, but our lives are a million miles away.” I reach up and grab her hips before pulling her into my lap.

“I won’t say that it isn’t temptin’ though. There’s somethin’ in you that brings out a light of hope. Never lose that.” Pressing my lips to hers, she doesn’t move. She doesn’t kiss me back either.  It’s a strange feeling that slams into my stomach. The one good thing I’ve found in the last few days, is the one thing I can’t have.

Just my luck. 

***

Being home is the best. I’ve never realized how much I missed it. The guys go on about business but now I have to deal with Martin.  The ride to his office is perfect. The air is warm but the sunshine is incredible. I often find myself wondering what my boys in the prison think about. Do they think about all the women they are missing out on–the sun–the air in general? I hang my helmet on the handlebars. Cracking my neck from side to side, I shake out the anger that rears its ugly head inside of me.  I can’t go into this meeting ready to cut the son of a bitches head off, or he might have my ass joining my boys in prison. I strut into the building with my head held high. I may hate the motherfucker but I won’t let him break me down in front of anyone. I am who I am. I press the button for the elevator and wait, when a pretty little thing steps up next to me.

Her eyes roam over my body before actually looking at my eyes.

“Hi,” she says, her sweet soft voice calling to me. I know her type, though. The type that wants to take a ride with a bad boy for the night. Not happening this time. Corporate stuck up bitches. We step into the elevator, only her and I. She presses herself extremely close for it only being the two of us.

“What’s your name?” She asks seductively. I glance down at her with a grin. Oh, what the hell... I might as well add sexual assault to my record. I spin around, gripping her hips before pinning her against the wall. I grind my hardening dick against her as little moans leave her mouth.

“Stop tryin’ to play with the big boys, sweetheart. We bite.” The doors chime behind me signaling my time to get off. I leave her there in a world of want that she will never get. I saunter my way down the hall toward assholes office. I don’t knock. I don’t give a shit what he says.

“Meetin’s over,” I say as I glance around at the three other men in the room before they all turn to look at me.

“Rocland Bishop. Have you no manners?” Martin asks, as he gives me a slight grin only to appease his little audience.

“You told me to be here.”  I lean against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest.

“Gentlemen. If you wouldn’t mind, we will move this meeting to the conference room.” I watch the uptight asses shove out of their chairs before marching in a perfect line past me. Martin slams the door before getting in my face, which isn’t the best decision on his part. My arms fall to my sides as we stand in a silent stare down.

“You’re rude,” he says, walking away as I laugh. Rude?

“That’s the best you got? I’ll take it,” I chuckle, walking back over to sit in the chair across from his desk.

“I called you to come in, not to make a fool of yourself. Don’t forget, I own you.” I have to cut him off there. I don’t need to hear his line of shit again.

“You think you own me. You know things you shouldn’t. That’s the extent of that.” I say, resting my elbows on my knees as I glare at him. I dare him to keep this little charade of his going.

“I need Malcom Davidson, dead.” Shocker. I saw that one coming a mile away.

“Of course, you do. How long?” Short and to the point.

“By the weekend.” Passing me a file, I scan through it quickly. Name, address, phone numbers. Bar’s he likes to attend. It’s all the same. Pulling the picture free of the paperclip, I pass the file back to him. I won’t be needing all that evidence.

“Done.”