Chapter Nineteen
Andi
“Did you bring your license?”
Paul and I were making our way into the shooting range, he was smiling like a five year old who was getting ready to walk into a candy store. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so thrilled.
“Yes, but do we really have to do this? I already promised not to put myself in that position again. This is pointless.” Not to mention I could already shoot the wings off a fly. Okay, maybe not that, but I was good with a gun.
Paul stopped short, turned me and grabbed my face with both hands. “I’m not taking any chances. If anything would’ve happened to you, I …” I saw the pain and fear in his eyes before he brought his forehead to mine and shook his head.
“Okay, let’s go shoot.” I had to do this for him and pretend I needed to learn how to protect myself. I was certain the only way I was able to get away from the asshole last night was because I had training. If I were a normal hooker, I probably wouldn’t have been so lucky—or I’d have just let the fucker rape me.
After registering at the desk, Paul handed me a pair of ear muffs and we made our way outside. When we got to our station, there was an unloaded glock sitting at on the wood shooting table. Paul picked it up and handed it to me.
“Hold it, get familiar with the weight of it.”
Trying to lighten the mood, before he got another word out I giggled. “That’s what he said.” And it worked. He started that full belly laugh that I loved hearing from him.
After we’d finished our laughing fit, he pointed to a certain part of the gun. “This is the safety. You want this on until you’re ready to shoot.” I nodded, letting him know I was listening. I picked up the loaded magazine, slapped it into the butt of the gun and dragged the slide back.
He stared at me. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”
“I watch a lot of TV?” I tried to state it as a fact, but it ended up coming out like a question.
He loaded a target onto the carrier and pressed a button, causing it to glide back into position. He took a step back. “Okay, gorgeous, come on over.” With my gun still in my hands, I stood in front of him. He came up flush behind me and brought my hands up in front of me. “Hold it like this.” After positioning my hands, he continued, “These peaks up here are your sights. You want your target to line up with them. Go ahead and cock it.”
At the mention of cocking it, I rotated my hips back into his. He let out a hiss and grabbed my hips.
He leaned in, shifted a side of my earmuffs and whispered, “Careful, gorgeous, it’s hard enough not to bend you over this fucking bench and fuck you with everyone watching. Watching you standing here all sexy and strong with a gun in your hand is making me hard as a fucking rock.” I could feel his warm breath in my ear as he ground his now hardened dick into my ass.
I looked behind me. “It’s your fault. You keep talkin’ all sorts of dirty.”
He chuckled. “Okay, let’s focus before I do something that gets us kicked out of here for indecent exposure. Once you’ve kicked the hammer back, take aim and slowly pull the trigger back. Make sure you keep your arms stiff … tight. Keep your arms tight. The kickback can be a bitch.”
I did just that, but knowing I couldn’t let on that I knew what I was doing, I lazily took aim and pulled the trigger. My shot landed just outside the black rings on the target.
“Come on baby, you got this. Focus.”
Hearing encouraging words from Paul was all I needed. I took my stance and lifted my gun. Practicing my shooting at the range back in D.C., I used to imagine it was Marco’s face—or what I could remember from that dreadful night—plastered on the targets I shot at; now it was the face of the prick who tried to rape me.
I unloaded the entire magazine into the target, each one landing on the bullseye. As Paul had previously instructed, I flipped the safety on and lowered my glock, trying to get my breathing under control. I went stiff and froze, not remembering that Paul was standing behind me. I just blew my fucking cover. I knew it. When I turned around, Paul was gawking at me with his mouth open, trying not to smile.
“That has got to be the sexiest fucking thing I have ever seen. I had a feeling you’d rock this shit.”
I set my gun down on the table, walked over to him and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “All right, sexy, let’s see whatcha got.”
Walking past me, he gave my ass a little swat. “Watch and learn, baby, watch and learn.” Letting out a sigh of relief, I cursed myself. It was getting harder and harder to lie to him. I loved him. I didn’t want to lie. I didn’t want to hurt him. After taking a few more rounds each, we called it a day. Although I knew what I was doing, Paul was an amazing teacher. If Gabe was like him, they were going to be expanding the self-defense classes sooner rather than later.
Paul threw an arm around my waist and pulled me in. “Let’s get home, gorgeous. After what I just witnessed, I wanna get home and love hard on my girl.” He kissed me senseless, leaving me breathless …
Again.
Just through the garage door, Paul spun me around and grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me over his shoulder giving my ass a slap.
“I think we both need to unwind tonight, baby. I see a bottle of tequila, two shot glasses and you naked in the near future.”
“Oh, so you’re a fortune teller now?”
He plopped me down on the kitchen countertop and made his way over to the cabinet he always kept stocked with liquor. “What’ll it be tonight, gorgeous?”
“Um … Jose?”
“Good choice.” He winked at me and I blushed. I wasn’t sure I would ever tire of the way he had that effect on me.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
After setting the bottle next to my thigh, he made his way to the other side of the kitchen and pulled out two shot glasses and the table salt just before grabbing a lime from the fruit basket. When he turned and caught me staring, he let out a chuckle.
“What? You have done tequila shots before, right?”
I hopped off the counter and made my way over to him, grabbed the lime to slice it into wedges and repeated the words he’d said to me at the firing range. “Watch and learn, baby, watch and learn.”
Then I grabbed all of the contents out of his hands except one of the shot glasses and turned to pour myself some Cuervo while Paul made his way to the other side of the counter and leaned on his elbows to watch. Knowing he was watching me, I gave the area between my thumb and pointer finger on my hand a slow, long lick with the flat of my tongue and grinned when I heard him groan.
I sprinkled the salt onto the spot I’d licked, grabbed a lime wedge with the same hand and my shot of Jose with the other, and gave him my best devious smile. “Cheers.” I licked my hand and tossed back the tequila just before lifting the lime to my mouth and sucking it.
Paul stood up and slowly walked over to me. The look in his eyes caused the junction between my legs to spasm. He looked like a wild cat closing in on his prey. “Oh no, no, no, gorgeous. You did that all wrong. Who showed you how to do a tequila shot? Let’s correct this, shall we?”
I nodded and bit my lip, stifling a squeal as he grabbed my waist and hoisted me back up on the countertop. Pulling the strap of my tank top down my arm with my bra strap, his eyes met mine briefly before he lowered his to the side to untwist the top to the salt shaker with one hand and empty it onto the granite countertop before pouring himself a shot. When he moved his face back into my line of sight, he was smiling.
“As I’ve said before, the correct way …” He fused his mouth to mine causing me to moan just before he disconnected, placed a lime wedge between my lips and whispered into my ear, “Is to take the shot …”
Lowering his head, he ran his tongue along the skin at my collar bone. Goosebumps spread across my entire body and I knew if he kept this up, I was going to end up leaving a wet spot on the counter from how turned on he was making me. I closed my eyes and tipped my head to the side to give him more access.
His lips left my neck and a hand came up and rubbed the coarse salt where his mouth had been. He leaned back down near my ear, and while placing the shot glass between my tits, he whispered, “… off someone else’s skin.”
I could feel the abrasion of the salt against my skin as Paul licked it from my neck. He cupped both of my breasts and lightly ran his thumb pads over my now oversensitive nipples while taking the shot glass from in between them with his mouth. He threw his head back to help the alcohol slide down the back of his throat before catching the empty shot glass between our bodies and setting it beside us. He then reached up, grabbed my face with both hands as he took the lime from between my lips and gave it a quick suck before he let that fall between us before he claimed my lips.
“Your way is much better,” I panted.
“I don’t like this,” Paul groaned, crossing his arms as he watched me apply the final touches of my makeup.
“We’ve gone over this. It’s an S&R date.”
“It’s too soon.”
“I’ll be fine.” I screwed the cap on the tub of my mascara and threw it on the counter. I started to walk down the hall to the kitchen.
“I’m going with you.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “You’re not going with me on my date.”
“Yes, I am.” He was talking nonsense.
I grabbed my purse off the kitchen table, needing to leave. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine. It’s an S&R date, not a top secret date that I will never go on again.”
So … that may or may not be true. I still needed more research. I’d had one date that ended badly. I didn’t know who Martinez was and I needed to find more girls who could get me closer to meeting him.
After the incident at the Wynn, I’d called the secure line for the FBI and reported it. I’d needed to let Eric know. I needed to report my findings, and if the man had died then the bureau could handle it since I was undercover and my DNA and prints were all over the room. I was also probably caught on camera fleeing the scene.
“Do you have your gun?” Paul looked down at my purse in my hands as I opened the front door. We bought me one at the range before we left. There was no way he was letting that slide even though I already had one in my room.
“Yes, sexy.” I kissed him quickly before walking out the front door. Paul grabbed his keys and started to walk toward the garage. “Where are you going?”
“Going on your date.”
I put a hand on my hip. “You’re serious?”
“As a fucking heart attack.”
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop him, so I rolled my eyes, got in my car and backed out of the driveway. When I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, Paul parked beside me. I glared at him and shook my head.
“Gorgeous,” he called out.
“You better stay at the bar,” I whispered and kept walking, not wanting to bring attention to us. I didn’t want to stop in case my date was already inside the restaurant and could see. I wasn’t at a hotel because my date was only for lunch. I’d never had a lunch date before; maybe he thought it would end with a nooner. Guess we’d find out. I was getting good at turning them down for sex—minus Martinez’s guy who clearly got off raping women.
I walked into the Mexican food restaurant and to the hostess stand. “I’m meeting a Mr. Sanchez for lunch,” I explained.
She looked at her reservation list on her computer. “Yes, we have your reservation, but he hasn’t arrived. It says to go ahead and seat you.”
“Perfect,” I replied.
I looked over my shoulder and gave Paul a tight smile before following the hostess to the back corner of the restaurant. As we walked, I noticed the restaurant had minimal people, but yet she took me to the farthest corner of the restaurant. I didn’t think much of it. Mr. Sanchez had probably requested a quiet table where we could be alone and he wouldn’t get caught with an escort.
I sat with my back to the wall, facing the bar. I was able to see Paul and would see Mr. Sanchez when he arrived. I didn’t want to admit it but having Paul there put me at ease. I wasn’t in a hotel room and I would never be in one again with a client, but having my man there was like having backup even if I had my gun sitting in my clutch purse that was on the table.
The busser came over and left a glass of water, a basket of tortilla chips and a dish of salsa. I caught the gaze of Paul. I expected him to be sipping a Coke and tequila, but he too was drinking water. He winked at me and I blushed. I couldn’t help it. No matter how mad I was that he’d insisted on coming with me to my date, I still loved him with all of my heart. I knew he was only doing it because he loved me. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if that man had raped me. It would have destroyed everything we’d built. I don’t think I would have been able to survive it, let alone the touch of a man again.
“Preciosa.” Gorgeous.
I looked up and into the same eyes I looked into every day in the mirror and blinked, unable to say anything. My mouth went dry. My heart stopped beating. I was certain I couldn’t breathe.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid into his chair in front of me. “Have we met before?”
We had.
I’d raised him from the moment he was born until I went running for my life.
My gaze flicked to Paul’s—I needed him. I needed him to breathe because I couldn’t. This wasn’t happening. What did I do? How did I tell the man sitting across from me that he was my brother?
“That’s not possible. I know all the whores in this town.”
He didn’t recognize me, but I was sure of it. This was my brother. My gaze flicked down to his hand that was running along the condensation of the ice water. Along the inside of his palm was the mark from the cigarette burn my mother gave him when he was four and she’d used him as an ashtray.
I smiled tightly and took a sip of my water, trying to think of what to do. He’d hired me as an escort. Obviously I wasn’t going to—gross!
“So tell me, Andi,” he leaned forward, crossed his hands on the table and looked into my eyes, “what do you think gives you the right to disobey my orders?”
My head tilted to the side in confusion. “Your orders?”
He smirked. “You don’t know who I am?”
“Bryce,” I whispered.
He leaned back in his chair. “Well, that’s funny. Usually the whores I fuck are the only ones who know my first name.”
“I—”
“Which one of my whores is running her mouth, Andi? Huh?” He hit the table with his fist and I jumped. Paul looked over and I shook my head slightly.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He leaned forward again. “I’ll ask you again. What gives you the right to disobey my orders?”
“What orders?” I asked, scrunching my eyebrows.
“Come on, Andi. Don’t play stupid. I know some of you whores are stupid, but you don’t look like one of them. Jasmine told me you were smart. Let’s act like it.”
My head cocked back. “Jasmine?”
“Okay, so you are stupid.” He laughed.
My gaze flicked to Paul and he was staring at us. I wanted to motion for him to come sit with us, be my back-up. I felt like my head was spinning. I was talking about one thing and Bryce was talking about another—and then it clicked.
“You’re Martinez?”
“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner, folks!”
When I’d left the hotel twelve years ago, I thought I would return to the trailer park to save Bryce, but forty-eight hours later I’d learned that Tony took him and my mother, only to never be heard of again—until now. I never knew why.
As I stared into the honey eyes that were similar to mine, I knew there was no saving this man I didn’t know. It was too late. Even though he had my eyes, his weren’t warm and inviting. They were cold and dark, as if they didn’t care if he lived or died on any given day. Tony had raised him and made him the man he was today. The boy I was raising would never treat a woman the way he was speaking to me. He would never call women whores. Would never order a woman around. He would be more like Paul—more like Seth even.
I gave Paul one final look and then I acted. Whatever happened beyond this point was out of my control. I had a gun and if I had to shoot my own blood, then that was what I was going to do. Paul raised his eyebrows and his gaze lowered to my hand as it went inside my clutch. I saw him reach behind his back as I pulled my gun out and stood.
“FBI. Get on the fucking ground, hands behind you back.” I pointed my gun at Bryce and he laughed.
Paul stood with a look of confusion on his face as his gaze went back and forth between me and my brother.
“Get on the fucking ground!” I repeated, the gun in both of my hands as I pointed it at him.
Two big goons ran in behind Bryce. Paul pulled his gun and pointed it at them. They skidded to a stop and drew their own guns. “All right, everyone needs to calm the fuck down,” Bryce interjected, trying to get everyone to lower their weapons. People in the restaurant were screaming and running for the doors.
“Bryce, you’re not running the show. Get on the fucking ground. I’m not going to ask you again!”
Bryce laughed again, grabbing his belly as though he couldn’t contain himself. “I don’t take orders from whores!”
Reaching into my purse, I grabbed my wallet and pulled my badge out. “Does this look like I’m fucking around?” I shouted, showing him my credentials that accompanied the gold plated badge.
The sound of guns cocking followed by pop, pop, pop sent the room into a frenzy. Pain tore through the flesh of my right arm, causing me to lose my balance as I saw Paul rush Bryce. He tackled him, sending them both crashing into the wood table. Fists flew as Paul connected his with Bryce’s jaw and I scrambled to my feet. Paul flipped him over, pulling Bryce’s arms behind his back with a little more force than necessary.
With the barrel of the gun against the back of his head, I repeated myself again to Bryce, “Hands behind your back.”
Paul held him as I looked for Bryce’s guys. They were lying motionless in puddles of blood where they stood before.
“You shot them?” I asked Paul.
“They shot at you first.”
I looked down at my arm, blood trickled down and onto the butt of the gun I was aiming at Bryce on the floor. Sirens could be heard in the distance and I knew I would be fine. “Thank you.”
“When were you going to tell me you were FBI?”
I sighed. “I couldn’t.”
“Why? You told me other things.”
“I’m undercover.”
He gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Is your name even Andi?”
I was tired of lying. I was tired of lying to everyone. I’d been lying for twelve years. And most of all, I loved Paul. I loved him so much. I wanted to spend forever with him. I wanted to hear him call me by my real name—groan my real name when he made love to me. Tell the real me that he loved me.
“You’ll want to hear this too,” I said to Bryce as I nudged his side with my foot. He snorted as if I lost my mind, but turned his head as if curiosity got the best of him.
“My name’s Joselyn Marquez.”