Rico

She can be more than good. She can be perfect.

First seeing the elegant, soft way she responded to my commands, then watching the pleasure rush through her body and overwhelm her - I’ve never seen anything so beautiful and arousing in my life.

She’s like a goddess laid out in my lap, a little touch of heaven, and… I’m getting poetic, and that is not good.

I keep my arms wrapped around her. I like how she feels against me, the weight of her compact form against my chest. She lets her head rest on my shoulder, and for a moment, we’re a couple.

It is very short-lived.

“I have to go,” she says. “My father will have people looking for me.”

“You’re not going back to him. He hit you.”

“He’s been hitting me practically my whole life. Never stopped me going back before.”

I don’t want her to leave my arms, let alone my house, but she is still an active member of a criminal syndicate. I can’t treat her like my girlfriend. I have to keep a certain part of myself reserved and professional.

She rolls off my lap and onto the couch. Cool air rushes in between us, the reality of what we really are. It’s time to get down to business.

“You don’t have to let yourself be treated that way, Jasmine. I can get you witness protection. I can keep you safe. You don’t ever have to go back there again.”

She lets out a cold little laugh, so far from the warmth of her orgasmic moans. “You don’t have the power to keep me safe from my father, Ricky. I’m going home.”

Wrong. She’s not going home, not if I can help it.

She starts reaching for her clothes, putting them on. I want to tell her to stop. I want to keep her naked and have her service that hard part of me which so desperately wants to be inside her. Instead, I let her hide behind the designer fabric, just observing her as the shell goes back on, and the walls come up. Her beauty was open and honest when she came. Now it is back to being a facade. With those clothes, she turns herself into a thing, an idea of a woman, rather than the actual living, breathing human.

“You’re going into witness protection, or you’re going to jail. Your choice.” Ultimatums are always risky, but sometimes you have to play hardball, and I’ve never gotten anywhere by giving her leeway. She responded to command, to certainty, and to dominance. I’m going to keep that up, even as outrage spreads over her pretty face.

“What? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

She stands up. I stay where I am. I can see her ramping up for some serious drama, and I don’t intend on playing into it. This can be easy, if she wants it to be.

“I’m not kidding,” I say calmly. “I can’t let you go back to that life, that world. But if you talk to me, we can make a difference.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she laughs, her voice cold and cynical. Where has that sweet girl who begged for my touch gone? She’s hiding inside this ice maiden whose eyes flash fury at me. “Make a difference? What do you think I am? Some kind of charity worker?”

“I think you’re a little girl who needs to be taken care of.”

Ten minutes ago, that would have made her moan. Now it makes her drag a curse from the bottom of her gut and unleash it on me. I don’t know what language it was, but I can tell it was rude.

“You’re an asshole,” she says, providing the translation.

She’s standing in front of me, spitting fire, but her temper won’t change my mind. I don’t care if she hates me, she’s not going back into danger. Her father is a smart man, and a dangerous, cruel one. He has everything but the instinct to protect his own children. He uses them as pawns. And that means the closer she gets to me, the more likely it is she’ll be seriously hurt.

“Safe house, or jail.” I make the offer again.

“Put me in jail, Rico.”

She thinks I’m bluffing. I’m not. I stand up and reach for the cuffs that are always in that slim fit pouch on the back of my belt.

“Turn around, Francoise.”

She gives me a bitter look.

“Turn around.” I repeat the order, using the tone I use with people I didn’t just watch orgasm.

When she doesn’t obey me right away, I take her by the arm and turn her around. Before I can get a cuff on her, she whirls back, her arm raised, her hand in motion. She slaps me across the face, her little hand leaving a hot sting of female fury.

“I fucking hate you,” she curses at me, her anger so deep, so forceful I know it isn’t about me. I’m taking the shit her father should be taking. I’m being firm, following through on my promises, trying to do the best thing for her, trying to keep her safe. In many ways, I’m already the daddy she never had, and it riles her up inside in a way she can’t handle.

I don’t react to the slap. I know she’s probably left a red mark there, but that will fade. I could have stopped it, but blocking her arm at that speed would have hurt her more than the slap hurt me. You can give someone a really nice bruise when their slim female arm meets your hard muscular one.

I don’t want to mark her. She’s going to leave her mark on me though.

I can see how scared she is, how wild that makes her.

She doesn’t know how to feel safe. Not with me, not with anybody. I’m going to have to fight my way through the layers of mistrust her father has instilled in her, and I have barely begun that task.

The truth is, I am the only friend she has right now. My department wants her behind bars. Her father wants her to keep debasing herself in the name of his crime career. I want something better for her.

I take her wrist, the one she hit me with, and snap the cuff onto it. Then I swing her back around, a dosey-do motion which could almost be a dance, and I snap the second handcuff on her.

“Let’s go, Miss Francoise.”

“No!” She digs her heels in. “Ricky, please…”

Usually when she uses that diminutive form of my name, there’s teasing scorn in it. Now there’s a desperate plea. She doesn’t want to go to jail. And she doesn’t want to go back to her family. What she wants - what she needs, is for me to take charge.

“Not so keen to go to jail, little girl?”

“Maybe not,” she admits. “But I won’t flip on my family.”

Oh, she’ll flip. She’ll sing like a bird. But I’m not going to tell her that. When the time is right, I don’t want some stupid, smug prediction of mine to be the point of pride which keeps her from rolling over. I want to make the good decision easy.

I won’t take her to jail. But I am going to leave the cuffs on her for now. I want her to remember how they feel, that steel restricting her movements, taking just a bit more of her freedom than she wants to give.

I step around her and point at the couch. “Sit down.”

She perches on the edge, her arms behind her back. The position pushes those beautiful breasts out. They’re covered now, but I remember what they look like naked. I remember how those nipples go all tight and hard.

My cock is throbbing in my pants. I want to take it out and push it right into her hot little mouth, but that would break every protocol we have. I snort to myself, realizing I’ve already done that. I am a long way past the point of no return here. If this deal with her works out, I’m going to have to redact swathes of the report just to avoid being fired. But sometimes, the delicious, nubile end justifies the means.

The problem with working inside the law, playing by a set of rules, is that you’re always at a disadvantage when dealing with those who have none. I usually resist that temptation. But right now, I’m betraying a code I’ve lived by for a long time, in order to help a girl who deserves to be in prison. An outsider would look at this and say it’s because she’s hot - and she is. But that’s not why.

I have been keeping my eye on this girl for a very long time. Well over a year. I know her in a way I’ve not known many women. I know her habits, her favorite restaurants. I know her moods, the way she dresses when she’s happy, and the way she dresses when she’s not. I know that she puts her hair up when she wants to be taken more seriously. I know she leaves it down when she’s trying to seduce someone. I know she sometimes drives all the way upstate just to read a book alone. And I know she’s far too bright, precious, and rare to be left to her father to ruin. Sooner or later, he’s going to decide that she’s a bargaining chip he can afford to permanently trade away, and when that day comes, she’ll be lost forever.

“What are you going to do with me now, Ricky?”

She asks the question, her voice husky. More seduction. She flipped into that mode so quickly and easily, it makes my heart ache for her. Living in her father’s world has made her learn to perform sex, like a show. When she was in my arms, that was real, and it only makes this seem more fake in comparison.

“I’m going to look after you.”

“Oh yeah?” She arches a brow and gives me a saucy little smile. “What are you going to do? Are you going to fuck me, Ricky? I can see your erection. I know you want to.”

“What I should do is put you back over that couch and whip your ass raw for raising a hand to me,” I say sternly. “You’ve lost the use of your hands, little girl. Maybe, when you get them back, you’ll behave yourself.”

She rolls her eyes, petulant.

Something buzzes, interrupting her next smart retort. I realize that it’s her phone.

I pluck it from the little purse she carries it in.

“No! Don’t you touch that!” There’s sudden panic in her voice.

I look at the screen. The message is from L. No prizes for guessing who that is.

Where the fuck are you?

“Put my fucking phone down, Agent Rico,” Jasmine swears.

Agent Rico. We’re getting formal.

“Where shall I tell your brother you are?”

“Don’t tell him anything. Put it down!” She sounds panicky. I don’t blame her. This phone could probably bring down her father’s entire operation. I can only imagine the data contained on this slim bit of plastic and metal.

“What will happen if he doesn’t hear from you?”

“I don’t know, probably nothing.”

I don’t believe that for a second.

Answer me, Jaz. You know you’re not allowed out after a job. Dad’s pissed.

“You’re not allowed out?” I glance over the phone at her.

“You wouldn’t believe this, Agent Rico,” she says bitterly. “But some men like to be controlling and stop a woman from going where she wants to go and doing what she wants to do. Some of them even go so far as to handcuff her and threaten to lock her up.”

Dealing with Jasmine means dealing with her daddy issues.

“You’re cuffed because you opted to go to jail,” I remind her.

“I’m cuffed, because you’re a fucking asshole. You took advantage of me. You better let me go, Ricky, or I’m going to sue you so hard you’ll never recover. I’m going to get you fired. You’re going to end up in a Chuck E Cheese wearing a mouse costume, paying me half of every damn wage you collect for the rest of your life.”

I’m sure she means it, but I can’t help the smirk that rises to my lips at the mental image she just painted.

I slide her phone into my pocket. She’s absolutely not getting that back.

Now, the steps are clearer to me. I need to get her to a safe house. I have to earn her trust, without getting walked all over and manipulated. And I have to bring her family down.