CHAPTER NINETEEN
SAM
“Eizo!” shouts the one called Michael, but I can see Eizo’s mind is made. His bonds to duty and his pride, overriding his sense of logic.
Eizo aims his pistol right at me. I don’t see my life flash before my eyes. I don’t see a light-filled tunnel waiting nor feel a sudden rush of euphoria. No, there’s only fear and incredible sadness at what I’m about to leave behind.
I want one more night with Chance before I go, one last chance to feel him against me, inside me, but now that will be lost. Everything I am will be gone in an instant. I hope it’s quick.
I close my eyes, but the shot doesn’t come.
I open them and find something standing in front of me, shielding me.
Chance.
He has his hands out wide, his chest open for the bullet. “Like I said, if you want to kill her, you’ll have to go through me to do it.”
“Eizo!” shouts Michael again, going to take his gun but his brother shoving him to the ground.
“So be it,” grins Eizo,
No, but as he goes to squeeze the trigger there’s a volley of shouting from the left, the right, men in dark uniforms and helmets running to us stopped low with rifles raised. “Down! Down!” they’re shouting. “FBI. Put the gun down!”
I see it on Michael’s face. He knows they’re done, that shooting me now would achieve nothing. At least one of them has enough sense to realize that. He’s already dropped his gun, getting to his knees, hands behind his head, but Eizo is still watching Chance with pistol raised.
He’s going to do it, I think, but even he realizes the stakes are too high.
“Another time.” He slowly lowers the gun before a torrent of officers take both brothers down.
Chance turns and holds me, crushes me against him.
“That was close,” I whimper.
“Way too close,” he replies.
The brothers are silent as they’re led away. I wonder what will become of them, if the corrupt hand of the Mob extends to the FBI. I doubt it. They’re done and they know it.
I break away from Chance to see Agent Roderick approaching.
“Everyone okay?” he queries.
“Took your time,” remarks Chance.
But did they? They arrived awfully fast following the guard’s call. It’s almost as if they were…
A thought occurs to me. I don’t want to believe it at first, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Maybe they decided to leave you out in the open instead of putting you into protective custody for a reason. They used you as bait. They’ve been watching this whole time.
The thought must dawn on Chance too, because he steps away up to Roderick. “Come to think of it, how did you know we were here, and how the fuck did you get here so fast?”
The agent remains steely. “We did what we had to do to keep you and Miss Carter safe, Mr. Adams.”
Chance isn’t impressed. “You could have taken these guys the moment they stepped onto stadium grounds. Why the fuck did you wait until the last second?”
Agent Roderick remains emotionless. “I cannot go into operational decisions with you, Mr. Adams, suffice to say you were in no danger at any—”
“No fucking danger!” shouts Chance. “Are you fucking serious?”
I sense Chance wants to have a real go at him, but I manage to pull him back to me. “Forget about it. We’re together. We’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
He goes to break away, but I hold him tight. “Forget about it. Focus on me. We’re okay. I’m alive. That’s all that matters, right?”
I get through.
He nods. “Yeah, you’re right.”
The kiss that follows is more than a simple meeting of the lips. It’s a promise that nothing will break us apart, that the bond we have is more than skin deep. I know it completely now. This is the man I want to spend my life with.
A young agent leads us back to the parking lot where an ambulance is waiting. Chance helps lift me into the back, but he’s the one who needs attention. There’s a nasty gash above his left eye I can’t remember being there before. I cup his face in my hands. “You should really get that looked at.”
“Sam, is it?” One of the paramedics says, taking out a pocket flash light and shining it into my eyes. I notice she’s checking my pulse at the same time, checking for shock.
When I don’t respond, she says, “You with me, Sam?”
Chance takes my hand and squeezes. My fingers are clammy in his, my skin almost see-through it’s so white. It starts to dawn on me, the horror of what we’ve just been through, the ramifications.
My vision grows a little blurry, the paramedics voice drifting away, further and further.
“Sam?” calls Chance, but it’s muffled. I can’t help it. I slip off, the control I thought I had of myself suddenly lost.
*
“Sam? Sam?”
Chance is standing over me, the young paramedic from before next to him and Morgan on the other side, all three of them looking down at me with matching looks of concern.
I try to sit up, but six hands hold me back down. “Easy,” says the paramedic. “You’ve had quite a shock. Just rest, okay?”
God, I hate being helpless like this, the constant damsel in distress. Why can’t I be a bad ass like Lara Croft or Wonder Woman?
You did just take on two hitmen and survive, didn’t you?
Morgan leans down. “It’s going to be okay Sam, and hey, you can finally move out of that dump of a trailer. What do you say?”
“I’ve got nowhere to go.”
Chance shakes his head. “Not true. My home is your home.”
“You’re asking me to move in with you?”
The paramedic’s close to cracking up. She exchanges a look with Morgan. “We’ll give you two a moment.” They both vanish from sight.
Chance kisses me on the forehead, folding my hair behind my ear. “That’s exactly what I’m asking, baby. I’m never going to let you out of my sight. Like I said, we’re in this together.”
“You saved me.”
He sniffs. “I wouldn’t go that far. I did what anyone would do.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I’m trained for those kinds of situations. It was a piece of cake, honestly.”
“Really? Because at the start there I thought you were going to get your ass handed to you.”
He reels back. “Whoa, whoa. You pass out, wake up, and now you think you’re some kind of gangster? Who is this new and dangerous Sam Carter?”
I smile. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf. Maybe I’m tough and gritty now.”
He tilts his head, fingers dancing up my arm. “Gritty you are not. Did I mention the whole passing out thing?”
I reach up and shove him weakly in the chest. “Why does your chest have to be so damn hard?”
He looks down. “It’s not the only thing.”
I roll my head sideways. “Is sex all you think about?”
“Do you blame me when I’m around the sexiest girl in the world?”
“I don’t know who this mysterious girl is, but it sure isn’t me.”
He leans downs and whispers. “Funny, that’s not what she said when we were sixty-nining the other night.”
“I rest my case.”
“Well, you better rest something, because I need you back in action.”
“Can’t we just close the doors and drive away?”
He shakes his head. “I’m up for a bit of grand theft auto as much as the next guy, but you should know better than anyone that’s not the answer. I mean, it looks like the Feds are on board now, Morgan, David… You’ve got a whole network of support you didn’t have in Vegas and we’re going to make damn sure you’re treated right from here on out.”
“Thank you.” It’s all I can manage.
He winks. “Thank me later when I book us into the Presidential Suite at the Bel-Air for some much-needed R&R.”
“But you’ve got your final game in a few days.”
“And you’re the team masseuse, are you not?”
I can’t help but smile. “I suppose so.”
He reaches down and slowly lifts me up in his arms. “Come on. Let’s blow this place. I’m sick of this damn parking lot and I’m betting you are too.”
*
I slump into a plush sofa. “I’m stuffed.”
Chance sits beside me. “So many questions.”
“I turned your phone off, by the way. It was ringing non-stop.”
Chance smiles, looking out the windows of our hotel suite. “Yes, the press will want their fill, but they can wait. They can all wait.”
“Even the team?”
“Even the team. Besides, didn’t you see that throw I made with the Coke bottle? I’m in fine form.”
The gash above his eye is healing nicely. It’s going to scar, but I kind of like that—a permanent reminder of what he did for me. “That you are.”
I look up to the high ceilings and chandelier dwarfing the room. “How much is this place a night?”
Chance doesn’t miss a beat. “About $15K, give or take, but they gave me a special, World’s Hottest Man rate.”
I’m not even going to touch that one. “Is that a grand piano over there?”
Chance follows my gaze. “Sure is, plus Spanish courtyard, professional kitchen, dining room, Jacuzzi…”
“I take it you’ve been here before then?”
“In a former life.”
“No wonder they give you a discount.”
“Obama hooked me up, actually.”
I raise my eyebrows. “President Obama hooked you up?”
“He’s a big Cats fan, and the Bel-Air is a big Obama fan, so it all worked out in the end.”
He pulls me on top of him. “So, First Lady of my heart, shall we christen that grand piano over there?”
“I can’t play.”
The smile that falls on his face says it all. “We’ll see about that.”
And it’s on.
As soon as Chance cleans himself up, we find our way over to the piano, a trail of clothes left in our wake.
Chance sits up on the keyboard, a dissonant chord following, and smiles.
He pulls me over him. I straddle him naked, his cock sliding between my folds, the piano continuing to ring out atonally. “This is insane.”
“It is, but we’re just going to have to make it work.”
“Does this work for you?”
I lift my hips and I grab his cock, positioning it against my hole and letting myself sink down on his member. He lets out an agonized groan, no doubt pleased to be back inside my wetness, the keys tinkling out of tune.
I nibble at his ear, licking my way down his neck, his shoulder, drifting lower and lower, my breasts brushing him on the way.
“You know,” I say, lips closing around a nipple and releasing, “you can spank me if you like.”
Chance’s head snaps back. “Spank you?
“I want to try it out. Nothing serious.”
“You do?”
I’m a little embarrassed to be admitting this, but it feels better out in the open. And yes, I am keen to explore my newfound sex goddess. After my run-in with death, I’m open to damn near anything.
Chance seems momentarily stunned. “We’ve been rough before, but you sure? You really want this?”
“Yeah,” I have to admit, “I think I do.” I purr. “Maybe it’s just the animal in me.”
Chance shifts from buttock to buttock on the piano. “Can we take it to the bedroom? This seemed like a good idea, but it’s really, really fucking uncomfortable.”
I laugh. “Sure. You can have me anywhere.”
We run to the bedroom hand in hand. He jumps onto the bed on his back. I jump over him, settling onto his cock.
I lower myself beside his head, sucking his earlobe between my lips and biting down on it playfully.
“Okay.” He responds by slapping me on the ass with one hand, keeping his fingers embedded in the soft flesh, lifting it away from my body and letting it fall back into position.
The sound of the blow is still ringing through my body as we kiss, more passionately than ever, the desperation sky-high. I lift myself up and down on his cock, his hips moving to meet me, our bodies slapping wetly together.
He slaps my other ass cheek. “How does that feel?”
I snap upwards, wincing. “Good.”
I rake my fingernails down his chest, hard enough to leave trails. He grits his teeth, lines of red coming to the surface of his skin.
He grabs my ass with both hands and rolls us over until he’s on top, turning me over onto my belly and pinning me below him.
He wraps my hair around his fist, pulling my head up sharply and beginning to hammer into my backside with powerful thrusts that rock the entire bed.
Every thrust is met with an expulsion of air from my mouth, the steady beating of my heart audible in my ears.
I’m driven across the bed with every stroke, the fingers of his free hand digging into my buttocks, spreading them, taking absolutely no prisoners this time around.
He pulls tighter on my hair and I gasp, surprised at how turned on I am by the pain.
“Spank me,” I beg him, “again.”
He responds by lifting his body away enough to drive an open palm into the side of my ass, my cheeks coming wetly together and a bloom of pain fanning out from the fleeting ghost of his fingers.
It feels so fucking good, so fucking amazing I can’t squeeze anything else into my head but the primal need to procreate, to help relieve him of his seed.
I whip my hair out of his hand, jumping forward away from his cock and rolling him onto his back. I straddle him, but this time I don’t allow him to enter me.
Instead, I take his angry cock in my hand, stiff and solid to the touch.
I roll my hand over its helmet. I lather his pre-cum around it, lubricating the head of his cock before pumping his shaft with both hands. He falls back and his mouth opens, eyes closed, an expletive on his lips.
“Let me be inside you,” he pleads.
“Not yet,” I smile.
“I’m not going to be able to hold it. I—”
As I’m fisting his member, marveling at how hot and rigid it is between my hands, I whisper, teasing. “That’s a shame. I was really looking forward to you coming inside me.”
I don’t know why I’m into this power play all of a sudden. All I know is that it feels great. “What if I sucked in a little bit?”
Without warning, I bob my head over his member, lips wrapping around the head. I run my hands up his shaft to meet my lips. I drive them down to the base of him, his entire cock filling my throat. Every time I do this he seizes my hips and rises. He’s sweating profusely, his manly musk all around us.
He holds me by the hair, lifting my head away. His cock sits against his chest wet with my saliva and his own hot juices unnaturally stiff.
“Please. Jesus, please,” he gasps.
The build and anticipation is great, but I know what he wants. I finally decide to give it to him.
I fold off from his body and kneel, lowering my head to the mattress and providing him with a beautiful view of my ass and open pussy. “Don’t be gentle.”
I cannot believe I am doing this, that I’m actually being this kinky. It feels great, amazing.
“I won’t,” he replies.
The first stroke slams me into the headboard. I’m forced to place a hand against it to steady myself as he pummels me from behind.
He drives into me to the hilt. My mouth turns into a ring at the sensation.
“You’re so wet,” he confirms, as his cock glides easily out, driving forward again to be buried deep inside me. I roll my hips back to meet his thrust. It’s effortless, natural. This is how it’s meant to be.
Every thrust is accompanied by a wet slap that rings against the walls, a powerful ripple running through my frame every time.
He spanks me lightly while he fucks me, the force of his blows building until they’re raining down on my ass in a fury.
My pussy twitches against him in expectation. I focus on the feeling of him inside me, the mass of his hard body falling against me, seeking out new and uncharted areas of my body.
His fingers find my clit, circling, teasing me, his cock sliding in and out as I come. A silent scream of rapture claws at my throat, my body shaking and convulsing savagely from the force of the orgasm.
His own follows. He lurches forward. I’m dimly aware of his cum pumping hot into my body, pulsing and collecting there as my passage milks him of every last, pearly drop. He collapses against me, his cock coming free.
“Whoa,” he says. “That was something else.”
“Whoa,” I confirm, ass raw. “What do we do now?”
*
Even when Morgan got involved, the FBI’s official line on whether or not they used me as bait always resulted in a firm “no comment.” I got over it. I had to.
The press wanted their fill, and they got it, but Chance and Morgan shielded me from the worst of it, made sure I was paid and treated accordingly.
As for the two brothers, they’re unlikely to be seeing daylight in a long time. They testified, helping put more scumbags away back in Vegas. I’m not an idiot. I know they could come after me again, but they won’t, especially after the client who I originally turned down was found dead, throat slit from ear to ear.
“You seem a lot better.”
Chance shifts under my hands on the massage table. “Only because you’re a miracle worker.”
“Not many men are gifted with their own personal masseuse, you know.”
I can hear the din of the crowd roaring above, keen to get Super Bowl LI underway.
“Did I say I was complaining?” says Chance.
“You can say whatever you like. Your body tells me all I need.”
“How’s that?” he laughs.
I reach between his legs and take hold of his cock. It responds immediately in the bear trap of my fingers. “Like this.”
“And what’s it telling you?”
“That it wants some attention.”
“Before game time?”
I have to laugh. “And when has that ever stopped you?”