Lorenzo “Hustler” Ricci

“Wait,” Lyric said, as we were getting ready to leave. “I don’t have cash for buying stuff. I mean, I have a credit card from Mike and Mimi, but I don’t want to take their money. But I do have these.” She pulled what looked like an old leather purse out of her backpack, her long hair flowing forward and obscuring her face in shiny brown waves. “June gave them to be before I left, said they belonged to my grandmother’s family.”

When she opened the purse and dumped the contents on the bed, I just about had a heart attack. See, I’ve been in the loan and pawn industry for years now, and I take my job seriously. Part of that job is learning the jewelry trade, and right away I recognized some of the old boxes scattered about the bed. Tiffany, Cartier, and old-school Bulgari. Some of the boxes were worn with time, while others were in pristine condition.

“Where did you get these?”

Her dark brows lowered as she frowned at me. “I inherited them from my grandmother. June gave them to me and told me to sell them so I had some starting-out money.”

I swore my fingers trembled a little as I picked up a black Cartier necklace box and examined it. For all I knew, cheap costume jewelry could be stored inside, but I had a feeling that wasn’t the case. Opening the lid, I stared at the three-tier diamond choker, then gently took it out and examined the hallmarks on it. The necklace sparkled like fire in my hands and I blew out a soft breath.

“Tell me again how you got this?”

Lyric repeated her story, adding that the jewelry had been passed down for three generations, then sat down on the bed next to the boxes, curling her legs beneath her. “Do you think it’s worth much?”

I stared at her, then realized she was being sincere. Damn, she had no idea what she had, and why would she? I doubt they taught the kids at her church much about worldly goods and money out there in cult-land.

“I can’t give you an accurate price without having my equipment to really check out the diamonds, but if I were to give you an educated guess, I’d say this necklace alone is worth around $80K.”

She gaped at me, her jaw hanging open and her eyes as wide as an owl’s. “Eighty thousand dollars?”

“Yeah. Let’s see what else you have.”

After going through the boxes, I sat down next to Lyric and took her hand in mine ’cause she looked a little shell-shocked. “All told, I’d say you’ve got close to a million dollars in jewelry right here. Maybe more—hell, probably more.”

“I don’t…that can’t be right.”

“Angel, I’ve been in the jewelry business for close to a decade now, and I’ve seen all kinds of pieces come into my pawn shop. The majority of what you have here are from the early 1900s, a few pieces from maybe the 1940s and 50s. You said they came to you from your grandma’s family?”

“Yes.” She picked up an emerald ring with a stone as big as my pinky nail.

“Well, someone had great taste. Back when these pieces were made, they were the best of the best. They still are. Do you know anything about your grandma’s family?”

“Not really. My grandmother didn’t talk about them. She disapproved of their lifestyle, said they worshiped money instead of God and their greed had brought evil into the family. I do know that she had a sister and brother who passed away some years ago, but that she was pretty much the last Hoovatter other than some cousins I met at my great-grandfather’s funeral a long time ago. I also know her family ran a shipping business out of Corpus Christi and that’s about it.” She placed the ring back into its box after briefly trying it on. “Do you think you can help me sell this stuff?”

I made a mental note to check into Lyric’s family as I began to put the boxes back into the leather bag. “Lyric, this is your family’s legacy. I think you should hold onto it for at least a little bit and think about keeping most of it. Someday you may want to pass some of these pieces down to your own children.”

“But I’m going to need money to live off of.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. I’ve got you covered for whatever you want.”

“But—”

I placed my scarred and tanned fingers over her lips. “No buts. I don’t want to sound like an arrogant dick, but I’ve got money. Plenty of it and even if you bought an entire store’s worth of clothes, it wouldn’t make a dent in my bank account.”

She grabbed my hand and gently pulled it away from her mouth. “I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”

Her big, sincere eyes gazing up into mine made something in my chest tighten. “You’re not. I’m offering because buying you things, making you happy, makes me feel good. I like making you happy.”

“I don’t need you to buy me things to make me happy.”

“I know that, and I believe you, but the thought of you wearing clothes I provided for you, feeling good about yourself because of something I did…I guess it appeals to my inner caveman. You know, me-hunt-for-my-woman type shit. Except instead of dressing you in woolly mammoth skins I’m taking you to the best place I know for women’s stuff.”

That got the smile I wanted out of her and she wrapped her arms around me in a hug. “Okay, caveman.”

 

Later that day, I watched with amusement as the sales associates at the Neiman Marcus outside of Fort Worth treated Lyric like a queen. When I’d shown the personal shopper that had been assigned to my girl my black credit card, and told her to get Lyric a new wardrobe, she’d practically creamed her panties. I’d taken the personal shopper aside and explained that Lyric grew up in a very sheltered household, and that she’d need someone to be patient with her and explain everything. The personal shopper hadn’t even blinked. I’m sure they got a lot weirder requests, and she had treated Lyric with kid gloves.

Knowing my girl was in good hands, I wandered away from the entrance of the private fitting room they had Lyric stashed away in, and took out my phone.

There were a bunch of messages from Sarah asking about Lyric, as well as a couple from Beach and Smoke, also warning me to take care of her. Sledge sent me a message letting me know shit had been quiet since I left and I answered a bunch of business emails while I waited. After checking in on Lyric—she gave me a desperate look as the ladies were explaining the different cuts of women’s jeans—I went back out and called a contact of mine.

“Hustler,” Morrey said, with obvious happiness in his old, weathered voice. “Good to hear from you, my boy.”

“Hey, Morrey. I got some research I need you to do for me.”

A retired lawyer down in San Antonio, Morrey was something of an amateur historian. Lyric had said her grandma’s people came from Corpus Christi, and I knew Morrey had studied the genealogy of the area. He collected old family Bibles, the kind with generations of names written into the front. Whenever my shop got one of those Bibles to sell—which sadly happened more often than you’d think—I’d call Morrey first.

“What’cha got for me?”

“Not much. I need to know if you’ve ever heard of the Hoovatter family in Corpus Christi.”

His deep, raspy laugh was broken by a cough. “My boy, you must live under a rock. At one time, the Hoovatters were Corpus Christi. They ran the biggest shipping empire in the area from ’bout the 1880s up to the 1940s. The family lost a bunch of their men in World War II and it changed the Hoovatters. Their best and brightest had died overseas and left behind a generation of widows and no real leaders. There was infighting over how to run the company, and they ended up tearing the company, and each other, apart in their greed. Sad affair.”

“You know what happened to them?”

“Last I’d heard, the family had all but vanished. Why do you ask?”

“I have a friend who might be a direct descendant.”

“Doubtful.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The family has died almost entirely out. Only a few of ’em had kids, and most of those kids died young. In fact, only one original daughter remains. She’s gotta be close to a hundred now, if she’s even still alive. The last remaining direct heir, and a complete recluse. Found God or some shit. Once she goes, there will be a lot of fighting among the remaining distant cousins for her slice of the pie.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The Hoovatter fortune. Have you been drinking? You’re usually quicker than this.”

“Yeah, sorry. Long nights. How can there be a fortune? You just said they destroyed the company.”

“They did, but that wasn’t their only source of wealth. Some of the family had diversified their money, invested in land in the ever-expanding west, or put their cash into railroads and upcoming businesses. Each of the kids had a very large trust fund, and a team of top-of-the-line investors to manage it. I’d reck’n the good Sister Hoovatter is worth a couple hundred million.”

My legs felt loose. “Sweet mother.”

“Yep. But, like I said, she’s pretty much disappeared off the face of the earth. Wherever she went to ground, she hid herself well.”

“What…what if she had direct descendants? Like a daughter-in-law and a granddaughter.”

“Well, I’m no longer a lawyer, so I suppose I’m free to speculate. I’d say the granddaughter would stand to inherit, but the daughter-in-law or a trustee would probably be in charge of the trust until the granddaughter came of age.”

“I see. And how old is ‘of age’?”

“Depends on the will, but usually anywhere from eighteen to twenty-five.”

Things began to fall into place. “So Ly—the fictional granddaughter—would be worth millions, but she may not even know it.”

“In theory, yes, but like I said, I’m speculating on a will I’ve never seen, from a person I’ve never met.”

“Right. Look, I’ve gotta go. Thanks again.”

“I’ll take a look around, ask some of the old farts I know if anyone remembers anything.”

“Be subtle.”

“Of course, I’ll be subtle, I’m not an idiot and I’m very good at reading people. If you happened to know a fictitious granddaughter, I’d advise you to keep her safe. You may be a criminal, but you’re an honorable man. I know you’ll do the right thing by her. In theory, of course. But I wouldn’t say anything to her about a fictional inheritance that might not even exist. Let me talk to some of the old folks I know down there and see if I can’t get one of them to tell me more. They may not remember what day it is, or year, but their memories of their youth are usually crystal clear.”

“Thanks again, Morrey.”

“Thank you. This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

I winced as he hung up and rubbed my aching eyes. What the fuck did I do now? My phone buzzed, but I powered it down, shoving it in my back pocket as I walked back through racks of women’s clothes to the fitting room. When I knocked at the door, it swung open to reveal a frazzled-looking Lyric and two equally frazzled sales associates.

“Hustler…” She let out a relieved smile when I pulled her into a hug, but her voice was high-pitched with tension as she said, “Is it time to go?”

This was not the look of a happy woman, and I glared at the two sales associates. “Out.”

One gave Lyric a pat on the shoulder as she passed and I had to resist the urge to smack her hand away. My girl was softly shaking against me, and I held her close. She gripped me tighter, and I ran my hand down her hair, barely noticing she wore a pale cinnamon-colored dress that was silky beneath my fingers.

“What’s wrong? Did those bitches say something to you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just…well, I got overwhelmed. And you weren’t there when I checked and I think I freaked out a little. I felt all alone, and scared when I realized I had no idea what to do without you.”

Feeling like an enormous asshole, I winced. “I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t even think about how you would react if I wasn’t there. I thought you’d know I just stepped away for a minute and I’d be right back. I would never abandon you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’ll get better, I promise. I’m sorry I’m such a weak mess.”

“Hey, hey, hey…” Crouching down a bit so I could look her in the eyes, I said, “You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not, though. I only feel strong when I’m around you. The feeling that hit me when I saw you weren’t there…I don’t like it.”

Even though I knew it was a lie, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Then I won’t leave your side. Problem solved.”

“You’ll get tired of me, get tired of having to explain every damn thing to me like I’m a moron. I know you will.”

“Are you kidding? I get to watch you experience things for the first time, to help you explore the world. Through your eyes, everything is new, an adventure, and being with you is the rush of a lifetime. It’s selfish as fuck, but I love knowing you need me that much. Knowing that you trust me, sweetheart, it goes straight to my cock.”

I grabbed her hand and pressed it against my aching erection, the rush of blood filling it so quick it hurt. “Feel what you do to me?”

Her eyes darkened and went slumberous. “I do.”

Moving back just a little bit, I took in the pretty silk dress that hugged her body.

“You look gorgeous in that dress.”

Her grip on my shaft tightened, and I bucked my hips as pleasure tightened my balls. “Thank you.”

“Shame I’m gonna have to destroy it.”

Before she could question me, I began to tear the delicate clothing from her until she stood there in the tattered remains of the dress. Beneath, she had a black lace bra and panty set on, her big tits close to spilling out of the top. Using the scraps of her dress, I began to tie her hands together.

“Hustler! What are you doing? That dress cost a lot of money. Anyone could come in at any moment!”

With a sigh, I jerked the door open and made eye contact with our personal shopper waiting for us. “My woman is going to try some outfits on for me. We don’t want to be disturbed. Oh, and while she’s modeling for me, I want you to go to the shoe department and get her seven pairs of heels, two pairs of boots, and a bunch of comfortable shoes, along with some hiking boots. Nothing she’ll break her neck in and nothing too slutty. Also, grab some makeup for her and a bunch of lingerie.”

Giving me a shiny, professional smile, she nodded. “Of course.”

Closing the door behind her, I made my way back to the private dressing room, past the small runway and the circular mirror at the end.

I paused, then looked into the mirror with a smile.

When I got back to the dressing room, Lyric was still standing there, nervous and aroused. Moving slowly, I stripped off my vest and shirt, then began to work on my jeans. Instead of taking them off, I just rolled them down a little and tugged my cock out. Lyric let out a greedy moan at the sight of my dick and I palmed it.

“You want this?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

My stomach clenched. “On your knees.”

She sank before me, surprisingly graceful as she knelt. Looking up at me, she licked her pink lips, a blush burning her cheeks. I ran my thumb over her lower lip, then slipped it inside and allowed her to suck on it. “Yeah, that’s it. Take me in that sweet mouth.”

Moving my thumb in and out, I stroked it against her tongue, the anticipation of having my dick there driving me crazy.

I wrapped my fist in her hair and made a handle out of the long strands. “Come with me.”

Maneuvering her into the mirrored private dressing room, I steered her to the dais at the end of the runway.

Positioning her so her thighs were spread, I smiled at the sight of her staring into the mirror and blushing.

“You look so hot,” I murmured while stroking her, wanting her to be just a little uncomfortable, not a lot. “So pretty getting ready to swallow my dick.”

I shifted so she could watch while I slid between her lips. With her hands bound in front of her, she had to spread her legs wide for balance, the black lace of her panties tightening against her swollen labia. A wet spot in the crotch was clearly visible and I couldn’t resist the need to see more.

“Don’t lose my dick, but I want you to take your panties off.”

She struggled to do as I told her, the added difficulty of doing it with her hands loosely tied only adding to my desire. When her panties were finally off, and she still had the sensitive head of my shaft in her hot little mouth, she made a small noise of triumph. Leaning forward, she tilted her butt and devoted herself to sucking my dick. I’d never had a woman so eager to do this for me before, and the sight of her wet pussy in the mirror had me cupping the back of her head and urging her on.

Wet noises came from below and I groaned as she licked my balls, then rubbed her cheek against my rock-solid shaft. Her gaze was still on the mirror where she watched herself giving me head. It must have turned her on, because her hips were thrusting against the air in time to her sucks. The more I pushed her down on my dick, the wilder she got, until she was gagging and moaning around the swollen head of my prick.

The feeling was too much, and I pulled her off with a gasp.

“Show me that pretty pussy. On your hands and knees, baby.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Fuck, that sweet voice she used killed me. Once she was down on all fours, I moved her so her bound hands were stretched out in front, and her head resting on the floor. With her hips propped up high in the air, she was beautifully open for me and her cunt was begging for my dick. Her hands clenched as I ran my erection over the wet lips of her labia, taking some time to work her clit with my piercings. She started to thrust back into me, chasing my dick with her hips. I let her play for a little bit before groaning as I held still and let her push back.

As I filled her, I gripped her hips, forcing her to go slow as she took me. She was a small girl, with a tight cunt, and I had a feeling I’d have to ease her open every time we fucked. I watched her hands grip into fists, her knuckles turning white as she thrust back into my strokes, making us both groan. Running my hand down her spine, I flicked open her bra and leaned over, bracing myself above her with one hand, and playing with her stiff nipple with the other. Her cries and moans increased in volume until she began to tighten around me.

Despite my best efforts, she once again milked the orgasm out of me, her pussy sucking and pulling at me until I had no choice but to cum inside of her. Covering her with my body, I held her bound hands down as I pounded out my climax into her sweet heat. Groaning low in my throat, I slowly slid out, then kissed my way down her back to her rounded ass cheeks. She sighed and shivered beneath my mouth, and I smiled against her skin as I rested my head on her plump ass.

We had a few minutes of peace before Lyric stiffened, then said, “Oh no, everyone heard us! They totally know what we were doing. I can’t go out there, I’m so embarrassed.”

Chuckling, I sat up, then grabbed my underwear to clean myself up, then Lyric. “Don’t be. I’ve spent enough money today that they won’t care what the fuck I do.”

“That’s another thing,” she complained as I loosened the impromptu restraints from her wrists. “Everything is so expensive! We could buy enough fabric to make a hundred dresses for the cost of that red dress you just destroyed.”

I was reminded that Lyric might be in a position someday to buy this store a thousand times over, and I stopped her rant with a kiss. “I don’t care about money. I care about making you happy.”

 

We decided to skip eating out, and instead ordered room service. We ate on the bed, sharing stories about what it was like growing up. She was funny, bright, and I hated how quickly time was going. Tomorrow we’d have to get out on the road again, and I was feeling less and less sure about my plans to leave Lyric alone once she was in Austin. If she was an heiress, Clint and his father would stop at nothing to bring her back home. I didn’t have a doubt in my mind they knew who she was and if hundreds of millions of dollars were really on the line…well, people would go to great extremes to secure that kind of wealth. But I couldn’t help but wonder what had changed to have them make their move now. From what Lyric said, Pastor Middleton had been living at the church and shacking up with her mom for over a year.

What made them jump the gun and scare Lyric off?

Rubbing my leg with her toe, she asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I wished I could just take you home with me.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

My heart raced as I took in the sincerity on her face, and fuck, I was tempted. “Because until we find and kill Chief—”

“Chief? That’s his name?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because at the wedding I heard Clint, Pastor Middleton’s son, talking to someone he called Chief.”