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  I’ll make it fast, since she does have to pee. I have a constant boner for her, so I don’t need any foreplay. Just a quick application of a condom and I’m buried deep inside her, shoving her ass up that wall with each pounding thrust.

  She wraps her legs around my waist, arms around my shoulders. I fuck her until she’s babbling my name, begging for release.

  “Can you come on command?” I ask.

  “You already know I can,” she says, which is true. I found that out at her place, which seems like a million years ago.

  “Then when I say come, you’re gonna come, and you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good I’ll forget all about fucking that ass today.”

  “I’m ready now. Please now.”

  I watch her face as I slam in, jackhammering her into the wall, watching her need grow more and more desperate until I can’t take it anymore.

  “Come, Caitlin.” I shove in deep and shoot my load and squeeze one of her nipples hard.

  She screams and comes, her juicy pussy milking the cum from my cock until I get lightheaded from the release.

  “Paolo,” she murmurs as I coast in and out, stroking her through the aftermath.

  Turns out I fucking love hearing my name on her lips, especially in that breathy, sexy way.

  I slide out and slam in. “Say it again.”

  “Paolo.”

  I meet her eyes and see a streak of vulnerability. Right before she covers it with sass. “Now you want me to say it.”

  “You’ll say whatever the fuck I ask you to say, right, little girl?” I bump my loins against her again.

  “Do you tell all your shakedowns that?” Again, the vulnerability. She’s been asking this shit a lot. She wants to know where she stands with me.

  My mouth twists into a smirk. “Not from this position.”

  She laughs. Not a crazy laugh, but a genuine, beautiful, musical laugh.

  I find myself grinning back at her—which feels fucking good, because I never grin.

  I pull out and set her down. “Go pee.”

  “Yes, Mr. Tacone.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and blinks rapidly at me.

  I smack her ass.

  Cute as fuck.

  I really don’t want to let her go.

  Caitlin

  I didn’t know how late I slept until I come out of the shower and find out it’s already 1:40 p.m.

  I sort of dash for the computer to check on the money balance. Am I even close to making the amount required by the deadline? What happens if I don’t make it? Surely he’ll cut me a break? He was just balls deep between my legs.

  But I really don’t know this guy. He’s dangerous, for sure.

  “Where are we?” He stands over me.

  “One hundred thirty-eight.”

  “Getting there.”

  I look up at him. “Do I get a few hours leeway? You know, if it’s all not there by the deadline?”

  “Yeah, doll. We’re good. I can see you’re putting in a good faith effort here.”

  Good faith effort. The effort that’s going to get me sent to prison for ten to twenty years.

  Damn.

  I go into his workout gym and get on the treadmill. I stay on it until he drags me off two hours later and I can barely stand on the stable ground.

  He grips my elbows to hold me up. “We’re good. Money’s close enough. You can shut it off and I’ll take you home.”

  I know my crazy is in full force when my first emotion is disappointment. Like I don’t want to leave.

  And that’s as cray-cray as it gets.

  “And my brother? He’s off the hook now, too? You’ll pull your guys off him?”

  “No one’s touched him, Caitlin. He doesn’t know any of this happened.” He brings his face up to mine. “No one will, right?”

  “I won’t talk.”

  “You won’t do anything that will make me come look for you again. Capiche?”

  “Yeah, I capiche.”

  “Get your shit together. I’ll take you home.”

  I’m slightly bewildered about the sudden dismissal. I doubt we reached two hundred thousand yet, but I’m not going to complain.

  Because that would be nuts.

  I’m going home.

  I shouldn’t feel so damn disappointed.

  Abandoned, even.

  Man, I really am a nut-job.

  Maybe it’s just because I know that after this I’ll be going to jail. I don’t know if it will take them a week or a month or a year to trace me, but I imagine they will. Even if I spend the rest of the night trying to wipe out that bank account’s existence from all records.

  I pack up my stuff and Paolo takes me to the Porsche. True to his word, he lets me ride in front this time.

  “So, I told you I won’t help with your dad’s death. But is there anything else I can do for you? Anyone whose kneecaps you want broken?”

  I shoot him a sidelong glance. “What?”

  He shrugs. “You heard me.”

  “You’re serious? Why are you offering?”

  “We’re square now, with the money. But you took care of me quite a few times these last two days and I, uh, want to return the favor.”

  I blink at him. Am I actually hearing this right?

  “So this is like a transaction? I sucked your cock and now you’ll break someone’s kneecaps for me?”

  I see that twitch of his lips. “Yeah. Something like that. Does that offend you?”

  “Well, I do give good head.” I fall back on crazy-Caitlin because while I am slightly offended, I’m also way turned on.

  “You do.”

  I laugh. “I can think of quite a few people I’d love to sic you on. My graduate advisor for one. But no, thank you. I’m good.”

  Paolo’s hands tighten on the wheel. “What’d he do?”

  “Oh he’s just an ass. Let’s just say he didn’t follow through on our blowjob transaction deal.”

  Paolo’s brows slam down. “You blew him? And what was he supposed to do for you?”

  “He promised me the TA position and then gave it to someone else. But I mean it—I don’t need you to hurt him. I can take care of myself. Can I get a credit for one future ass-beating when needed? Or better yet—” Don’t say it. Don’t sound needy. “Use it on myself?”

  He takes his eyes off the road to look at me. He’s hard to read, but I think I catch the traces of amusement in his expression. “Yeah, doll. Sure.”

  I’m not certain which thing he’s saying yes to and I won’t let myself ask. He’s circling the graduate housing block where my low-rent graduate student apartment is.

  “You can let me out here,” I say, throwing open the door when he stops at a stop sign.

  “Nah, I can— “

  I’m already out the door. “Thanks for the fun times, Paolo. Catch you on the flip side.” I heave my satchel over my shoulder and wave after I shut the door.

  He looks at me through the glass for a beat, then lifts his chin and drives away.

  I try to fight the panic chewing through my gut.

  It’s not because he’s leaving.

  It’s because I’m going to jail very soon.

  And that’s all.

  I have absolutely no feelings for Paolo Tacone at all.

  That would be crazy.

  Chapter 7

  Paolo

  For the first time in my life I’m off-kilter. I don’t consider myself a real emotional guy. If shit upsets me, I bang some heads and I feel better. End of story.

  But this is different. It’s a low-level unease. Not anger. Maybe it’s my non-existent fucking conscience waking up. I didn’t like letting Caitlin go, and as the days wear on, that sensation only increases.

  I pay a visit to Junior and Gio, my brothers who live locally to find out if they remember anything about Lake West. Neither remembers any more than I do. The guy was shady—possibly a middle man for stolen goods—but not much else. Gio thinks he might have worked for the Russ
ian bratva. Not Vlad’s cell, but an older organization. One we had some uneasy ties with at one point. If that’s true, it could’ve been one of theirs who killed him.

  I keep my soldier’s eyes on Trevor West for a few weeks after I let Caitlin go. And I take the job of watching Caitlin myself.

  Vlad had no problem transferring and laundering the money from her account and he reported that she deleted its existence completely, which bodes well for her not getting herself caught for the crime she committed.

  Still, I keep tabs on her. I like knowing she’s safe. Back at school and teaching her cardio classes. Wearing the hell out of her yoga pants and t-shirts under her red puffy jacket.

  I don’t like the deadened expression in her eyes. What bothers me most is thinking I’m the one who put it there.

  Except I can’t quite make myself believe that. She found pleasure with me, I’m sure of it. She may have used sex to inure me to her, but those orgasms weren’t faked.

  God knows I found pleasure with her. She’s an addiction. Now that she’s gone, now that she’s taken that aura of chaos she carries with her away, my house feels empty.

  I find out her graduate advisor is a guy named Noah Alden and I pay him a visit in his office. The guy screams pompous ass from ten miles away. He’s short and slovenly dressed with a paunchy belly. I’m pissed that Caitlin’s lips were anywhere near this guy’s junk. In fact, I want to kill him just for that. But that’s not why I’m here.

  I break into the guy’s office and sit down in his chair to wait for him. He nearly pisses himself when he finds me there.

  “Wh-what’s going on here? Who are you?”

  I take my time and stand from the chair, giving him a moment to register my full size. The flash of the gun I carry in the holster under my arm. The size of my fists.

  I saunter around the desk. “I’m here to discuss one of your graduate students with you.”

  “Wh-who is it? What is this about?”

  “Why did you pass Caitlin West over for the TA position you promised her?”

  His face crinkles into scorn. “Caitlin? She’s crazy.”

  And that’s all it takes. My fist slams into his nose and he slams into the wall. “Say it again,” I challenge, fisting his shirt to pick him up from where he slumped down to the floor. “Go on. Call her crazy to my face. I’ll fucking show you crazy.”

  Blood gushes down his face, spills over my hands. “I-I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I swear! She’s a nice girl. Real sweet. Just a little… unique, is all. Is she your girlfriend or something?”

  “Something,” I say, slamming him back against the wall. “Now you listen to me. You’re gonna give Caitlin that TA job she deserves, or I’m gonna break every bone in both your hands. Capiche?”

  “I-I-I can’t give her the job, I already gave it to someone else.”

  “Yeah, I heard that. You’re gonna take it back. Or I’ll get rid of him and it’ll be on your head. Got it?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

  “By tomorrow, and don’t tell anyone—including Caitlin—about this conversation we’re having.”

  “I won’t. Okay, I got it.”

  “And if you ever disrespect that girl again, I will fucking kill you. Understand?”

  “I understand. I won’t disrespect her. Please.”

  I punch him once more in the gut to make sure he gets the message before I release him.

  I stalk out, still pissed as hell.

  Fucking stronzo—calling Caitlin crazy. People are so fucking stupid if they can’t see that’s all a big act to make sure people underestimate her. It’s her way of controlling her surroundings from a position of weakness. Some survival skill she probably had to learn after her dad died, if not before.

  Caitlin

  The first thing I did when Paolo dropped me home was go over and see Trevor. Paolo was right. He hadn’t noticed anyone watching him. Didn’t even register that I hadn’t checked in.

  I debated telling him what happened, but I decided not to worry him. He’s happy. He’s almost like a normal college student, partying and hooking up with girls and having fun. His existence has been different from mine. We got separated into different foster families. His adopted him. They were decent. He’s turned out normal.

  I don’t want to disturb that.

  So I go on.

  Only everything’s different now.

  I’m different.

  I keep thinking about Paolo. Wondering if I should’ve played anything differently. If I made a mistake having sex with him. The old me would’ve beat myself up for my crazy. Wondered when I’m ever going to be normal. Not turn to sex and pain to get through stressful situations.

  New me can’t find it in me to condemn myself. I don’t feel dirty or cheap or used.

  I feel satisfied. Satisfied enough to wonder at least ten times a day if I’ll ever see Paolo again. If he’s into having sex or scening with me again. Maybe meeting up at the BDSM dungeon. Or at his place.

  And I keep replaying his offer. The way we left things. That I could call in a favor if I needed one. And he didn’t give me his phone number or anything, but I’m a hacker. I could find it easily enough.

  But all those thoughts are pretty pointless when I remember that any day now the FBI could show up at my door to arrest me.

  I go into my graduate advisor, Dr. Alden’s office after he left me a message saying he needed to meet with me.

  The minute I see him a flood of hot and cold rush through me. Both his eyes are black and there’s tape across his nose.

  Paolo’s been here.

  Oh my God.

  I should feel guilty, but I guess I’m immoral enough that I don’t. All I feel is vindicated.

  And something else—some part of me is celebrating.

  Paolo does care.

  “What happened?” I try to make my voice sound normal.

  “I ran into the door,” he says in the strained voice that confirms everything.

  I pull out a chair and sit down, my heart thudding. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yeah, uh, listen. We had a situation come up. Todd can’t do the TA job anymore and I wanted to see if you could step in. This semester—right away.”

  “Oh, uh... yeah. I could do that.” I try to sound surprised, natural. But who am I kidding? We both know what happened here.

  “Great. Here’s everything you need.” He pushes a stack of papers across the desk at me. “Be ready to teach tomorrow.”

  “All right. I will. Thanks.” I stand.

  Well, hot damn. That’s $15,000 a year, which I will definitely need since I don’t have the Tacone money coming in any more.

  I leave the office, debating whether I should try to contact Paolo to thank him.

  No, I should leave it alone. We had sex while he held me prisoner. This isn’t some romantic gesture. It’s probably considered sociopathic.

  I’m getting on my bike when I get that feeling I’ve had lately that I’m being watched.

  I thought it was me being paranoid about the FBI showing up to arrest me, but I suddenly realize it might be Paolo. I scan the streets. No sign of the Porsche.

  But there. I see a dark blue Range Rover parked on the street across the way with a large figure behind the wheel.

  I can't stop the smile spreading across my face.

  And suddenly I’m lighter than a helium balloon. I sail across the street, open the passenger door and scoot into the seat, uninvited. “You missed me!” I sing out. “So, are we dating now?”

  His face is inscrutable, as usual, except I catch the twitch of his lips that tells me he doesn’t mind my crazy.

  I lean across the console to peck him on the cheek, but he turns and catches my jaw in his large hand and stays my approach.

  My pussy squeezes at the dominant hold. His grip isn’t painful, just controlling. He holds my face immobile and studies it. “You look tired, doll.” He leans forward and I close my eyes. Then open them again
to find him paused, halfway to my face, like he’s debating whether to actually kiss me or not.

  “Come on,” I urge. “It’s just a kiss.”

  The lips twitch again. He kisses me, just once. Sensual but still perfunctory. Like he’s teaching me a lesson I don’t understand. Then he releases my face.

  “I see you visited my advisor. I told you not to, but thanks.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” he maintains and for a moment, I’m taken aback. I didn’t read the situation wrong, did I?

  And then I realize. It must be standard procedure to never admit a crime out loud.

  “Well, thanks for whatever you didn’t do,” I say.

  He accepts that with a nod. “I’ll sink that fucker in Lake Michigan if he ever disrespects you again.”

  I give him my widest smile and his eyes crinkle even though his lips don’t match mine.

  “You hungry? There’s this amazing taco joint right around the corner.” I point in the direction of Pancho’s Street Tacos.

  “You buyin’?”

  “Um, yeah,” I say, trying to quickly calculate how much cash I have in my wallet.

  “Kidding.” He swings his door open. “I’ll buy. Let’s go.”

  It’s ridiculous how excited I feel. Like we’re going on a date, rather than me catching him stalking me after brutally attacking my advisor. But I can’t find it in me to be afraid of him in this moment. I can’t drop the buoyancy that’s come over me at seeing him again. Knowing he cared enough about me and my situation to exact his form of justice.

  I take him into the taco joint and order my favorite—two grilled shrimp tacos on corn tortillas.

  “I’ll have the same,” he says and gets two drinks to go with them. We take our trays and find a place by the window to squeeze in.

  I sit down and take a giant bite. “Mmm, thanks for buying lunch.”

  He takes a bite of his.

  “So why are you still watching me? I thought we were square.”

  He shrugs. “Making sure you don’t leave town suddenly. Or turn yourself in. Or anything else that will make us both sorry.”