Santori Reloaded, page 14
part #3 of Santori Series
Steve’s paler face appeared next to his. “Do you want us to help you get comfortable? You shouldn’t sleep in your shoes and jeans.” Without waiting for an answer, he moved to the foot of the bed and started removing my shoes and socks.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said weakly. He finished anyway, and when he was done, I waved them away. “I can take care of the rest. You guys can go.”
They moved away toward the door as I unbuttoned my shirt and wiggled out of it. Then I shucked my jeans and dropped both articles of clothing into a pile beside the bed, too exhausted to walk them to the hamper. The coolness of the sheets beckoned me back to sleep, and I wrapped myself up and gave in.
I don’t know how much time had passed before I woke again. The bedside lamp cast a dim yellow glow around the room, but the darkened window told me it was still dark out. A strong arm snaked around my waist and reeled me in, and my back came up against a solid wall of hot flesh. Kage, I thought, and warmth spread through my body. A sense of contentment I hadn’t felt in a long time. But even in my half-sleep, I knew it wasn’t Kage. The touch felt all wrong. And besides, Kage and I weren’t together anymore. He’d kept too many secrets from me, and I’d had to break my own heart by walking out the door.
No, it wasn’t Kage at my back, and that wasn’t his breath warming my neck. I knew without turning over that it was Anthony Rodriguez. I could smell his cologne.
At first, I was afraid to move. Afraid of waking the sleeping beast. But then anger took hold, because how dare he climb into my bed uninvited? How dare he touch me like a lover would?
I squirmed out of his grasp and sat up on the edge of the bed. “Anthony.” My voice was hoarse from sleep. “Anthony, what are you doing?”
Behind me, he stirred. “Steve said I could sleep over.”
“In my bed?” I demanded.
“No, on the sofa. I tried, but it was too short for me to stretch out. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if I crashed in here.”
“Well, I do mind. You should have gone home.”
He sat up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I drank too much to drive.”
Some of the tension loosened in my body, and I sagged. “You shouldn’t be here.” I looked down at my body, bare except for a pair of black boxer briefs. So inappropriate.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I thought maybe— Well, I hoped you would—”
“Would what?” I asked.
I felt the mattress dip and spring back as he stood. He moved around in front of me, and I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw that he was completely naked. I looked up at his face, my mouth open in shock, and what I saw there was even more startling than his nudity. Anthony Rodriguez, big bad MMA fighter, was nervous.
He dropped to his knees in front of me, so close his body brushed against my legs. I reeled back, preparing to scramble away from him, but he placed his palms gently on my hips and looked up at me with apprehension in his puppy-dog eyes. And then he lowered his head to my lap and rested a cheek on my thigh.
I don’t know what possessed me—instinct, I guess—but I found myself petting his head. He seemed so vulnerable and needy, and so damn young I felt an irrational pang of guilt that I may have been somehow taking advantage of him.
But he was naked and gripping my hips now so hard he’d probably leave bruises. And then he was moving his cheek along my bare thigh, stubble scraping skin, and his face was buried in my crotch. There were heavy breaths, hungry moans, and firm lips mouthing the sensitive flesh of my soft cock through my briefs. The rush of blood between my legs was excruciating as my sleeping flesh filled and lengthened and strained for more. Anthony was ravenous, feasting on me through fabric like his life depended on it.
“Fuck. Anthony.” I wound my fingers in his dark hair and yanked hard, tearing his mouth away from me and leaving him staring up at me. “You have to stop.”
I tightened my grip on his hair, and the look on his face morphed from needy to something much darker. Rapture, I thought. I did it again, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes, and he moaned low and sweet.
“Please,” he whispered, and the desperation in that one little word was staggering. “Please let me.”
Realization dawned, and with it came a sort of recognition, like looking into a funhouse mirror. Anthony Rodriguez was a pain slut and a submissive, and he was looking up at me with those eyes like he thought I could take charge of him. Me. Michael Kage’s little bitch.
The thought of Kage brought a rush of guilt, and then anger that put the guilt to shame. Anthony was on his knees for me just like that little twink had been for Kage, and the memory of that betrayal was a hot knife slicing through my heart. But the sight of Anthony offering himself to me, begging me to use him, was a balm to that wound. In that moment, he was not just a man. He was revenge tied up with a pretty red bow, and he was mine for the taking.
I could do it. I could let him suck me. Judging from the look in his eyes and the ramrod boner jutting from between his muscular thighs, I could make him do absolutely anything I wanted. And damn if that thought didn’t make me hard.
I could order him to take my cock out and watch as he eagerly lowered my briefs and allowed my hard length the spring free. It would be a heady feeling to control another human being. To watch as he licked his lips and waited for instruction.
Show me what you can do with that mouth. That’s what I’d tell him. And I’d call him my little whore.
Would I sound like Kage when I said it? Would Anthony be as desperate to please me as I was to please Kage? What would it feel like to be the one in control for a change?
I imagined the feel of his lips on my cock as I slammed into his throat, gagging him, forcing him to keep up. I knew all too well what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that kind of cruel attention. The pain and the pleasure. The freedom of humiliation and submission to the will of another.
I understood now how Kage could make me come whenever he wanted. It was because he owned my orgasms. And he owned me.
In the end, that realization is what gave me the strength to push Anthony away and refuse the purely-animal temptation of burying my cock in a willing mouth. Because the truth was that Kage did own me, and this body was no longer mine to give.
Chapter 16
KAGE
I trudged up the steps of the nondescript office building where Aaron had asked me to meet him. Sweat slicked down my torso and my limbs, causing the silver cutting suit to cling uncomfortably to my skin. It was a feeling I would never get used to, this sickening slickness.
I rang the bell, and an unfamiliar voice came through the speaker box mounted on the wall. “Who is it?”
“Michael Kage Santori,” I said, breathless after miles of running. I bent at the waist and grabbed onto my knees for support, hoping I wasn’t about to die of a heat stroke. I thought of Jamie—how he’d repeatedly asked me why fighters had to cut weight and how he’d worried about me—and I’d never been more in agreement with him. This shit was ridiculous.
The days of underground fighting were long gone, and in their place were rules and responsibilities. I couldn’t just show up and beat someone’s ass anymore. I had to conform and follow regulations. I had to argue with my manager about why I was refusing to make appearances. It was hard to remember the joy I’d once found in fighting, and I regretted ever signing on with the UFC. Those dreams of dominating the sport and earning the Welterweight belt belonged to someone else—to a clueless kid whose father had abandoned him, and a bitter man who had been driven mad by grief. And since neither of those people were around anymore, it seemed pointless to even go through the motions. It wasn’t like I needed the money. And besides, I had more important things to worry about, like staying alive and keeping out of prison.
“Come in,” the voice in the box said just before the door lock clicked audibly.
I pushed inside and pulled the door closed behind me, feeling a twinge of apprehension as the lock sounded again. I’d grown more and more paranoid lately, until I was jumping at shadows and imagining an ambush around every corner. I certainly didn’t like the sound of being locked in.
Aaron came around the corner, and a bit of my nervousness dissipated. At least he was a familiar face. At least I half-trusted him.
“Kage,” he said, looking fresh and upbeat in a crisp blue T-shirt and a pair of camouflage pants. His gaze drifted over my own disheveled appearance, from my sweat-drenched hair to the jogging outfit that only partially hid the silver plastic cutting suit beneath. He shook his head. “Did your car break down? You look like you ran all the way here.”
I tried to chuckle, but it came out as more of a wheeze. “I have a fight in less than a week, so I’m doing some last-minute training and cutting. Unfortunately, I’m not in the best shape of my life, as you can probably tell.”
“Well, you’ve been a little preoccupied,” Aaron said with a wry grin. “Maybe it’s time to retire from fighting.”
“Don’t think I’m not considering it.”
I straightened up with some effort and really studied my surroundings for the first time. It was a typical office reception area with high-traffic carpet in a boring shade of brown. A desk sat off to one side with a computer monitor that didn’t appear to be attached to anything, and a couple of cheap paintings that would have been at home in doctor’s office hung on the wall behind it. Nothing to see here, folks, the decor seemed to say. But I knew better.
“Come on back.” Aaron beckoned me down a side hall.
I followed, but stopped walking when we passed what appeared to be a break room. “Do you have some water? I’m about two minutes from a 911 call.”
“Oh, sure. Of course.” Aaron doubled back and led me into the tiny room, which held a table, two chairs, a sink, and a mini-fridge. “Have a seat, and I’ll get you some water. Would you like a donut? They’re chocolate with sprinkles.”
“No sweets for me. I’ve got to work this gut off before the fight.” I patted the thin layer of fat that now obscured my six-pack. Most people wouldn’t even notice it, but my BMI was the highest it had been since high school.
“I never understood how you managed to stick to that strict diet of yours. I would have fallen off the wagon at least once a day.” Aaron set a plastic cup of water on the table in front of me, and, while I chugged every last drop, he set about pouring himself a cup of coffee. He pulled a gallon of milk from the refrigerator and splashed some into his cup. A large box of donuts sat on the counter, and he plucked one out.
“It’s a mindset thing,” I said. “Once you get used to eating right, it’s a piece of cake.” I smirked. “No pun intended.”
“Well, I can’t say no to donuts.” He finished the thing off in three mammoth bites and washed it down with a swig of coffee. Then he licked the chocolate from his fingers like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“So I guess the stereotype is true,” I said with a forced grin. If he wanted to play the small-talk game, then that’s what we’d do. We’d talk about donuts when there was an arsenal in the basement of my hotel.
His eyebrows shot up. “What stereotype?”
“The one that says cops like donuts and coffee. I figured that was just in the movies.”
Aaron laughed. “It’s just an easy way to feed people in an office. And besides, I’m not a cop.” He sneered the last word, as if I’d offended him by even suggesting such a thing.
“What are you, then, if you’re not a cop?”
He laughed again, harder this time. “Wouldn’t you like to know. You’re not going to get me to spill my secrets that easily. Jamie thought I was mute, remember? I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
Spill my secrets. The comment was eerily reminiscent of what Theo had said, and it made me uneasy. Aaron was a good guy, and Theo was a bad guy, yet there wasn’t much difference in the way they treated me. They’d talk like we were buddies, ask me to work with them, and toss out threats all in the same conversation. Maybe I was the only true good guy in this scenario, stuck between two men who didn’t give a shit about me as long as they got what they wanted. But I couldn’t let on to either one of them that I wasn’t completely on board.
“Why is it such a big secret?” I asked. “Shouldn’t I know who I’m working for?”
Aaron took another swallow of coffee and leaned back against the counter. “It’s not like you’re on the payroll, Kage. We’ve already discussed this. You’re on a need-to-know, and who I work for is not something you need to know. It’s irrelevant.”
“So why the big mystery? Are you guys doing something you ought not to?” I waggled my eyebrows, trying to disguise my genuine suspicion with humor. He probably wouldn’t buy it. I knew I wouldn’t.
Aaron scoffed. “There’s one thing you can count on in this life. Everyone, whether it’s a preacher, a little old grandmother, or a politician, is doing something they ought not to.”
An admission, I thought. Interesting.
“And what would little old grandmothers be doing to make that list?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Cheating the social security system, getting prescriptions they don’t need, putting glass in the recycle bin.”
“Oh, the horror.” I got up from my seat and refilled my water cup, draining it before cutting to the chase. “Here’s the thing, Aaron. I need to know more about what I’m doing. So far, all I’ve managed to accomplish is overdosing on cocaine and losing my boyfriend. That hardly seems useful to you and your mysterious employer. Give me some better direction so we can get this thing over with. The sooner Theo Brown is behind bars, the sooner I can get my life back.”
The knowledge that Theo was selling guns was burning a hole in my mind, but I wasn’t ready to roll it out just yet. Aaron needed to give me something first.
“There’s not much I can tell you other than we need to know who he’s working with. All of our surveillance attempts have proven fruitless. He’s careful, and he’s paranoid, and one false move on our part will only make him dig in deeper. We’ve managed to get a couple of bugs into the hotel, but only in the lobby, and Theo is not about to air sensitive business in the lobby.”
“What about his cell phone? You’re pretty good at infiltrating those.”
He gave a wry smile. “Theo knows those tricks. I worked for his partner, remember? Santori had me watching you, and he learned a little too much about my methods. What he knew, Theo knows.”
I pulled my cell phone out and turned it over in my hand. “So have you gotten your claws into this one yet?”
“Anything I do now is for your protection and for the mission.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Aaron sighed and pushed away from the counter. “Come with me.”
He led me out of the break room and down a short hallway. The place was so still and quiet, it was easy to imagine that Aaron and I were the only ones there, but the voice over the speaker at the door had definitely not been him. Around a bend at the end of the hallway, there was a long window on the left. Inside was a small room full of computer equipment. TV monitors, panels of switches and LED lights. One of the screens was showing an episode of Supernatural, in which Sam and Dean were battling a demon.
When Aaron opened the door, a thin man scrambled up from where he was slumped in a plush office chair and paused the show. “Hey, boss.”
I figured Aaron might chew the guy a new one for watching TV, but instead he asked, “What season are you on?”
The man shrugged and put the remote on the desk. “I don’t know. They all run together after a while.”
I scanned the other screens, which displayed video images of various locations—a parking garage, someone’s living room, the front of the Sceptre hotel. When I noticed that one of them was serving up a live feed of the Alcazar lobby, I froze. Steve stood behind the desk, playing with his cell phone.
“We have to keep an eye on things,” Aaron said before I could react. “But as I’ve told you, it’s for your protection.” He pressed a button near the monitor displaying the Alcazar lobby. “Why don’t you make a call to Steve? Looks like he’s slacking off again.”
I pulled my phone out and dialed Steve’s cell phone. He answered on the third ring. “Hello?” The word came through my cell phone, but also through the speaker in the room. It was eerie as hell.
“What are you doing working the desk? You’re supposed to be in the spa.”
Steve glanced around like he might find me watching him from across the room. “Linda called in again, so I’m covering. Where are you? How do you know I’m working the desk?”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about what I was saying. Steve definitely did not need to know he was being watched. “I came through the lobby a minute ago on my way out. Didn’t you see me?”
“No,” he said.
“Well maybe you should keep your head out of your cell phone. Are you playing Fortnite again? I warned you about that.”
“I was checking my texts, if you must know. I met a hot guy a couple of weeks ago, but he’s turning out to be one of those drive-by texters. He’ll ask what I’m doing, and I’ll text right back, and then it’s crickets for hours. Sometimes even a day or two. I mean, why bother, asshole? Do you want to get laid or what? I don’t even understand the motivation there. Should I just stop answering at all? My instincts tell me to ignore him, but then I look at the pics he sent me, and I get weak.”
I shook my head, amazed at how much talking Steve could get done without taking a breath. “Next time he texts you and asks what you’re doing, just reply, Please stop texting me unless you actually have something to say. This is getting old.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Steve said. “You’re so much better at being mean than I am.”
“Yeah, I am. Now put your phone away and get back to work.” I clicked off and turned to find Aaron smiling at me.
“I kind of miss Steve,” he said. “How is he doing?”
