Hard Limits(37)

Carmela nuzzled his crotch. Bit his shaft through the jeans, something that in other circumstances and with a certain, very stubborn person currently refusing to talk to him, would have revved him up like crazy.

Not with Carmela. If his cock had been able to retreat into him, it would have.

"Stop."

She was not listening to him. Too busy trying to open his zipper.

He closed his hands around her wrists in an iron grip. "You've forgotten who the fucking boss is around here?"

"No, of course not." She smiled, rubbing her face against his crotch. "You want to take the lead?"

Nico closed his eyes in disgust. Pushed her away from him. "Not too big on leftovers."

She looked shocked in that manner only women used to getting their way could. "How dare you, asshole? You don't get to lead me on and then turn me down." 

"Not interested, Carmela."

"This is because of that girl, right?"

"What girl?"

"This girl." She walked to a file drawer and dug out a folder. She threw it on the table. Photos slid free across the surface. Paige alone on the street. Working at Rosita's. Others of him entering her building. "You are fucking her."

"Since when is who I fuck any of your concern?" he asked, taking one of the photos and then discarding it without interest, as if his heart wasn't about to rip out of his chest with fear and fury. Nico took a step toward her menacingly, his voice very low. "You are having me watched?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I should shoot you on the spot." Showing him the pictures was a declaration of war. She was telling him not only that she knew about Paige, but also where to send men to kill her. Not to deal with this swiftly would be perceived as a sign of weakness. But Carmela was the key to dismantling the sex-trafficking ring. The one with all the contacts. She'd been running the logistics and building it up for years. Openly turning against her would jeopardize the whole operation. Too many lives depended on him maintaining deep cover and controlling the cartel. He couldn't live with himself if he fucked that up. But he would rather die than let anything happen to Paige. He was trapped. Doomed if he did and doomed if he didn't. Still, he hadn't made it this far by showing his cards. "Give me a reason not to blow your head off."

"I'm of no use dead," she said arrogantly, sure of her importance. "I was just doing my job."

"Reconnaissance on me is not your job."

"But making sure your new girl is trustworthy is. Foreseeing headaches is what I do best. I have plenty of experience. I've been cleaning up after Maldonado's … unfortunate flings for years. Like most men, he had a very low boredom threshold. Besides, the detail on you is for your protection. Standard procedure. You are the boss, after all."

"And don't fucking forget it. I have no problem making an example out of you," Nico finished, his tone hard.

"Ruthless men turn me on. They're good in bed. I doubt she appreciates it," Carmela murmured, and throwing a final glance at the pictures, walked out.

* * * *

"You're going to look smashing," Violet said as she wrapped the tips of Paige's hair with foil. "Such a pity there's no one here to see it."

That was the downside of doing your hair at two in the morning.

Paige had gotten tired of tossing and turning, so remembering what Elle had told her, she'd headed for the common area where she'd found Violet and Rita, the chronic insomniacs, watching TV. Surprisingly enough, Elle had been with them too.

Paige had asked Elle what she was doing there instead of being with Jack, to which she'd answered, "The Bowens are keeping him busy, but he'll come for me, even if it's only to walk me to my mom's condo."

And he'd done it. About five minutes later, Jack had entered the common area and crooked his index finger at Elle. "Time to go to bed, pet."

"Told you," Elle had whispered and then smiled and jumped on him. "At your command, Borg."

After that, the old ladies and Paige got to talking. One thing led to another, and now Violet was doing her hair.

"Are you sure this is blue?" Rita asked, checking the dye box. "This looks purple to me."

Violet narrowed her wrinkled eyelids, trying to focus. "I think it's blue."

Blue, purple, it didn't matter to Paige. She sat slumped while the old lady worked on her. No matter how nervous she was, getting her hair done always calmed her. Forget spas and massages: nothing did the trick better than a trip to the salon.




 

 

Violet handed the box to Paige. "Electric blue," Paige confirmed.

As Violet covered the tips of the last strand of hair, Paige's phone rang. She leaned over the table to look and then leaned back, ignoring it. "Unknown number."