Page 41 of The True Garza

“Give it to me, then,” I breathe like a starved simp, reaching around to cop a feel.It’s been so long.

He knocks my hand away. “Fuck no.”

Were I a lesser woman, the force and vehemence behind those two words would’ve damaged my self-esteem. But me? I cough out a laugh. “Why? Tank’s empty already? Who used you up? The classy brunette or the busty waitress?”

His grip on my neck tightens, a low growl in his throat. His weight behind me bears down, pressing me into the wall. He’s hard as rock for me, and that knowledge makes me heady. I’m such a boneless twat when it comes to this man.

Wordless seconds ticking by, he keeps me like that. My breaths become pants as my heartrate racks up. His breath is hot and heavy just above my ear.

I want him.

He wants me.

We both know it’s not happening.

After what feels like sweet forever, he abruptly lets me go and flips me around.

I lick my lips and lift my face to his. He’s as hidden in the dark as I no doubt am. But somehow, his hotness still shines through. The outline of his broad shoulders, the cut of his muscles, the angle of his jawline…

He hands me back my gun.

I take it and holster it, our locked gaze never breaking.

“Go. Now. To the office. I’ll be right behind you.”

How is it that I’m so defiant with everyone else but, when this particular man talks to me with command in his voice, I feel an urgent itch under my skin to obey him? To please him? Is it because my body remembers the rewards I used to get in turn for heeding his every command? Yeah, it’s less about my will and more about my rabid sexual thirst.

In an attempt to prove to myself that I’m not a complete simp for him, I say, “This has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re Red Cage now. So whatever the fuck this is, it has everything to do with me.”

“No one—”

He seizes my jaw in his big hand, shutting me up. “Go. To. The fucking. Office.”

Can I stop and get a fresh pair of panties on the way? Because I’m drenched.

Still needing to prove something to myself for some reason, I force out, “We’re not in Denver anymore, hotshot. You only get to boss me around when we’re naked. And, as you’ve just made clear, that’s not happening again, so—”

“You like that big fat paycheck you’re taking home? Those three days off? That nice company car? Those bonuses?”

I don’t answer. But he’s not expecting me to.

He lets me go and jerks his head to the door. This time, I give up the act and leave without backtalk. Because who the hell am I kidding? I’d let that man lock me in a room, put a collar on me, and order me around whenever, however he pleases.

And, somehow, I think the son of a bitch knows that.

CHAPTER Twelve

“Then you’re fired.”

Lonny

Parked under the covered “Reserved”parking area in the Red Cage parking lot, I wait for True on the hood of the rental car. The rain has dwindled to a light drizzle, a dull chill on the air.

There are no standard hours at Red Cage, so the building is lit up even now. Four shift changes over twenty-four-hour periods. Alertness and readiness are compulsory, hence the adequate rest days and the ample pay so a second job isn’t needed. During training, the importance and mandate ofrestwere heavily stressed on. Showing up “tired” or “hungover” at work is unacceptable. Immediate termination.

Ever the risk-taker, I’ve been threading that line all week by using all my off hours to stake out my attacker. Lack of rest is catching up to me. But, while I don’t necessarily want to lose my job, it’s also useless if I’m dead, isn’t it?