A Gangster and a Gentleman Read online

  “Midnight?” She rolled her eyes. “What fucking kind of name is that anyway?”

  “You know, I’ll make a note to ask him just before I put a bullet in the center of his forehead.”

  “Oh. You will do that for little old me?” She batted her eyelashes.

  “I just so happen to have a few scores to settle with him myself,” he informed her.

  She sucked in a few more angry breaths, but she still looked pissed as shit.

  “You know,” he said, stepping closer, “I could use a beer myself.”

  Blake’s neck swiveled. “Clearly your ass got me confused with Hazel the maid.” She stormed off.

  Eli chuckled and grabbed himself a beer out of the fridge. When he returned to the living room, it was to see Blake dialing on her cordless. “Who are you calling?”

  “The police.”

  “What the fuck?” In two quick strides, Eli crossed the room, snatched the phone out of her hand, and tossed it against the wall.

  “Hey! What the hell is your problem?”

  “What the fuck is your problem? You can’t call the police.”

  “The hell I can’t. You said yourself that a crazy muthafucka put a hit out on me.”

  “And what the fuck do you think the boys in blue are going to do for you?”

  “How about arrest that crazy muthafucka?”

  Eli shook his head. “It don’t work that way, baby girl.”

  “Will you stop calling me that? I’m not your fucking baby girl.”

  “Take a laxative and chill out,” he yelled. “I’ve told you that I’m not the fucking enemy. I’m here to make sure that you keep sucking air. But you’re crazy if you think the po-po are going to do anything more than hand your ass a fuckin’ report, especially on some street shit. I’m the best chance you got to stay alive, and if you took two seconds to calm down, you’d recognize that.”

  Blake glared.

  Eli took it as a sign that they were headed in the right direction. “Good. Glad you’re finally listening to reason.” He turned up his beer and emptied the entire bottle. “Now where am I sleeping tonight?”

  She opened her mouth and he held up a finger. “And don’t say outside.”

  Blake snapped her jaw shut.

  Eli rocked his head back and laughed. “You know, baby girl, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

  7

  Blake stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door. When the loud bang didn’t immediately alleviate her anger, she opened it back up and slammed it again. She would have gone for a third time, but it occurred to her that her antics were probably tickling the shit out of the big Goliath downstairs. This shit couldn’t be happening, but one look down at her scrapes and bruises told her that this nightmare was real.

  “Okay. There’s got to be some other way to settle this shit.” She plopped down onto the edge of the bed. She was a smart woman. Surely she could figure something out. But how does one go about talking someone out of killing them? Offer them money? Hell, she’d met her father. She understood why someone would want to eighty-six his ass. What kind of medieval shit was it to order a hit on a muthafucka’s whole family?

  Her mama was right to get away from Mafia Don. Blake’s gaze shot over to the black-and-white picture of her mother sitting on the nightstand. Her heart muscles wheezed painfully. There had never been a stronger or more beautiful woman. Sure. Her mother had made her share of mistakes—her brief time with Mafia Don was a testament to that—but after relocating to California, she got her shit together and put herself through nursing school. After that, she found a real man who was willing to put a ring on it and not just put a baby on her.

  When Blake was thirteen, her mother opened up and told her the truth about Mafia Don. The drugs, the women, the violence—from the jump Blake didn’t want anything to do the man. He was just a sperm donor as far as she was concerned. Over time, she did develop a natural curiosity about the man. He sounded more like urban legend than a real character.

  Then came her brother’s issues and once again Blake despised men like Mafia Don. No, he didn’t deal drugs to her brother, but it was niggas like him who did.

  Now she had a glorified drug dealer in her house, playing bodyguard.

  So what he was the finest thing she’d seen in a long-ass time. The man was dangerous. He killed two people like it was something on his to-do list. Blake’s stomach churned, and the next thing she knew, she was on her feet and racing for the adjoining bathroom. She barely got the lid up on the toilet before she was spewing her guts. There wasn’t much before she was dry-heaving and suffering stomach cramps.

  When she finally lifted her head, she jumped when a cool, wet towel was pressed against it.

  “Shhh. Calm down,” Eli said. His black gaze was riddled with concern. The way he could so easily flip the script from being a gangster to a gentleman threw her. “It’s all right. You just had a bit of a shock tonight,” he said.

  Shock was an understatement.

  Eli smiled, and as a result her ass melted on the stone floor. “What are you doing in here?” she asked.

  “You took care of me downstairs. Figure that I should return the favor.” His hand drifted down the right side of her face and cupped her cheek. For a full minute they shared an electrifying charge that stole their breaths.

  Blake quivered and a second later her clit exploded with an instant orgasm. First time that shit had ever happened to her . . . with her clothes still on.

  Oh, this nigga is dangerous.

  And then Blake went back to throwing up.

  Eli went back to playing nurse. “Shhh. Shhh. It’s all right.”

  After a while, her stomach settled down, though having his hands still touching her kept her temperature sky-high. “I’m all right,” she croaked, shoving his hands away and forcing herself back to her feet, but her legs had turned to Jell-O. Judging by the thick, rubber band smile stretching across his lips, he knew his effect on her. “I appreciated you trying to help, but next time, knock before you barge in here.”

  Eli unfolded his large frame and hovered above her. Even if someone planted an AK-47 to the back of her head, Blake wouldn’t have been able to stop her eyes from roaming over the brothah’s chiseled body. Not only was he fine as fuck, but he smelled good too.

  Too good.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds,” he said, not looking sorry at all.

  Blake nodded, but he wasn’t making any attempt to leave. Worse, there was a strong part of her that didn’t want him to leave—at least not until after he ripped her clothes off and fucked her until she qualified for disability benefits. “Do you mind?” she snapped.

  Those sexy-ass lips stretched wider. “Not at all.” Eli backed away. “But if you need anything—”

  “You’ll be downstairs on the couch,” she finished for him, not bothering to offer him one of the other eight bedrooms in the house.

  “You got it.” He winked, then turned and strolled off.

  Blake’s gaze dropped down the gangster’s broad back and settled on his nice ass. What she wouldn’t give to grip that mutha—

  What the fuck am I doing? She shook her head as if that was going to somehow force common sense back into her brain.

  It didn’t.

  She still had images of him ripping her clothes off and pounding her pussy like it stole money from him.

  At the door, Eli flashed a final smile over his shoulder and headed out.

  It wasn’t until then that Blake realized she hadn’t been breathing. When she sucked in a breath, her weak lungs threatened to collapse. She unrooted her feet and then rushed to slam the door behind him. This time, she heard his laughter from the other side. “Asshole.”

  A chuckling Eli took his time strolling through the house. He was aware of the sexual tension humming between them, and if it hadn’t been for his loyalty to her father, he would be waist-deep in pussy right now. Instead, he roamed through her large man
sion, checking rooms and windows. Her much-bragged-about security system was some simple bullshit from a local alarm company. A nigga worth a pinch of salt on the street could bust into this muthafucka with his eyes closed.

  First thing in the morning, he would have to see about upgrading her shit. An hour later, he had a list of all the things that needed to be changed or updated if he was truly going to make this bodyguard thing work.

  The one question that looped through his mind was the same one that Blake asked earlier: “How long is this job going to last?”

  Surely the don didn’t expect him to stay out in Cali forever. Surely the crew was closing in on Midnight and bringing his reign to an end.

  If not, his position as number two would be at great risk in the organization. After all, who in their crew would respect a glorified babysitter?

  Eli mulled the question over in his head and then reached for his cell phone.

  The don picked up on the second ring. “Eli?”

  “Yeah. It’s me.”

  “Is there a problem?” Mafia Don asked. “Is my baby girl all right?”

  Eli wasn’t used to hearing such worry and concern in his boss’s voice. But again, he never had to worry about his daughter on such a level. “Yeah. Everything is cool. We had a little bit of trouble today, but it was nothing that I couldn’t handle.”

  “So the threat is real?” he huffed.

  “I’m afraid so.” Eli drew a deep toke from his cigar before dropping more news. “My cover has been blown. Couldn’t be helped.”

  “Damn.” The don exhaled a long breath. “I imagine that she’s not taking that shit too well.”

  “A little cursing, a little yelling, but all in all I think she sees the value of my sticking around.”

  “Oh yeah? Did she, um, say anything about me?”

  Eli hesitated.

  “Never mind,” Mafia Don said sourly. “I don’t think I want hear it. Just . . . keep her safe. That’s the most important thing I need you to do right now.”

  “Hey, you know that you can rely on me. Always.”

  “Good. Good.” He expelled another breath, and Eli could hear some tension leave him.

  “How is progress going on that nigga Midnight?”

  “Muthafucka still floating around this town like a goddamn ghost. This now-you-see-him-and-now-you-don’t bullshit is rocking my nerves. But trust and believe I’m going to murk this nigga myself.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Hell yeah. This fucking city ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

  8

  Blake woke with a massive headache. In fact, it was so bad that at first she was convinced that she was suffering from a hangover—but she couldn’t remember drinking anything. Groggily, she lifted her head off the pillow and was stunned to see that she was wearing the same clothes she’d worn the day before.

  “What the fuck?” Slowly, yesterday’s and last night’s event came back to her.

  Elijah Hardwick.

  The shooting.

  Mafia Don.

  The blackout.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Blake plopped her head back down onto her pillow and pounded the mattress with her fist. Why couldn’t this shit have been just a bad dream?

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Blake’s head shot back up as the doorknob turned. She exhaled in relief when she remembered that she had the good sense to lock the door last night.

  “Blake?” Eli’s sexy baritone melted through the door.

  “What do you want?” she snapped, making sure that he couldn’t miss her irritation.

  He had the nerve to chuckle. “I wanted to see if you were interested in breakfast?”

  Blake’s stomach growled at the mere mention of food—so loud, in fact, she didn’t have any doubts that he heard the bastard out in the hallway.

  “Come on. I make a mean Spanish omelet,” he coaxed.

  Rolling her eyes, Blake climbed out of bed and crept toward the door. “Toast?”

  “If you’d like,” he said.

  She cracked open the door and experienced a jolt to her system at seeing him standing there, bare-chested with his peek-a-boo V-cut hips above his black jeans. Blake forced herself to stop staring. “Coffee?” she croaked.

  “Already percolating.”

  She nodded. “I’ll be right down.”

  His smile expanded. “Can’t wait.”

  Blake shut the door before she actually started drooling. The man had that kind of effect on her, which was insane, considering that she couldn’t stand his ass. She rushed and submerged herself into a hot shower, hoping the pelting, hot water would take the edge off her growing horniness.

  No such luck.

  As a poor substitute, she reached for the baby oil and proceeded to rub one out. She closed her eyes and imagined Eli’s thuggishly fine body hovering above hers. No doubt, a man with his incredible shoe size was working with a pipe that could hit her three G-spots at the same time.

  Blake tossed her head back as she pictured grabbing hold of Eli’s muscled ass as he thrust his thick shaft into her tight walls. A soft moan slipped past her lips as her fingers eased in and out of her pussy. Surely, a brothah like him talked shit when he was putting in work.

  “You love this dick, baby girl?”

  “Yes,” she panted aloud.

  “Whose pussy is this?”

  “It’s yours, baby.”

  Blake’s fingers quickened their pace while a scorching heat swept across her body.

  “I’m coming,” she announced, feeling the first orgasmic quake hit her knees. “I’m . . . I’m . . .” At long last her mouth sagged open in a soundless scream. When her clit detonated, her entire body rattled like 7.0 earthquake. The tremors were so powerful that she had to reach out and brace herself against the tiled wall with her free hand until her body’s honey finished gushing down the drain.

  However, the minute Blake entered the kitchen and Eli turned to hand her a piping-hot cup of coffee, she was right back where she started with her titties and clit aching for his touch.

  “Cream and sugar?”

  Blake was creaming all right. “No. Black is fine.”

  Eli’s lips hitched upward.

  Her eyes narrowed. His ass was too damn cocky.

  “Breakfast is ready,” he said, picking up her plate and handing it to her.

  Blake’s stomach roared like a lion about to feast on wildebeest.

  “Damn, girl. Maybe I should hook you up with one of those T-bones you got in the freezer too.”

  Blake snatched her plate. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “You sure?” He lifted his thick brows while his gaze roamed over her thick frame. “You don’t have to be all sidity around me. I like a woman with a healthy appetite.”

  “I’ll file that under useless information,” she said, rolling her eyes and shuffling toward the dining room table.

  Eli laughed as he grabbed his plate and followed her to the table. “You know, just because we started off on the wrong foot doesn’t mean that we have to stay there. After all, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

  “That’s up for debate,” Blake mumbled.

  “Actually, it’s not,” he countered. “Your father made that shit clear to me last night.”

  “You talked to my father last night?”

  Eli bobbed his head while he cut into his omelet. “Had to give him a progress report.”

  “And what did he say?” she demanded.

  “Nothing much. He was relieved that you survived our ordeal yesterday.” He cocked his head. “Would you like to talk to him?”

  She fixed her mouth to say no, but she hesitated.

  Eli lowered his fork and reached into his jeans pocket to retrieve his cell phone.

  “No. I don’t have shit to say to that man,” she finally snapped, and then shoveled eggs into her mouth. During the ensuing silence, Blake made sure to avoid meeting Eli’s intense gaze. It was hard, consi
dering the tears in the back of her eyes felt like battery acid.

  “Look. I’m not going to pretend to understand the beef between you two, but—”

  “Good. Then drop it,” she said, shoving in even more eggs. When she thought that she was about to gag, she went for the coffee, hoping that it would help wash it and her pride all down.

  Eli kept his lips zipped while she ate like a pig. Eventually, the silence grew to be too much.

  “What?” Blake tossed her fork down, but the loud clanking only agitated her more.

  Eli remained as cool as a cucumber as one of his perfectly groomed brows lifted to the middle of his forehead.

  Blake felt silly for overreacting. “Just . . . stop staring at me.”

  “Why?”

  She blinked. “What do you mean, why? Because it makes me uncomfortable.”

  Eli shrugged. “Can’t be helped. I like looking at beautiful things.” He took a sip of his coffee while she blushed a hundred different shades of red. “Besides, aren’t you used to men staring at you?”

  When Blake’s mouth remained opened for too long, Eli chuckled again.

  “I’m so glad that I amuse you.”

  “You’re something else. I’ll give you that. Part bougie, part gangsta. I’m surprised that some unlucky bastard hasn’t snatched you up and pumped you full of babies.”

  Blake’s face twisted. “How appealing.”

  “Don’t front. You know you want that shit. It’s what all women want.”

  “What kind of sexist bullshit is that?”

  “I’m just spitting the truth, baby girl.” At seeing her embarrassment purpling into anger, Eli held up his hand in an attempt to cut off the pending explosion. “Before you start lying and calling me everything but a child of God, maybe you need to check yourself and ask whether your bullshit job can keep those cold silk sheets you got on your bed upstairs warm at night? Does running around this fake-ass town pretending to have balls like the big boys really satisfy you?” He glanced around. “This is a big house you got . . . too bad it’s empty.”

  “Fuck you.” Blake shoved her plate and knocked over Eli’s coffee, making him jump up.

  “Goddamn it,” he roared. “What the hell is your problem?”