Roxy… hang on, I’ll be outta here in a minute… just wait for me someplace I can find you…
I hope she feels the same way I do, about waiting as well as the throbbing ache I feel every time I think about her.
Fuck! What am I thinking? She must be half my age. I’m too old for any of this shit, but damn, if she isn’t the finest thing I’ve seen. Ever.
I have to make her mine…
With a slight tilt of his head, Marconi and I are alone in his office, he’s an inch away from my face, unflinching as he gives me a stony cold look and then a long sigh through his nose.
The glancing blow from his fist against my face isn’t unexpected, and it only proves to me why he pays to have men fight for him.
He hits like a kid.
“Whatever the fuck you think you’re up to…” he begins, finally shaking his hand and grimacing in pain from the full contact of it against my jaw.
“…I want you to do what you’re fucking paid for… got it,” he spits out rather than asks.
I don’t say a word, I just stare straight ahead.
His eyes narrow on me and I can tell he wants to throw another punch, but my reflexes are at the point in the evening now, where if anything came towards me, I’d just have to grab a hold of it and break it in half.
Marconi can sense this, and he moves past me, muttering his only reply to my silence.
“Just do your job, Dillon. We pay you well to do it, so just fucking do it, and do what you’re told.”
I unclench my fists, holding up my shaking hands in front of my face. Thinking of her, Roxy. The thought of that prick having something over her, inside her life. His fucking hand on her neck.
My nails have dug into my palms, red now from the blood which seeps out, nothing compared to the hurt I feel inside, the terrible pain I get in my heart when I think of Roxy without me to protect her.
Marconi’s goons escort me to the rear exit, only giving a dry laugh each when I ask for my night’s fee.
“You come back tomorrow and do your fucking job, then we’ll see about who gets paid,” one says before slamming the rusted steel door shut, a half inch from my nose.
Assholes.
He’s right though. And I know what happens if I don’t turn up.
Roxy!
CHAPTER FIVE
Roxy
I feel like throwing up when I see them taking Dillon away. I’m being herded out along with all the others. The big and not so big players who still get their money back, all except me.
“Mr. Marconi wants your next payment by the end of the week, we’ll take this little indiscretion as an interest only payment,” I’m told, the brute flashing his gold tooth in a snarl before adjusting his jacket so I can see the wad of cash I’ve just lost, as well as the butt of his gun inside his jacket.
I feel my lower lip trembling, the lead feeling in my stomach making me feel more helpless than ever.
“Now, run along and tell your dad to go get to work so we can have our next payment, due Friday… plus a late fee,” he adds, drawing a low groan from me. A hopeless sound. A woeful and tortured sound that doesn’t even feel like me, let alone something that could come from my own body.
What the fuck just happened?
Oh dad, I’m sorry…
I know it’s over now. I interfered in a bad situation and only made it worse.
The only thing I can think of to make myself feel anything is to think about Dillon, how he looked at me. Those huge arms of his and that manly chest. How I wish I could curl up into him right now.
Once clear of the building, I can’t stop the tears which blur my vision. I end up stumbling, crying and failing to remember exactly where I even parked.
But something special has happened tonight. Something I overlook.
Dillon.
He’s not just the cause of my problems, he’s also the solution to them.
All of them.
Forever.
That chest, those huge arms. Turning into what I think is the street I must’ve parked down, I find myself smacking straight into him, his arms wrapping around me straight away. My face pressed against the cool sweat on his half naked body.
I hear myself gasping and him groaning with relief. We’re both safe, for now at least.
I only know how bad I need him once I feel him, his muscles against my soft body, under my cool trembling hands. It’s enough to make me forget everything and focus only on the warm rush he gives me inside.
“Dillon…” I murmur, the tears flowing still, but tears of relief now.
Tears of joy.
Something’s gone right.
“Roxy,” he growls, holding me close, his rough hands running through my hair, which I can hear him smelling, feel him shuddering a full breath in.
I feel like I must be dreaming, but he’s real. All this is real.
Even the worst parts.
Like how am I gonna find thousands of dollars by Friday? How am I gonna pay our rent this month, on top of the usual Marconi debt? How are we gonna eat?
But there’s something more than strength in Dillon’s touch, there’s something I know, something that tells me he’s here to help me. That we’re here for each other, because we’re just made for each other.
Looking up after a time, his dark eyes are staring down at me as he wipes the tears off my face with his thumb, and I watch my hand go up to his face. Pressing my thumb against the red stain of his own blood on his cheek.
“You’re hurt,” I murmur, jumping with another gasp as I feel something else moving between us, something hot and thick rising up from
