Page 25 of Nasty
He grunted, as if he were conceding to this. His voice was so deep and low, it sounded like a rockslide. “Still. You shouldn’t let a remark cause you to retreat. You’re stronger than that, Angel. You should tell me to go fuck myself if you don’t like what I’m saying.”
“If you’ll recall, Idotell you to go fuck yourself. Regularly.”
“When you’re mad, maybe. But when you feel uncomfortable, you laugh. You make it okay for me to tease the shit out of you when you laugh. You’re saying, ‘I find that funny.’”
“Maybe I do find it funny.”
Fix dropped the black spatula he was using to stir the sauce into the pan. He whipped around so quickly, I didn’t even have time to react as he rushed me, placing his hands on the counter, trapping me between his arms. He leaned in close, so close that I could see the filaments of silver and amber that twined together in his eyes. His mouth was barely an inch away from mine. The tip of his nose grazed my own, and my breath hitched at the back of my throat.
“You think it would be funny if I were to lick you right now, Sera? Would it be funny if I used my dick to rub your pussy until you screamed from the anticipation? Would you be laughing if I bent you over this counter, and I tore your panties from your body, and I spread your legs as wide as they would go? Would it be hilarious if I knotted your hair around my hand, so I could jerk your head back as I fucked the shit out of you?”
His voice was like coarse silk, spilling from his lips. Lips I badly wanted to suck into my mouth and bite right now. I’d been kind of nervous a moment ago, on the back foot because of the way he was speaking so casually. But his tone was far from casual now. It was loaded, and it was tense, and it was turning me on more than I cared to admit.
“No. That wouldn’t be funny,” I breathed. “Not even a little bit.”
He growled, and the sound that came out of him sent a penetrating shiver chasing down my spine. His gaze was alive and searching; for such impossibly cool, frosty colored eyes, they burned rather impressively. I felt naked, as if he’d just torn every scrap of material from my body and left me standing bare and vulnerable in front of him.
“I’m not going to fuck you now,” he informed me. “You need to eat. But later…once your appetite’s been assuaged…I’m going to take care ofmine.”
Oh. God. The tip of his tongue was gripped between his teeth. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, not even for a second. I didn’t know what to do with myself. “Sounds like you’re very hungry,” I said.
A twisted smile quirked his mouth up to one side. “You have no idea, Sera. I’m fuckingravenous.” He leaned in a fraction closer. He was going to kiss me. He was going to kiss me. My breath caught. His lips were a millimeter away from mine when he pulled back, leaving behind a vacuum where he’d been standing only seconds ago. What the…?
My head was spinning as I righted myself against the counter, straightening out my shirt. Damn him. Damn him and his ability to turn me into a nervous teenager. He didn’t even need to try. There was something so sexual about him. One second, he was admonishing me for letting him make me feel uncomfortable. The next, he was looming over, pressing his body up against mine, making me see stars.
“There are bowls in that cupboard,” Fix directed, pointing to a cupboard on the other side of the kitchen. “Grab two. The food’s just about ready.”
As I took the bowls out of the cupboard and placed them down on the dark grey marble countertop, it felt like my heart was working overtime, trying and failing to keep up with Fix’s erratic mood. He’d been so worried on the drive here, as had I. And then he’d been angry because of Monica. And now, he seemed entirely focused on making me blush.
My blushing days were behind me, though. A woman didn’t have room for such frivolous things as blushing when her life was being threatened and the man she was currently fucking might just be insane. At least that’s what I was telling myself, in order to convince myself that the heat in my cheeks wasn’t rising.
I watched Fix as he went back to tending the food. He was unknowable in nearly every way—a different, inhuman kind of creature that I couldn’t pretend to understand. He was dark, and tortured, and beautiful, and more than a little fucked up. He was the very study of villainy. But where did that leave me? What was my role in this fucked up fairytale. Was I meant to play the simpering damsel in distress, or was I going to pick up a gun and start shooting? The thought that I might have to do just that was paralyzing. It was empowering at the same time, though. I had a gun. I knew how to shoot it. I was forewarned and forearmed, and I wasn’t going to back down without a fight. This situation was not going to break me. No way, no how.
Fix served up the food and handed me the bowls, which I carried through to the dining table. He sat down opposite me, stuck his fork, loaded with food, into his mouth, and he grinned at me. I followed suit, taking a bite of the beef stroganoff he’d somehow miraculously put together in a little over half an hour, and my eyes rolled back into my head. “Oh my god,” I groaned. “This is delicious.”
My compliment earned me a salacious wink. “I know,” Fix said loftily. He bit down on the tines of his fork. “I’m basically a fucking genius.”
ELEVEN
DUE DILIGENCE
FIX
I knew New York like the back of my hand. If you wanted a fake ID, you needed to head to Lower Manhattan. If you wanted guns, typically you’d need to head out to The Bronx. Staten Island harbored some of the most violent, skilled, and dangerous thugs in the continental U.S. But if you wanted to employ the services of someone skilled in the art of hacking and data infraction, you needn’t go much further than Brooklyn. Handy, since Monica’s apartment wasn’t very far, and I had to go collect her laptop. Sera had fallen asleep on the couch an hour after we’d eaten, so I left her a note on the table and crept out of the penthouse, stuffing a vile-looking knife into its sheath and hooking it onto the back of my belt as I jogged down the stairs.
Outside, the sun was blazing.So much had happened already today; it was hard to believe it was only one in the afternoon. If I could get Monica’s laptop and head over to Williamsburg in the next hour or so, there was a chance I could drop off the computer and head back before Sera even woke up from her nap.
I stopped and bought a slice of pizza and a bottle of Snapple at the seven eleven two blocks from Monica’s place. The doorman of The Oakwood Suites—an older guy with a rust colored moustache and a network of scars rick-racked across his throat, saw me as I hurried toward the building, and his back straightened like a rod. I’d made it very clear to the owners of The Oakwood that it would make me very happy if Gil were to secure a permanent position as doorman here. The twenty thousand dollar ‘gift’ I’d slid in front of the strata manager had eased things along. I’d first met Gil years ago at an underground cage fight, where he’d been in the process of breaking both the arms of a guy who had been trying to assault one of the female bartenders in the bathrooms. The guy hadn’t flinched as he’d grappled with the guy, snapping his forearms like they were twigs. He was huge, built like a brick shit house, but he was also very fast, didn’t care for the authorities much, and gave precisely zero fucks about hurting people when the need arose. I’d wanted to make sure Monica was safe in her apartment, and so Gil had been watching over her, making sure no nefarious types gained access to the building, for the past three years.
“Mr. Marcosa,” he said stiffly, thrusting out a shovel of a hand for me to shake. “Been a while. I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“Got back today. I’m assuming Monica came back here a couple of hours ago?”
“Flew in with a face like thunder. I didn’t ask what was wrong,” he answered.
He might have been big, and he might have been tough as nails, but Gil was also smart; asking Monica what was wrong when she was mid-meltdown was never a good idea. She’d claw a guy’s eyes out just for making the mistake of looking in her general direction. I gave a dry, rueful bark of a laugh. “If I’m not back down in thirty minutes, call an ambulance.”
Gil flashed a jumble of crooked teeth at me, wheezing—presumably an attempt at a laugh. I clapped him on the shoulder as I entered the building.
