Dubious: The Loan Shark Duet (Book 1) Read online

  Her nostrils flare. The thick layer of foundation around her nose cracks with thin lines. The pores are big with white hairs standing erect in each follicle. Every minute detail of her age catches my attention.

  “You won’t live forever, Magda.”

  She straightens and adjusts her jacket. “Neither will you.” A superior smile curves her lips. “Who knows? You may die before me.” She turns, making it clear she’s leaving my office on her terms.

  There’s no love lost between my mother and I, and no amount of introspection to figure out where it went wrong will change that. We are who we are.

  I pick up the phone and set out to do what I’ve been meaning to when I walked through the door.

  Quincy answers with a bright, “Yes, boss?”

  “Come to my study.”

  I take a deep breath, and steel myself. A short while later, he enters. I want to break his face, but it’s not his fault he’s fallen for Valentina. As little as it’s hers. She’s a gorgeous woman with a courageous heart and a soft spot for animals. How could he not be under her spell?

  “Sit.” I point at the chair facing my desk.

  He takes the seat, his posture at ease.

  “I have a mission for you tonight.”

  He waits quietly for me to continue.

  “You’re going to fuck Valentina.”

  10

  Gabriel

  I may as well have drenched Quincy with a bucket of ice water.

  He coughs. “Excuse me?”

  “Take her out on a date. Someplace nice. Romantic. Dinner by candlelight, that kind of thing.” I flip my credit card at him. “All expenses paid. Take two guards to make sure you’re safe.”

  His eyes grow larger by the second.

  The next part is hard for me to get out. I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth. “Then get a room at the Westcliff Hotel and fuck her.”

  His skin is as pale as the whites of his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s nothing to understand. Wear a condom and be gentle. It’s her first time. Oh, and she’s having her period. That kind of thing doesn’t put you off, does it?”

  “Of course not, but––”

  Not able to stomach the conversation any longer, I say gruffly, “You’re dismissed.”

  He jumps to his feet, obviously eager to escape my presence.

  “One more thing,” I say as he gets to the door, “I don’t want to see you until tomorrow morning. Make sure you stay the hell away from me until sunrise, and then I expect a full report.”

  He all but jumps through the door, leaving me alone with a kind of agony no human being can understand.

  * * *

  In the afternoon, a visit from Sylvia puts me further on edge. I meet her in my study. It keeps things professional. She declines my offer for a drink and sits down on the corner of my desk, the slit of her skirt riding up her thigh. At some point in time, I would’ve kneeled at her feet and kissed my way down that leg, all the way to her toes. Now, there’s no desire for the woman who married me in a pretty white dress with a fake smile on her face.

  “What’s with Carly’s new diet?” she asks. “We already discussed this. You’re not supposed to change her meal plan without consulting me.”

  I fight to control my irritability. “I’m not aware of any diet.”

  “She’s wheat intolerant, for God’s sake. She’s not supposed to eat pasta. What’s wrong with Marie? Is she going senile?”

  “Marie had a stroke. Valentina’s taking care of the cooking.”

  “The maid who tried to kill our daughter?” she shrieks.

  “She didn’t do it on purpose. It was another one of Carly’s attention-seeking, self-destructive actions.”

  “Don’t you dare take that maid’s side over our daughter’s.”

  I sigh deeply. “Relax. Valentina has been punished. It won’t happen again.”

  “I won’t relax where Carly is concerned. She has a modeling audition in a month. She can’t afford to pick up weight with carbs and creamy pasta sauces.”

  “She’s not doing a modeling audition.”

  “It’s not up for discussion.”

  “Have you called the therapist?”

  She stiffens. “Carly doesn’t need a therapist. It’s hormones. Normal teenager issues.”

  “Sylvia.” I say her name warningly. “Carly never got over our divorce. It’s time to face the fact that she may have issues we’re not equipped to deal with.”

  She snickers. “That’s rich coming from The Breaker.”

  “Keep the business out of this.”

  “How can I? It’s all that matters in your life.”

  “Yet, that’s why you married me. Security and money, don’t you remember?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. Why do you always have to bring up the same old accusations? It’s boring.” She gets to her feet. “Shall I speak to your maid?”

  “You lost the right to address my staff when you walked out.”

  She rolls her shoulders. “Dear God, Gabriel, get over me and move on.”

  “I am, Sylvia. You have no idea.”

  “Good. It’ll make you easier to get on with.” She walks to the door with a straight back. “Tell Carly I dropped in.”

  “Why don’t you call her tonight and tell her yourself?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Fuck you, Gabriel. I love my daughter, and she knows it.”

  “Does she?”

  She yanks the door open and slams it hard enough to shake the frame. Dragging a hand over my face, I take a moment to calm myself before I go out for the business of the day that requires the end of another scumbag’s life.

  * * *

  When I get home, I shower and spend time with Carly, helping her with her math homework. I don’t go down for dinner. I can’t bear to look at Valentina. I’m too terrified I’ll change my mind. After a whiskey too many, I call Rhett and tell him to meet me in the gym.

  He enters cautiously, probably thinking of the last time we wrestled because he shot Valentina’s dog.

  Dragging a bench from the free weights section to the metal chains attached to the wall, I sit down. “Cuff me.”

  It takes him a moment to find his voice. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Not stupid enough to defy me, he approaches slowly. I hold out my wrists. He secures first the one, then the other in the metal cuffs.

  “Take the key with you,” I say, “and don’t give it to anyone, no matter what.”

  “The key for the cuffs or for the door?”

  “Both.”

  His head bobs up and down, like a toy dog on a car dashboard. “When must I come back?”

  “At six tomorrow morning and not a second before. Got that?”

  He gulps. “Yes.”

  “Go.”

  His eyes say I’ve finally lost it, but he doesn’t argue. The key scrapes in the lock after he has closed the door, making me a prisoner of free will.

  * * *

  Valentina

  Wearing the new dress Gabriel bought, I bite my nails while I wait in the kitchen. I’ve never been on a date. I should be studying, but I’m curious about what Gabriel has planned. The door opens just after eight, but it’s not Gabriel who steps inside. It’s Quincy.

  “Hi,” I say with an easy smile, half-relieved and half-stressed, because now I’ll have to go through the waiting anxiety again.

  There’s a flush on his cheeks as he takes in the red dress. “You look nice.”

  This is so uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

  “Ready?”

  I blink. Maybe he’s driving me somewhere to meet Gabriel. “Um, yes.”

  “Let’s go.” He looks me over. “Take a jacket. It’ll get fresh later.”

  I grab my black trench coat and follow Quincy to the car. He drives. Another car follows at a distance. I peer at the headlights in the side mirror.

  “Are they going to follow us all night?”
/>   “Protection,” he mumbles, his forehead pleated in a frown.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I was thinking the Thai Hut. It’s got five-star reviews for its curry dishes, and it’s fancy without being uptight. What do you think?”

  I have no idea where or what the Thai Hut is, but my brain is stuck on something else. “Wait, you mean you and I decide? Gabriel’s not coming?”

  He shoots me a quick look. “Ah, fuck. He didn’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  He clenches the wheel and faces straight ahead. “This is—How do I put it? He set us up on a date.”

  “Me and you?”

  “Hey.” He utters a wry chuckle. “I know I’m not the world’s greatest hunk, but there’s no need to say it like you won’t go out with me if I’m the last man on earth, which you probably wouldn’t, even if it was true.”

  I’m so gob smacked I have to remind myself to shut my mouth. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.” He shifts in his seat. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. All I know is Gabriel ordered me to show you a good time tonight.”

  “He ordered you?” Who the hell orders anyone to go on a date? What am I? A piece of meat up for auction? I narrow my eyes. “What else?”

  He steals another glance at me. “What do you mean what else?”

  “A good time and what else?”

  He wipes a hand over his face. “Dinner, candles, and…”

  “And what?”

  “He wants me to sleep with you.”

  “Stop the car.”

  “Valentina––”

  “Now!” I’m already jerking on the door handle.

  He brings the car to a screeching halt on the side of the road and grabs my arm. “Please, calm down. We’ve got his guards watching us.”

  I still at his words. I can’t believe Gabriel set me up with Quincy. For sex. I cover my face with my hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  He pulls my hands away. “It’s not your fault. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t know what Gabriel’s idea with the whole thing is, but we may as well go out and have a good time since he’s paying.” He adds quickly, “I’m not saying you have to sleep with me. We’ll just say it didn’t work out that way. I know you don’t feel for me like that, and I’m not in the habit of forcing women.”

  “Thanks.” I drag in a shaky breath. “I guess you’re right. We’ll just go on our make-believe date and order the most expensive dishes on the menu.”

  “Good.” He pats my hand. “Now I can relax. Man, this was eating me. You have no idea.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Sorry. I didn’t want you to stress over sex with me. Must be a terrifying thought.”

  He gives me another wry smile. “Don’t put words in my mouth, now.”

  The tightness in my chest vanishes a bit, but not the hurt that Gabriel would rather send me off to be serviced like a cow or horse than deal with me himself. I need to change the uncomfortable subject.

  “How come you got to train with Bruno?” I ask.

  “I was the only one more or less not scared of him.”

  “You should treat him better. I saw what you’re feeding him. May as well give him sawdust.”

  He chortles. “Yeah? What do you recommend?”

  “I’ll give you the name of a good brand, but you’ll have to order it from the vet.”

  “Is this an order or a request?” he asks mockingly.

  “It’s not like Gabriel can’t afford the best.”

  “You’re right.” His smile is bright. “We’ll give it a try.”

  The Thai Hut is a small wooden house on stilts with colorful fairy lights draped over the porch. The interior smells of curry, and the ambience is warm. Despite myself, I relax with Quincy’s easy banter. We polish off a bottle of wine, and by the time we ask for the bill, there are no other diners left. Since Quincy is over the limit, one of the guards drives us back. At home, he kisses me on the cheek and saunters off to the staff quarters.

  The night guard lets me in. After a second’s hesitation, I take the stairs to Gabriel’s room. I want some answers, and I want them now. I push the door open, anger making me brave, but the room is dark and empty. Maybe he’s out himself, doing what he wanted me to do with Quincy. Banishing the thought from my mind, I go to my room and try not to think about him as I fall asleep.

  * * *

  Gabriel

  The overhead tungsten bulbs buzz with a constant noise. Their blue-white light washes out the shadows with an overly bright intensity. It’s been an hour since Rhett left me in the gym. I’m going through the week’s business in my mind, trying to focus on planning and figures, but my thoughts keep on drifting to Valentina and Quincy. Where are they? What are they doing? What is she wearing? Is her hair hanging loose down her back, or did she take it up in the messy bun she does on a Sunday? Maybe it’s tied in the ponytail she wears for work, and my guard is pulling the elastic from the silky strands right now, letting is spill over her full breasts. Is he pressing his lips against the soft, plump curve of her mouth? Is his hand between her legs?

  I jerk on the cuffs, rattling the chains like a beast in a cage. A cry of outrage fills the space. It takes me several long breaths to find some resemblance of calm, forcing my brain to function rationally. I made a promise. This is for Valentina. It shreds my heart to bleeding pieces, but I’ve seen the way they look at each other. Quincy is smitten with my woman, and she likes him more than she’ll ever admit. Daily, I’m forced to witness the way her eyes light up when they run into each other in the garden. His gentleness toward her is shoved down my throat. It’s a reminder that I’ll never have her like another man can have her, a man with a handsome face and an easy smile. A man without darkness and a need to hurt and own her. She’ll never be mine like that––freely––but it doesn’t matter. I’ll never let her go. In exchange for forever, I’m giving her this one night. She deserves it pretty with a gentle man on top, offering her a handsome face to stare up at and an unbroken body to hold onto.

  Does he find her wet?

  “No!”

  I strain against the chains. My roar sounds animalistic, even to my own ears. I can’t do it. I can’t stand it. Fuck my promise.

  “Rhett!” My voice carries through the room, lifting the roof. “Let me the fuck out! Open the door!”

  I shout profanities and utter threats even Magda will be ashamed of, jerking on the cuffs until my skin is chaffed raw and I’m running the risk of pulling my arms out of their sockets. I scream until my voice is hoarse, but the sounds are trapped in the room designed for exactly that purpose.

  “Valentina!”

  I struggle in a rage so dark that reason flees my mind. I grapple with thoughts that slice my heart open and blind me in the red fury of my possessive jealousy. I wrestle with nothing but the air, as if I can strangle those images torturing my mind and lay them to rest. Clawing and kicking, I twist my body until the bench falls from under me. I kick at the wood with my boots, the splintering crunch as it breaks a satisfying sound that feeds my need for violence. Pain shoots up my injured leg, a sharp stab lancing in my knee. I fight until every part of me is hurting as much as my heart, until I have no more energy left.

  Sweat-drenched and battered, I sag in my chains, hanging by the threads of sanity. The irony of where I find myself isn’t lost on me. I’m chained in my own torture chamber, suffering a self-inflicted torture far worse than anything I’ve done to any enemy who’s ever had the displeasure of crossing this doorstep.

  “Valentina.”

  Her name is a croak. My throat burns. I can no longer scream. I can only sob and give in to the cruelty of my imagination as it leads me on a graphic tour of Valentina’s first time.

  * * *

  Sometime during the early hours, I wake. I found a position on my knees, my arms pulled up and my head hanging between my shoulders. I must’ve passed out from physical exhaustion. My throat and ey
es are dehydrated. Scratchy. Everything inside of me is raw. I did her a favor, but the selfish part of me is too great, the possessive part of me too complete to accept it gracefully. I glance at the wall clock. It’s done.

  Too late.

  The key turns in the lock, and the door opens. Rhett pauses when he takes in the scene.

  “Come get me,” I grate out.

  He hesitates, but finally approaches with quick steps. As he unlocks me, he avoids my eyes. The minute I’m free he retreats to the far end of the room.

  “Leave,” I growl, frightened that I’ll take it out on him.

  He doesn’t let me tell him twice. Like an arrow from a bow, he shoots through the door, his steps falling in a fast jog down the hallway.

  I wipe a hand over my face, the stubble where there’s no beard a reminder that I need a shower and a shave. Every ounce of my body is pulled tight. More than anything, I want to hunt Quincy down and kill him. In less than an hour, I’ll face him and listen to his account. I want every fucking detail so I can pretend I’ve been there, part of it all. I’m too damn jealous to even spare myself the pain.

  Walking to the wet bar that’s always stocked with bottled water and drinks––torturing people is thirsty work––I pour a whiskey and shoot it back neat. Then another. And another. I need the alcohol if I’m not to crush Quincy’s windpipe and rip off his dick. For good measure, I have a fourth. The alcohol burns my stomach and relieves the worst of the rawness in my throat from the vile curses I uttered all night. My skin heats, and my brain blurs enough to dull my emotions, enough to get through the hour that awaits without committing a murder in my own house.

  * * *

  Valentina

  At five, I’m up as usual, but Gabriel doesn’t come to the kitchen for his coffee. I leave his breakfast on the hot tray and shrug inwardly. If he had a rough night, I hope he wakes up with a hell of a hangover. It will serve him right for the stunt he tried to pull on me. Still seething with annoyance, I take the washing basket and set out to collect the dirty laundry. In the hallway, my step slows as none other than Gabriel turns the corner, heading my way.