Bound to Submit (Miami Masters 4)

“You were very quiet tonight.” Miles pulled up in front of the shelter and turned toward Hope. He’d gone back and upped the bid on the basket he’d noticed her eying, the one she now held in her lap. But even winning the bid on it hadn’t returned the spark of pleasure to her eyes that had dimmed while he’d been getting their drinks.

“I had a lovely time, Miles, but it’s been a long week. I’m just tired and need to call it a night. Thank you for the basket, and for tonight.”

He knew that wasn’t it, but he’d let it go for now. They needed to talk, and soon, but he wanted to get to the bottom of the recent vandalism on her building and strangers stopping by and asking for her. Once he’d assured himself she was safe from Mateo, he would tell her about his parents and pull the rest of the story behind her own scar from her.

“I’ll walk you up.”

She laid a trembling hand on his arm. “Bobby is right inside, Miles. Good-night.”

Cupping the back of her head, he yanked her to him and took her mouth in a deep, tongue-searching kiss. By the time he released her, she was breathless, looking at him with glazed blue eyes and a flushed face.

“I’ll talk to you soon, and you’ll tell me what’s bothering you. Good-night, Hope.” He waited until Bobby locked the front doors of the shelter behind her before driving slowly back to his place. The urge to turn around and demand she talk to him wouldn’t let up until he slipped inside the back door of the gym and heard angry voices that turned his blood to ice.

“God damned punk. Try that again and I’ll…”

Miles took over for Ed when he entered the gym and saw Mateo rising from the floor, Ed’s bruised and bloodied nose speaking volumes. Rushing forward, he kicked out and sent Mateo back down, pinning him with a glare. “Don’t you fucking move. You okay?” he asked Ed.

“He took me by surprise, is all. Nothing I haven’t had before,” the older man grumbled.

“Get some ice.” Miles swung around in time to catch Mateo coming at him. His patience long gone, he grabbed the kid’s wrist and twisted, fighting dirty as he heard the bone snap.

“Shit! You fucking broke my wrist,” Mateo gasped, holding his arm to his chest as he glared at Miles.

“You’re lucky that’s all I’ve done so far.” He advanced a menacing step forward, gratified when Mateo stumbled back and a wary flash of fear crossed his face. “Yeah, you’re getting the picture. I’m in no mood to play nice tonight. Why’d you go to Hope’s Crossing looking for her?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve told you, I don’t go near that place.”

“First, it’s the graffiti, then terrorizing an old woman and now I hear you’re asking for Hope. I warned you about staying clear of my place and anyone I care about.” Miles backed Mateo against the wall, so pissed he had to clench his hands into fists to keep from pummeling him to a bloody pulp. Ed could still defend himself, but that didn’t negate the injury this dope head had caused him, or the threats against Hope.

“I’m telling you, man, I didn’t do any of those things. I just want my brother.”

The fear in Mateo’s eyes gave Miles pause. Could he be telling the truth? If so, who was behind the recent harassment at the shelter? “You know what goes down on the streets. What have you heard about the vandalism going on at the shelter?” he demanded.

“Nothing, I swear. I gotta get my wrist fixed.”

Jake sauntered in just then, eyed Mateo pinned against the wall, cradling his arm, then switched his gaze to Ed, who stood to the side with an ice pack on his swollen nose. “I see your one night in jail didn’t do much to get you to mend your ways,” he told Mateo before looking at Miles’ angry face. “Who am I filing charges against?”

“I caught the kid breaking in, he came at me and got in a lucky swipe before I took him down. That’s when Miles returned.”

“He… he broke my fucking wrist,” Mateo whined, as if he’d done nothing wrong.

“You’re lucky that’s all he did,” Jake returned, repeating Miles’ words. He started to lead Mateo out when he paused to tell Miles, “I’ll throw the book at him and see if we can get something to stick. No guarantees.”

“There never are. Thanks.” Miles turned to Ed after Jake left. “Will you be okay? I need to check on Hope.” He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling she needed him, that something wasn’t right, more so now that he believed Mateo wasn’t the one hanging around the shelter.

“Go. I’m not so old I can’t handle a bloody nose. My pride hurts worse. I can’t believe I let him get the jump on me.”

Miles slapped him on the back with a small grin then left without another word.

Chapter 13

“Everything quiet tonight?” Hope asked Bobby as she stepped inside the shelter.

“Everyone’s tucked in, no problems. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes. I even won this in the silent auction.” She held up the large basket filled with pampering goodies. As if it hadn’t been bad enough learning the cost of the tickets for tonight’s event, Miles had added a significant amount to her bid to ensure she won the basket. She’d been struggling all night with the fact he earned the kind of money she came from, knowing deep down he wasn’t as shallow as her parents or friends, but unable to suppress the thread of fear of him turning on her the way they had. She knew next to nothing about his childhood but did know he was well-respected in the community. Would he stand by her regardless of the risk of her tainted past to his social standing, or would he bail on her, as those who’d claimed to care about her had?

“Nice, but you don’t look like you had fun.” Bobby leaned back in the chair behind the receptionist desk and narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to have a word with Miles?”

She smiled for the first time in hours. “No. I’m just tired, and as much as I enjoyed the dinner and the speakers, I’m not much for socializing with the elite of Miami. I prefer smaller gatherings, with just close friends.”

“I hear you there.”

“I’ll leave this here while I do a walk-through before turning in.” She set the basket on the counter and entered the large shelter room. A quick glance told her very few cots were empty, and the quietness indicated most of the night’s guests were already asleep. She stopped to visit with a few regulars who were still awake, saddened that they either hadn’t taken advantage of the leads on jobs she’d given them or hadn’t been able to make things work out with their families. By the time she took the elevator upstairs and slid the key to her apartment in the door, exhaustion pulled at her and she

wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed.

Closing the door behind her, she set her basket on the kitchen counter, frowning at the darkness. Flipping on a lamp she could’ve sworn she left on before she left, she looked around the living area but saw nothing amiss.

“I must have forgotten,” she mumbled, right before a noise from her bedroom drew her attention, followed by a low curse. Fear slithered up her spine and had her inching back toward the door when a young man stepped out into the hall, halting her in her tracks in stunned disbelief.

“Christian? What… what are you doing here? In my apartment?” Hope hadn’t seen Craig’s younger brother since his funeral, and he’d been an angry, bitter twelve-year-old.

With a fast, irate stride, he rushed forward and grabbed her arm before she could even think to run out the door. “You fucking bitch,” he snarled, glaring down at her out of eyes the same dark brown as his older brother’s. “You ruined my life.”

She tried jerking her arm free but he only tightened his grip, making her wince. “Christian, please, let me go and let’s talk.”

“Talk?” he sneered, getting in her face. “Craig tried talking to you, and you shot him, after you betrayed him by going to that… that place.”

Anger slowly replaced her fear and she snapped out the truth. “Your brother didn’t try talking to me, he attacked me, he shot me first. Damn it, I was only trying to defend myself.”

Christian shook her. “He loved you, you whore. And what did you do? How many guys did you spread your legs for at that club?”

“None, you moron. And Craig didn’t love me any more than I did him. We never should’ve gotten engaged, and that is something we’re both to blame for.” Hope drew a deep breath, realizing for the first time how true that was. She may have been at fault in accepting his proposal knowing full well she didn’t love him, but the only reason he’d asked her in the first place was because his parents thought they’d make an excellent match that would enhance their business and social standing.