What's Your Price

Gabe cupped her cheek. “That couple is safe from me. I got what I wanted.”

“What exactly do you want?” she asked.

“You.”

“But you don’t have me.”

He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “Laura, you know who I am. The kind of man I am. You belong to me, and if you even think to test me, I will warn you. Frank and Cynthia are safe, but if you try to see anyone else, I will kill any bastard who thinks they can touch you.”

“I could run to the cops. Tell them everything I know about you.”

“You don’t know a whole lot, and you don’t trust the cops.”

“You think you know me?”

Then he said his name.

Laura tensed up and tried to pull away, but Gabe moved a lot faster, caging her in against his hard body and the gate.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pull away.”

“I’ve got to go home.”

He slammed his lips on hers, but any arousal she had died.

Gabe cursed. “Tell me what he did to you.”

“You’ve got the ways of finding out. Figure it out yourself.”

“You’re not alone.”

She laughed. “Don’t lie. I’ve always been alone.”

He pressed his cock against her. She was surprised he wasn’t hard. Gabe stroked her hair back from her cheek. “I will prove to you that you’re never going to be alone again.” He stepped back. “If you don’t want to talk about it. We won’t. Take me back to your place.”

“No, I want to go home. Alone.”

“Not happening.”

She glanced left then right. “My home isn’t some fancy nightclub or expensive penthouse suite.”

“How did you know I lived in a penthouse?” he asked.

“It was a guess.”

He chuckled. “You guessed right.”

“A guy like you, commanding this city. Throwing out threats of death and pain, you’re not going to be in a cheap motel room or apartment block. Like a king, you’ll rule over your subjects.”

“And I rule over you. I know what makes your body tick. Take me back to your place. Let me see, or are you too afraid I might break beneath that icy shell you keep in place?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“No, I don’t suppose you are. You’re not afraid of anything.”

Seeing no point in arguing, she took his arm and walked him back to her apartment. It wasn’t the greatest area of the city, nor was it the worst. She’d seen the pimps on the street corners with the girls working for them. Drug deals going down. Parents throwing their kids out while they deal with abusive partners.

She’d seen a lot.

She turned the lock on the apartment block and stepped inside. The elevator still hadn’t been fixed, so they walked the three flights of stairs to her floor. The third apartment on the right. Six locks were fixed to the front door. She refused to be embarrassed. The locks never made her feel safe.

Entering her home, she flicked on the lights, and as Gabe entered, she locked the door behind him. A force of habit.

The apartment had a slight chill, and she moved to the thermostat, turning it up a couple of degrees. With that done, she removed her jacket and offered to take his.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Sure.”

He moved toward her small seating area. She had no pictures or a television. Just a few books on a shelf. The furniture she had was used, and she’d covered it with some fabrics she’d bought on sale. The day she started to rent this place, she’d spent the entire weekend scrubbing it from top to bottom. Once it was clean, she did a quick paint job and then took the time to make it feel like home.

In her world, coming from nothing, this was heaven to her. This was what she’d built up by herself. No one could take that away from her, even if they tried. She entered her kitchen, took two cups, and began to make them both a cup of coffee. All the while, she was nervous because Gabe Moore, the city’s monster, was in her apartment. They’d fucked a couple of times, but this was more. This was intimate.

“Why are you shaking?” Gabe asked, startling her.

She dropped the spoon and spun around to face him. “I … you make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” He took a step into her kitchen. “Do you think you don’t make me nervous?”

“You’re powerful.”

“And you have the power to break me, Laura.”

“It’s just sex.”

“I’m a forty-year-old man. I’m old enough to be your dad.”

She frowned. “If you had me at fifteen.”

“There are younger parents out there.”

“Gabe, you’re not my dad. I don’t even know who my dad is.”

“I know most of your story.”

She folded her arms, not wanting to hear it.

“I know everything about you that’s put on a piece of paper, and the rest I’m beginning to understand. You were forgotten. People have used you. Tossed you aside, and because of that, you’ve spent most of your life fighting.”