I rolled over and yawned, my arms coming from beneath the soft white cotton of the bedding and bumped the hard body next to me. Moon’s hand went into my hair and he moved his leg between mine and something very hard hit my belly making me smile.
The smile lasted a few seconds before I covered my hand and jumped from the bed trying to get to the toilet before I lost the contents of my stomach. Yep, that was sexy.
This time the hand in my hair pulled it back away from my face while I heaved my guts. He didn’t say anything and just waited for me to finish. It was horrible and at the same time endearing because I loved him so much.
I stood and leaned back against his body.
“Crawl back into bed and I’ll grab tea and crackers,” Moon said gently.
I wanted to bitch and moan about the morning sickness but held it in. When I had my shoulder injury that took me from my career as a cop, I had a small amount of control. I could do my physical therapy and ice as needed and it worked. There was no controlling morning sickness that came in the morning, afternoon, and night. It had been a month now and no relief. I felt like the biggest baby on the planet.
Moon turned me toward the sink, his arms still around me as I picked up my toothbrush and gobbed paste on it. The minty flavor actually helped which was dumb. Everything about being pregnant was dumb.
I looked up in the mirror and met Moon’s eyes after spitting.
“Morning sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” I said lightly, feeling better now that my guts were empty.
His arms tightened and he nuzzled my neck. His smile was something that few people saw but I was the lucky one who received most of them. He smiled now, his teeth flashing with a glint in his eyes.
“They say at some point during pregnancy, you won’t be able to get enough of me.”
I wiggled my ass and wanted to jump back into bed and start over but knew the tea and crackers had to come first or I would be heaving my insides out within a short time. Moon knew it too and released me.
We sat cross legged in bed while I munched.
“I’m taking the position,” he said.
I knew he would and simply smiled.
“The weather will be a huge change,” he said doubtfully still trying to turn away from what he knew was a good thing.
“It will be cold and I already told you I was okay with it.”
We didn’t need to worry about money. Safety was something else. Moon had contacted one of his connections within the mafia. They had offered him the position. It guaranteed our safety from all mafia around the world and anyone else who threatened us. Moon’s old rivals could never touch us. We wouldn’t need guards and could go about unprotected.
As a future mom, it appealed to me.
We finished our small breakfast which Moon nibbled on too.
“What about if I washed mom and baby in the shower?” he asked with that look in his eyes that I always craved.
“Sounds heavenly.”
My belly was barely showing and when I wasn’t puking my guts up, the sex was wonderful. Moon got creative when my morning sickness hadn’t subsided. He’d added tea and crackers and more shower sex than I’d ever dreamed of.
We stepped beneath the warm spray and he began washing me tenderly while I played with him.
“This will go rather quickly if you keep that up,” he said gruffly.
“You must be getting old.”
His hand found that special place between my thighs and he pinched gently. I went to my toes.
“I’ll show you old.”
We had so much in front of us. The birth of our first child, a new location, and a new life. He was giving up more than I was but I’d never seen him happier.
I looked into his eyes before sliding to my knees and taking him in my mouth.
I loved this man and that was all that mattered.
Mr. Xavier, aka Moon, returns in Mafia High
They say your life flashes before your eyes when death is imminent. That’s not quite true. It’s a perpetually fast stream of dreams, failures, and fucking what ifs. Or at least, that’s how it was for me. People call me Mak but my real name is Madison Abigail Kinlock. I’m standing in an underground parking garage in downtown Phoenix with pepper spray pointing at a cheating douchebag. The temperature is over a hundred degrees, and sweat is dripping down my brow and into my eyes, causing them to burn. The douche, Harry Dandridge, seems to think his bat will one-up my pepper spray. He could be right. Dandridge wants my camera, along with a piece of my skull, and who can blame him? I followed Harry into the garage and took pictures while a prostitute gave him a blow job in the backseat of his white Lincoln. I would have escaped without incident if I hadn’t decided a close-up dick shot was called for—all in the name of cheating douchebags, of course. Harry was well occupied when a speedi
Thug One nods his dark, closely cropped head. “Dandridge is coming with us,” he says in a deep voice that one would expect from someone his size. Harry slowly lowers the bat and takes two steps in my direction. I keep my pepper spray trained on him because he’s still got the bat. The buckets of sweat dripping off Harry’s face are telling and there’s a good chance he might pee his pants any second. His willy is still hanging out and this is not something I care to see. Harry has the nerve to whisper at me like we’re a team, “Get me out of here and there’s ten grand in it for you.” He takes another step in my direction. I have no idea why he thinks I can save either of us with a can of pepper spray. I give a half-eye to Caddy-thug-dudes. Thug One steps closer, his gun turns fully to Harry. “Moon wants Dandridge and one way or another, he’s ours.” Well shit. I can’t help feeling sympathy for Harry. Whatever he’s done, he’s pissed off the wrong person. I know who Moon is. If you’re a
I’m startled when his rough fingers slide across my neck and over my jaw. Talk about electrical currents. I’m frozen by his touch and yet I want to jump up and run from the room screaming. His fingers stop at the source of my pain and I flinch. An “Awwwe” escapes me. He lifts his hand away and gently lets me rest back against the pillows. “Do you know what day it is?” he asks. A bit of my apprehension recedes. You don’t make a cement pillar out of someone after asking them questions that determine the extent of brain trauma. “Wednesday?” It comes out as a question. “The date?” I need to think about it for a moment. Fourth of July was last Saturday. “July eighth.” This time it’s not a question. I’m gaining my bearings. My eyes are also adjusting to the shadows and I can make out more of Moon’s features. No pictures do him justice. He looks like a dark version of an Italian mob boss. I can’t help but remember the bits and pieces that came through about him while I was an officer.
The door closes and I begin trembling. I’m not sure if it’s caused by Moon, the overload of adrenaline, or the hit to my head. I remind myself who he is—all the horrible things I know about him. He’s the embodiment of every criminal who has crossed my path. He has multiple deaths credited to his organization. There’s never been enough evidence to pin them on Moon, but law enforcement knows he’s responsible. And even with all these thoughts, my damn body doesn’t care. I inhale slowly and try to gain my composure. This isn’t me, it’s a momentary lapse. I’m not controlled by raging sex hormones switched on by a hot, magnetic body. “I’m not,” I mutter aloud. Thank God he took my stupid remark about being a cop for a “no” to his dinner invitation. I can’t imagine being seen anywhere with him. Or going anywhere with him. My gaze moves to my BDUs and camera on the dresser. I do a quick sweep of the room, wondering if Moon has hidden cameras. I wouldn’t put it past him. I’m assuming that I’
Gomez steps back and gestures for me to precede him. It’s stupid to not want him at my back. If they wanted to hurt me, it would have happened by now. I walk out with my head held high. We’re on the second floor at the end of a long walkway that has black metal decorative railing on one side and overlooks the room below. The floors are polished red Spanish tile, the walls painted different earth tones with alcoves accented by recessed lights to display the art. Not just paintings, but statues and pottery too. Way out of my blue-collar league. There are six doors along the hallway, and I glance back noticing the double doors behind me at the end farthest from the stairs. I have no doubt whose room that is. I need to get out of here quickly. The staircase is long and winding—something you see in old movies about the Deep South. The wall along the staircase contains more eclectic art. I’ve never been an artsy person, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that it’s expensive. I try not t
My apartment is in the northwest valley by an old high school that once had two acres of rolling grass where students sat and ate lunch. A few years ago, the grass was changed to the customary desert landscaping—rocks—and now high fences separate the school from the road. Passing through a metal detector is also required to enter the building. I never worked this district as a cop. In Phoenix, you don’t live where you work. You travel as far as possible. The last thing you want is to run into someone undesirable when off duty. Home should be your sanctuary. I, like most city officers, varied my route when leaving the department and heading home. You always check to be sure you aren’t followed. It’s the life of a cop and these lessons begin at the academy.Gomez pulls into my apartment complex, which is kitty-corner from the school. He travels toward the back and I wonder if he helped return my car. The clock on the dash shows it’s been more than five hours since I took dick pics of Mr
It doesn’t matter that Moon woke me every hour; I’m a new person in the morning. All his texts but the last were on point and only asked if I was okay. The last one is making me grit my teeth, and this time it doesn’t hurt. aka Criminal Tonight, dinner. My reply is again short and to the point. No. aka Criminal I’ll pick you up at seven. My growl is louder than the one Gomez gave me. If Moon thinks I’ll be here at seven, he’s insane. Am I running away? Damn straight and that pisses me off even more. I don’t run away from trouble, I run toward it. But this trouble is of an entirely different nature. It’s colossal trouble with a capital T. I hit the shower again. This is what we do in the Valley of the Sun. We cool down in a shower at least twice a day and sometimes more. Hitting the pool counts too. Practically everyone has their own swimming pool or access to one. I plan to work out this afternoon after I’ve finished the business with Penny Dandridge, and I’ll shower again bef
Terry’s office door is closed, which offers another clue. “Spill it, lady,” I say to Brenda. “He’s in there with his attorney.” She points toward Terry’s door. I’m stunned. “Attorney at Law Terry the Fairy has an attorney?” Her grin widens at the use of Terry’s nickname. She has worked for Terry for more than ten years. I like her, even though she carries true affection for Terry. In my opinion, he doesn’t deserve her. This, however, does not mean she lacks a sense of humor. “Apparently, he took the wrong woman for a ride and she’s filed a lawsuit and made a complaint to the state bar.” I don’t like Terry, but I’ve never heard that he forces women. A lawsuit means she wants money. Now, I get the humor. Filing a lawsuit for something outrageous is something Terry would do. Today, he’s getting back some of his own medicine. “I’m dying to ask what he did, but I’m almost afraid.” She bites her lip before releasing it and replies, “I’m horrible for even smiling.” She laughs into her