GABRIEL
I know the bastard sees me. How can he not?
I'm standing between two parked cars, in the shadows. Riley's back is to me, but I command enough attention that the prick has noticed me.
I stare, hard. Unblinking.
I hated that fuck from the moment I saw him in the restaurant, gazing at Riley with lust written all over his face. My ability to read people is sharp, and I could tell he was the kind of man who would profess to be an intellectual, a geek, but actually be a predator.
Probably women rejected him his entire life, and now that he has a little bit of corporate power he tries to force it on young, innocent women.
Riley's not innocent, thank God. She knows exactly what's going on, as far as I can tell from her body language. She keeps stepping back, and her hand's in her purse, hopefully grasping her cell or her keys as a weapon.
But I'm here, and she'll be fine. I point at the guy, and he freezes.
A couple of things could happen. One is that the guy will tell her that a creepy-as-fuck man is staring at them. Riley will turn and see me — and hopefully be relieved that I'm here.
Or the guy will get freaked out and leave Riley alone.
His eyes shift from left to right, and he stares at me. Then he looks at the building and says something.
When he walks away, I step back into the darkness so Riley won't see me.
My mission isn't over yet, though.
# # #
The man doesn't take a cab back to his hotel. Riley had mentioned that the out-of-town editors were staying in a nearby hotel. It's several blocks from the restaurant, and fortunately, the guy walks there alone.
I follow.
That makes what I'm about to do so much less complicated. Although, if need be, I'd break into his hotel room. I haven't ruled out the possibility if he somehow gets into the hotel before I can catch up with him.
About halfway to the hotel, the guy looks over his shoulder and spots me. Unlike other cities, the streets of downtown Tampa are almost empty at night. They're dark corridors punctuated by palm trees and flickering streetlamps. There are no pedestrians because the businesses all close. A pretty dismal place, and this guy knows it, especially when he spots me, a well-dressed man in a suit and tie behind him.
He picks up his pace until he's going along at a jog. Surely he's recognized me from the parking lot.
I overtake him easily and drag him into an alley, slamming him against the hard brick wall of a building.
"What do you want, man? My wallet? Take it! It's yours!"
I pin him to the wall, his sweater gathered in my fists, which are pushing his chest into the brick.
"I don't want your fucking money." I spit in his face and he winces.
"Then...then...what? Please, let me go. Please? I have a girlfriend back in New York."
Typical. "Then what the fuck were you doing hitting on that reporter?" My tone is a menacing growl.
"Who? Riley? I wasn't, I swear. And what's it to you, jerkoff?"
With one hand, I pull him toward me. With the other, I punch him squarely in the left eye. I've always had a great right hook.
He howls in pain. Now he's aware that I'm not fucking around.
"What's your name?"
He blubbers a little and I slam him back against the bricks. "Name, dickhead."
"Kyle Williams."
"Kyle Williams."
"Yes." He's gasping for breath now. "Who are you? Are you Riley's boyfriend?"
"You don't need to know who I am. You're an editor at the company that owns our local paper, am I right?"
"Why do you want to know?"
I punch him a second time. Oops, might have broken his nose. "I'm asking the questions here, asshole. Do you work for the company that owns the Tribune?"
"Yes," he groans. "In New York."
"Good. That way I know where to find you." He's not even trying to fight back. Pussy.
His one good eye widens, while the other is working hard to swell shut from my two punches. "Please, just let me go. You can take money."
I slap his face. "What makes you think I need money, you sick fuck?"
"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I wanna go to my hotel room." He's crying now, and I don't care.
"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to treat Riley like the professional she is. You're not going to hit on her, or for that matter, any of the women at the Tribune. Got it?"
He nods vigorously. Jesus, blood and snot are leaking out of his nose and a droplet lands on my white shirt. Disgusting.
"You're not going to demote her. You're not going to talk with her. You're not going to do anything with her. You're going to treat her like a human being and not a cum receptacle for your out-of-town carnal desires. You're going to allow her to shine as a professional person, do you hear me?"
He nods again and cries a yes.
"You really need to keep your dick out of your professional life. Let this serve as a warning."
I find his hand and reach for his index finger.
"No, please —"
I bend his finger back, so the knuckle kisses the back of his hand and makes a sickening snap. His protests end with a long howl that echoes through the alley. I step away and he crumples to the asphalt, clutching his hand.
"I think you broke it," Kyle wails.
I shrug and walk away, taking out a handkerchief to wipe my skin from the filth.
# # #
Riley texts while I'm in the back of the Mercedes.
I'm finally home, she writes. Where are you?
In the car. You safe?
Yes
I'll call you when I get home myself.
Ten minutes later, I set the phone on the bureau and video call her from my bedroom as I'm taking off my tie. Adrenaline is flowing through me, as it always does when I'm doling out vengeance. I have to admit, I haven't done anything like tonight in a long while. Sure, I've roughed up and even killed a few men over business conflicts, but I haven't threatened anyone because of a woman in years.
A decade, even.
Riley answers on the fourth ring, her gorgeous face filling the screen. "You could've texted me to let me know you were video calling. I would've had time to prepare."
I chuckle. "You never have to prepare for me, you know that, right? You're always gorgeous."
She rolls her eyes. "Please. Look at these dark circles under my eyes."
I strip off my shirt and peer into the screen so only my eye is visible. This makes her laugh, a sound that's the audio equivalent of joy.
"How'd you get the dark circles?" I step back and pull the tie from around my collar.
"A very wicked man kept me up all night in his bed. And then he teased me in a public bathroom."
"My God. Who would do such evil things?"
She shakes her head dramatically. "You want to know what else?"
"Tell me." I start to unbutton my shirt.
She leans closer to her phone's camera. "He did unspeakable sexual things to me. Can you believe it?"
Grinning, I strip off my shirt. "I believe any man wouldn't be able to control themselves around you."
"What. Ever. But I am exhausted." She affects a pout. "And horny, after what happened in the bathroom."
"Oh, really?" My dick is twitching at the thought of fingering her in public. I'm doing it a lot, apparently.
"Yeah. But I'm not much into phone sex. It makes me feel weirdly vulnerable. So I'm going to hang up, get out my vibrator, and take care of myself so I can sleep."
My eyes widen in amazement. I love how open and honest Riley is about sex. Meanwhile, my dick is now rock hard. "Well, that's an image that's going to stay in my mind all night."
She grins saucily. "Good. Let's chat tomorrow before we go to dinner. Do you still want to do something tomorrow?"
"Of course I do. I'll plan something special. Have fun with your, what did you say you were doing?" I tease. What I wouldn't give to watch while she gets herself off...
She gives me a side-eye. "You're not going to trick me into video sex. Or phone sex. I'm going to take care of myself and sleep. You should too. Good night, Gabriel."
She hangs up, leaving me hard and wanting.
Wanting more of her.
# # #
The next morning, Riley calls shortly after ten in the morning. I'm in a meeting about trash contracts — possibly the most boring thing ever, but hell, it's lucrative — and I tell everyone in the room that I need to answer the phone.
Stepping into the hallway of the office, I tap on the cell screen. "Good morning, blondie."
"Gabriel." Her voice is shaky.
"Everything okay?"
"I'm fine," she says in a pointed voice. "But I need to know something."
"What's that?" I shove my other hand in my pocket and walk to the window, which overlooks downtown Tampa. It hasn't changed since I was a boy, and probably I could tell a story about every block.
"Did you... do something to Kyle?"
"Who's Kyle?"
She lets out a sigh. "The guy at my table last night. The editor who you told me to be careful of. He's in the newsroom today and has a black eye and what looks like a broken index finger. When I asked him about it, he said he was mugged last night. But he wouldn't look me in the eye, and has barely talked to me today, when last night he was talking my ear off."
"I see."
"Gabriel, I swear to God. What did you do? I mean, yeah, Kyle was annoying last night. I didn't tell you, but he got kind of creepy when he insisted on walking me to my car."
"Hunh." Fresh anger bubbles in my veins. She hadn't told me this during our call last night. Probably because she was ashamed, or trying not to make a big deal of it. Or maybe for women, it's just that common.
It was a big fucking deal, a boss coming on to his employee. I should've broken the fucker's legs.
"But just because he tried to sleep with me doesn't mean he deserved a beating. A finger he uses to type is broken and he's going to the hospital today."
"Shame."
There's a clicking and shuffling on the other end of the line, and she says something about walking out of the newsroom.
"Gabriel, I'm outside now so I can talk louder. Did you do anything to Kyle? Tell me right now." Her voice is clear and feisty, and a smile breaks free. I can imagine her standing with a furious look on her pretty face, flinging all that blonde hair over her shoulder.
I match her fury. "Didn't we talk about not asking questions you don't want to know the answers to? Have we had that conversation?"
I hear her inhale sharply. "I can't believe you. Are you really that evil, to hurt a man who came on to me?"
I'm not answering that on the phone. Or maybe ever. She knows the answer, regardless. All she must do is look deep within her heart.
"Babe, I'm going to text you an address. It's the executive airport, meet me there at six. We're taking the jet to Miami for dinner. Dress sexy for me."
I hang up and return to my meeting, knowing I did the right thing for Riley. If she doesn't want me, that's fine. I'll let her go peacefully.
But as long as we're doing whatever it is we're doing, I'll protect her with my fists.
More, if necessary.