BOUND TO A KILLER Page 3

  Adriana bites her lip to stop herself from smiling at the sweetness of this tough city kid. “Well, you can tell your friend thank you, from me, but I don’t date people I meet through work, no matter how charming.”

  “Another admirer, Adriana? We’re going to have to start selling tickets to see you. You could single-handedly raise enough money to open a new wing at the hospital!” Dr. Jameson looks David’s chart over and gives him a conspiratorial wink. With his bushy eyebrows and gray hair, he looks like everyone’s favorite granddaddy, but he also happens to be head of the emergency room and is smarter than anyone has the right to be.

  David’s blush remains firmly in place, and Adriana joins him in her embarrassment. She’s never been very good at taking a compliment. She’s been told that she is pretty, beautiful, hot, sexy by men—if she is being honest a lot of men—but she never knows how to respond. She’s never really believed it, so it is easy just to bat the attention away on the assumption that they are just trying to be kind or, in some instances, trying to get into her pants.

  “Nice work.” Jameson nods approvingly at the stitch-work on her patient’s knee. “We’re lucky to have you, Adriana.” With that he was gone, sweeping through the curtain and on to the next patient.

  “You’re good to go, David. So, now that you’re all patched up, do I get to know how you managed to cut yourself right down to the bone?” Adriana busies herself with clearing up the stitching kit as her patient hops down from the bed. When he stands up he’s almost the same height as her, making her feel even shorter than her five foot three inches.

  He blushes again, looking sheepish. She fixes him with an understanding look. “I promise not to tell anyone.”

  He smiles then, and his face lights up the room. “I was just trying to get this move down. I’ve seen ‘The Punisher’ do it a bunch of times, but it turns out it’s harder than it looks!” He scratches his head, as he looks down at his knee ruefully.

  “‘The Punisher?’” Adriana looks at the boy as if he were speaking a foreign language.

  He looks right back at her as if his estimation of her in his eyes has just plummeted about ten points. “The MMA fighter? He’s like totally the one to watch.” He nods meaningfully, clearly repeating something he’s heard someone else say. “My dad says he’s going to be the next big thing.”

  “MMA? Like cage fighting?” Adriana tries to make sense of what she’s being told. Cage fighting belongs in a world different to the one that she lives in. She’s never really been a fan of contact sports anyway. Her dad used to box and made sure to teach her what he knew so that she could defend herself in the big city, but she would never sit down to watch a match. She can already feel the lump start to form in her throat as she thinks of her dad, and she doesn’t have any plans to turn into a crying wreck in front of one of her patients.

  “Cage fighting, yeah, but totally professional.” The kid nods wisely. “It’s like, the best sport there is.”

  “Walk around, see how the knee feels,” Adriana instructs the boy, as she leans against the bed, suddenly feeling dog tired and wishing that she hadn’t agreed to go out with Willow. “So, why is this ‘Punisher’ the one to watch?”

  “He’s the best fighter there is out there, and my dad says he gets some seriously top shelf pussy!” David suddenly seems to realize that he’s not in the presence of one of his buddies and clamps his mouth shut, turning beetroot red. “Please don’t tell my dad I said that!”

  Adriana makes a mental note to have a chat with David’s noticeably absent father. He’d been curiously unconcerned when she’d called to let him know his son had been admitted into the ER. Between letting David watch a sport as violent as cage fighting and using that kind of language around a kid that hasn’t even reached puberty, it isn’t likely he’s going to be winning any awards for father of the year.

  But before she can say anything to that effect, David is pulling a flyer out of his backpack and stuffing it in her hand. “He’s totally awesome. You should check out his big fight; it’s next week.”

  Adriana looks down at the flyer in her hand and suddenly feels her stomach drop into her feet. It’s a publicity shot, so the lighting is a little dramatic. Plus, his face is partly in shadow, giving him an air of mystery. However, ‘The Punisher’ looks a whole lot like someone she used to know, someone she had fallen head over heels for—only to be left with nothing.

  “You alright?” David gives her a concerned look, as if he’s worried she might be having some kind of female moment his father has undoubtedly told him to avoid like the plague.

  Adriana nods her head slowly, like she’s trying to convince herself. It can’t be the same guy she knew. That was back in Philly, more than a lifetime ago. “Yes, just a little tired.” She smiles weakly at her young patient. “Take care of yourself and stop trying to imitate a professional fighter or you’ll end up with more than just a skinned knee! You’ve got a great personality. Girls go for that sort of thing.”

  The boy smiles at her sheepishly and hikes his backpack over his shoulder. “Stay cool, Nurse Garza and check out ‘The Punisher!’”

  As soon as he’s walked out the door, Adriana’s attention goes right back to the flyer. For once, she actually lets her mind drift back to a time ten years ago. She thinks about the boy that she has measured every guy since against.

  Grayson Fletcher, he’d been a troublemaker at school, kind of a rebel, but not one without cause. He had that injured look that Adriana recognizes now in some of the kids whom she sees who come in for recurring injuries consistent with abuse. His dad had beaten him and his mom up until Grayson had gotten too big to be pushed around anymore.

  Grayson had told her that story the first night they went out—if that’s what it could be called. They never really dated, not in the strict sense of the word; he helped her out once when some guys were trying to give her a hard time at school. She still remembers the insults they hurled at her just because she’d said no to dating one of them. Slut. Frigid bitch. Cock-tease. She’d wanted to point out to them that their insults were pretty much contradictory, but she’d been scared, scared in a way that she hadn’t experienced before, scared of what these three guys might do to her out of sight, in a dark alley where no one could hear or see them.

  Grayson had charged in like a white knight, and the boys had scattered without even thinking twice. He’d been tall and broad, commanding attention, and he’d had a reputation for being a bad boy.

  “Are you alright?” She can still remember the heat of his hand against her skin, as he touched her shoulder, bringing her back to the present. He’d walked her home that night, and that one night had become every night.

  He was two years older than her. He should already have been at college, but he’d been held back a year because he hardly ever turned up to class. He’d explained to her that school wasn’t really his thing; it was only his mom who insisted he graduate, which he was about to do. Every night during the walk home they would talk and talk, and Adriana would wish that the walk would never end. For weeks, nothing happened between them. He never touched her other than to steer her around a lamppost that she would probably have walked straight into if it weren’t for him, so blinded was she by the way he made her feel. But Adriana didn’t need him to touch her, she already knew that she was in love with him; there was no question in her mind.

  He’d been the first boy to tell her that she was beautiful and that she could do anything, be anyone. He was the one who had planted the seed in her mind to get out of Philly, to leave the old neighborhood and pursue her dreams, whatever they might be. In the short time they spent together, he had gotten to know her more than anyone. It was a feeling that she missed, that feeling of being totally and completely on the same page. She’d dated men since and no one compared, no one made her feel anything even close to the way that he had, and she’d grown to hate him for it. She hated him for ruining her for anyone else and for leaving her wanting, needing him.<
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  They’d shared exactly one kiss, and now, ten years later, it was still burned into her memory. He had held her face between his hands and kissed her so tenderly that she felt like she might cry. It was the best kiss she’d ever had before or since. When they’d finally said goodnight, he had looked at her as if he were desperate to say something more, but he held back, afraid of something. She had the feeling that something wasn’t quite right, that something had changed, but her knees were so weak from the kiss that she wasn’t really thinking straight. She should have asked him how he felt about her, if he was alright, if there was something he wanted to tell her. But the only thing that came to her mind was her own desperate need to see him again, to be near him again, to kiss him again.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Months later she would obsess over the desperate way she had asked the question, wondering if that was the reason things had gone so wrong. She had overanalyzed that night so many times, it was hard to remember what was real and what she had just wanted to believe. But there was one thing that she was sure of…he hadn’t answered her question. He’d just smiled at her, a little sadly, and walked away from her. She hadn’t seen him again. He hadn’t even turned up to his own graduation.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  GRAYSON

  Boredom isn’t an emotion that most men would feel in a club like this, surrounded by hot women and pumping music. But that’s exactly how Grayson feels. The place has a great vibe, but it’s no different from any number of other clubs he’s been in a hundred times before. The girls that have flooded their part of the VIP area are the typical hangers-on; bottle blondes with tight little gym-honed, surgically-enhanced bodies.

  One particular blonde had been hanging around him all night, making any excuse to touch him, letting her hand linger with the promise of more. Her lips are oversized with that collagen-pumped look, but there was no denying she was cute.

  “That girl is eye-ball fucking you like there’s no tomorrow, man.” Tommy’s voice in his ear is a little slurred, as he nods towards the blonde on the other side of the couch. He has a girl draped over him like a bad suit, and the other guys are similarly engaged.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint.” Grayson stands up slowly, motioning for the girl to follow him. What was her name? She’d told him earlier. Stacie? Candy? It didn’t really matter.

  “That’s my man!” Tommy nods in approval, as Grayson leads the blonde to a cordoned off section of the VIP area. It’s empty and dark and perfect for what he’s planning.

  He settles himself on the white leather couch and the bimbo takes a seat beside him, sitting so close she’s almost on top of him. “So, what are we doing back here, G?” She bats her eyelashes at him coquettishly, as her manicured hands start stroking from his chest down over his abs. She almost purrs as her hand skims his muscular torso.

  “What do you want to do?” He looks at her with one eyebrow raised.

  “How about you take me back to your place, and I’ll show you exactly what I want to do with you?” She flips her hair, looking at him with eyes full of lust.

  She wants him badly; it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. But Grayson has no intention of taking her home; it’s something he avoids whenever possible. It’s always too much of a hassle to kick them out the next morning. They always give him that expectant look, like they’re waiting for him to ask them to stay, as if he hadn’t made it clear that it was just a one-night thing. It always makes him feel like a jerk, but he also always manages to reason with himself that he has never made these girls any promises, whatever they have expected to happen is on them.

  “Maybe some other time.” Grayson moves to get up, but she pushes him gently back onto the couch.

  “Hey baby, don’t be that way. You know how I feel about you, Grayson.” She looks at him with intent, as she maneuvers herself to sit on top of him.

  Her skirt has ridden up enough for him to see the little black panties she’s wearing. He feels a stirring in his groin, as she moves her ass over his lap. As he gets harder, she smiles knowingly at him, proud that she’s had this effect on him. He doesn’t want to spoil her buzz by telling her that getting him hard isn’t exactly mission impossible, especially when it’s been a couple of weeks since he last got laid. He’s been so focused on training for the fight, everything else has gone on the back burner, even sex.

  “You like that, baby? You like what Tammy does to you?” She paws at him through his pants, feeling his hardening shaft.

  Tammy, that’s what her name was! At least he didn’t have to make it up anymore. “What else you got, Tammy?” He looks at her with that lop-sided grin of his that he knows from experience sends women a little crazy.

  She smiles at him, looking around her to make sure no one can see them and giggles naughtily. “You’re a bad boy, G.” She rubs her body along his, as she slides down to the floor kneeling between his legs. But she’s not kidding anyone. He knows that this isn’t her first time giving a guy head in a public place; it’s written all over her face. As she unzips him and reaches into his pants to take hold of his shaft, she positions herself expertly so that they’re blocked from the view of any prying gazes.

  Her eyes go wide as she sees how big he is. It’s a reaction he’s used to. She looks a little uncertain, but the way that she licks her lips and wriggles her ass tells him that she’s on board.

  “Such a big boy.” She looks up at him to make sure he’s watching her as she dips her head down to take him into her mouth.

  Grayson watches, as she goes to work on him, licking, sucking, and teasing his cock. She’s good; she knows how to work his shaft as she suckles on his tip like a popsicle. She moans, as he raises his hips slightly, inviting her to take even more of him into her mouth. He puts his hand on her head, guiding her as she bobs up and down on his cock. It doesn’t take long before he feels the tingling sensation in his balls, and he knows he’s close.

  “I’m gonna come.” He gets the words out through gritted teeth, and Tammy pulls back, releasing his cock from her mouth and working his shaft with her hands as he spurts his load.

  It had been quick, but it had been what he needed. He takes a few deep breaths, laying his head back, eyes closed, trying to bask a little in the after-effect of his orgasm. He can hear Tammy rifling through her bag, probably looking for some Kleenex to clean herself off.

  “So are we going back to your place or what? I’ve never been to a pro-fighter’s home.” Tammy’s nasal voice pierces through his peace and reminds him that there’s no way he’s taking her home. He knows her type, she isn’t interested in him, she is interested in the status that comes with fucking a quasi-celebrity. His name is about to explode on the MMA scene, and that means there are more and more wannabes trying to take what they can from him. He can spot a taker a mile away, he just has to compare them to his dad.

  Tammy would probably be disappointed if she sees his house anyway; it isn’t anywhere near as flashy as she is imagining. Most of his money goes to paying off an old debt, and another chunk goes to help out his mom and his sister, who he is supporting through college. What is left he spends on trying to forget—be that fast cars, women, or whatever he needs to fill that gaping hole inside of him.

  He opens his eyes and looks down at her, still kneeling between his legs. He tucks himself back in and zips up his pants—suddenly feeling disgusted at what he’s just done. It’s sordid and seedy; he’s used her as glorified masturbation. She doesn’t mean anything to him; she’s only a means to an end.

  “Not tonight, Tammy. I’ve got training early in the morning.” He smiles winningly at her, trying to take the sting out of his brush-off.

  “I just had your dick in my mouth, Grayson, and you’re not even going to ask for my number?” She looks at him in shock, as if he’s broken some unwritten rule.

  “You don’t want my number, Tammy. Trust me, you don’t want to get involved with a guy like me.” It is probably the only true thing that h
e has said to her all night. “Tommy, on the other hand, he’s a good guy.” Grayson nods towards his friend who is reveling in all the attention he’s getting. “How about you go buy him a birthday drink?” He peels off a hundred dollar bill and holds it out to her.

  She only hesitates for a moment before taking it and stuffing it into her cleavage. “I’m not a whore, you know. You don’t gotta pay me for the blow job.” She stands up, adjusting her tiny dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

  He could point out that she doesn’t seem to have any problem with taking the cash, but what would be the point? He’s treated her like she’s there purely for his pleasure. The least he can do is buy her a drink and encourage her to transfer her attention onto Tommy, someone who will appreciate it at the very least.

  Grayson doesn’t respond. In truth, he’s already put her out of his mind. All he wants to do now is to get out of here. His gaze travels over the dance-floor below him, filled with bodies moving to the heavy hip-hop beat. But there’s one body in particular that catches his attention; a girl with long, dark, curly hair that shines like silk under the lights. He can only see her back, but there’s no escaping the fact that she’s got a killer body, a petite little hourglass that just begs you to touch her. The way she dances is fluid and effortlessly sexy, but completely natural. She’s not putting on a show for anyone, unlike most of the other girls in this place who are looking around to see who’s looking at them. He gets a little hypnotized by the way her dark hair sways as she moves. She reminds him of someone, someone long gone.