Justified

Author: P Hana

Page 5

   

“Kiss me,” I demand.

She does as she’s told, her small tongue touching my bottom lip, making my cock, which was already at half-mast from having her on my lap, rise completely. I hate that I can’t have her one more time before I must go out of town. I take over the kiss, sucking her tongue into my mouth and then nibbling on her lips before pulling away, kissing her gently one last time.

“Be safe on your trip. I love you,” she says quietly, pressing her soft lips to mine once more.

“Love you, Angel,” I tell her, sitting for a second longer, willing my erection to go down.

After moving her off my lap and opening the door to the limo, I get out, taking her hand in mine before walking her back across the street. Then I pull her into my arms one final time, breathing her in before opening the door to the bakery for her and watching her head inside. When I see her head towards the table where her friend is sitting, I take a moment to watch. The woman looks through the glass at me, and something about her triggers a memory I can’t place. She smiles, but I don’t return it, instead looking at Chloe, who waves. I lift my chin at her and head back across the street.

As soon as I’m seated inside the limo, I look at Ricket in the rearview mirror. “Call Bernard and tell him Chloe will be going out Saturday night and I want men on her while I’m out of town.”

“Will do, sir.” He nods.

“I also want to know how far along we are on getting her building condemned.”

“They’re still working on it, sir.”

“Tell them if they can get it done before I get home, I will add another half a million.”

“Will do, sir,” Ricket says.

I know he will do anything I ask of him. He has been with me since I was a teen, and he’s one of the few people I would trust with my life.

After going home and packing, I make it to the airport and wait in the limo, sending Maxine a quick message about her fuck-up before calling Chloe and making sure she got home okay.

“Hey, Angel.”

“Hey. Are you at the airport?” she asks.

I can hear the water turn on and the sound of her brushing her teeth. As crazy as it sounds, I’m pissed that I’m missing a small moment like that with her.

“Yes,” I say, looking out the window at my jet. “Are you in for the night?”

“Are you saying your men didn’t tell you I was home already?” she asks, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“I like hearing it for myself,” I state then let out a frustrated breath when my driver taps on the window. “Be good while I’m away. I will call you in the morning. Make sure you wait for Ricket to take you to work in the tomorrow.”

“I will. Don’t worry about me,” she says reassuringly.

“I will always worry about you when I’m not around to see to your care myself,” I tell her.

I hear her sharp inhalation of breath. She still has a hard time accepting that I want to take care of her, how much I love her and want what’s best for her. I’m sure my psychologist would have a field day if he knew what kind of shit I am thinking when it comes to Chloe. My feelings for her go above and beyond the realm of normal and into the categories of slightly crazy, obsessed, and extreme possession. The one thing I can say though is that at least I can admit it to myself, and if I’m being completely honest, I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about my feelings for her. She’s mine and has been from the first moment I saw her.

“I’ll call you in the morning, Angel.”

“Okay,” she says. I can hear her getting into bed, and I grit my teeth. “Night,” she whispers.

“Night, Angel,” I say, hanging up, grabbing my bag, and heading for the plane.

*

“I’m having a hard time believing you want my business,” Mr. Yakamora says, and it takes everything in me not to growl.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want your business,” I remind him again. Since I showed up in Tokyo, I have been hearing the same thing over and over. “I explained what happened with our meeting, apologized, and flew out here. My associates and I have been working this case since the beginning. If you feel another firm can do a better job, be my guest, but let me tell you, no firm in the world has the reputation we have. We’re known for winning cases, sir.” I sit back in my chair and loosen my tie.

He looks me over and sighs. “There is a lot of money on the line. We need to know you are completely involved.”

“I have proven to you and your company that you have me and my firm’s devotion. At this point, I do not know how else to demonstrate to you we are the best choice for you if you think you can get better representation somewhere else,” I say again.

Just as I’m about ready to say fuck it and walk, he turns to me, his eyes searching my face.

“How do you feel about sake?” he asks with a wide smile, changing the subject and catching me off guard.

“Fucking hate the shit,” I tell him, and he immediately begins to laugh as he comes towards me to pat my arm.

“You just haven’t had it in the right environment.”

I look around the club Mr. Yakamora’s men brought us to and sigh. When I was recently divorced—hell, even when I was married—I would have been happy to spend my business trip in a place like this. Great food, good company, and beautiful women at your beck and call. But as I sit here, all I can think about is Chloe. Tonight, she would be going to a bachelorette party, and I have to rely on other people to watch over her. I still can’t kick the strange feeling about the woman who was at the bakery with Chloe. I have no idea where I know her from, but something about her is familiar.

“You’re not enjoying yourself,” Mr. Yakamora observes, sitting down in the chair next to me and loosening his tie.

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Who is she?” he asks, calling a girl over with a wave of his fingers. When she’s within hearing distance, he asks her in Japanese for another bottle of sake then turns back towards me. “I know it’s a woman because only a woman can make a man look like he is somewhere else. I grew up hearing from my parents and grandparents that, when you find the woman you were meant for, your souls are always together, regardless of space or time.”

I let his words sink in and relax back into my chair.

“So tell me. Who is she?” he asks.

I feel my jaw grind. I do not talk about Chloe to anyone, and I do not enjoy feeling like I have to choose between my personal life and the respect I have for a client.

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