18 Chapter 18

Soloman sat back in his leather chair, staring at the exact spot that she had stripped off her clothes and stood gloriously naked in front of him. His eyes moved from that spot to the edge of his desk where she had come for him, responding even more beautifully than he could have hoped for. But she had left. Despite knowing he would be back for her.

Rage burned in him. He glanced down at his phone. She had yet to respond to any one of his calls or text messages. He had first tried calling her over an hour ago, after the fire had been brought under control. He knew the moment he reentered the club and realized that Cilia was missing that Riley would also be gone.

His fist crashed into the desk. Fuck. He just wanted to know that she was safe. He was done playing her fucking games. He picked up the glass of whiskey and downed the contents before slamming it back down. He had men waiting for her at the shop, her condo and her mother's place. So far, she had shown up to none of her usual haunts. He even had Roman swing by Katie's parents' place and then over to Wendell's place. No one had seen her and now an irate Wendell was out searching for her as well, also worried that something had happened to his boss and friend. Soloman wanted to tell the asshole to mind his own fucking business. He probably would have followed it up with his fists except the man was happily married with two children.

Soloman was damn concerned and that made him fucking angry. What if she was hurt? What if someone had set the fire to distract him so they could grab Riley. He hadn't been easy or subtle in his pursuit of the woman. Fuck, he wanted the entire damn city to know who she belonged to. He didn't want any other motherfuckers sniffing around during his pursuit of the beautiful mechanic. But he had enemies that could make use of a weakness. He didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to have a go at him or anyone close to him, but he was beginning to realize Riley meant enough to him that he couldn't be casual in his assumptions.

Just the fact that she wasn't texting him back was killing him. He wanted to put his fist through the wall and whip her ass red until she understood her place. She would not be allowed to misstep like this again. Once he had eyes on her, he was locking her down. She'd have bodyguards at all times. She belonged to him and she was about to learn what that meant.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Glancing down, he saw an unknown number flash on the screen. Something told him it was her. He had no idea why he would make such an assumption, because he would ordinarily never take a call from an unknown number. But he knew Riley well enough to know that she was careful. She would assume he would trace her regular number and she would be right. He'd put a tracker on her phone the moment he found out who Riley Bancroft really was.

"Riley." His voice was like a whip when he spoke.

He listened to her breath for a moment and then she said his name, "Soloman." It was the sweetest thing she could have said to him. The word was like a ribbon of silk wrapping around his cock. He could see her lips forming each syllable. While rage still ran hot in his veins, relief eased the tight band of worry around his chest.

"Where are you?" he demanded, trying with difficulty to temper the anger in his voice so she might give up a location. His girl was smarter than that.

She laughed huskily. "I don't think so. You have this nasty habit of collecting me and forcing me to go places I don't want to be."

He gritted his teeth and breathed hard through his nose, picturing the ways in which he would punish her when he got his hands on her. "Tell me you're safe."

She didn't speak for a moment as though she were taking in his words and wondering what to do with them. Finally, she whispered, "I'm safe."

"I want you to come to me right fucking now, woman," he growled into the phone, fisting his hand on top of the desk. His knuckles popped from the pressure, his tattoo standing out stark against his skin. He willed his stubborn woman to listen to him, knowing she wouldn't. She had gone to ground and wouldn't show herself until she was good and ready. Or made a mistake.

She laughed, her husky voice wrapping warmly around him. "Well that's very convincing. You know, I can barely sit down, asshole? Why the fuck would I come crawling back to you? So you can spank me some more, or worse?"

He stuck a fresh cigarillo between his lips and lit it, wishing it were a cigarette. The woman was wearing him down and pissing him off. "If you come to me now, I'll forgive your trespasses and we'll start clean. No punishments this time. We do things in your time," he lied.

"I think that's the first time you've said something to me I didn't believe," she said coldly, her voice revealing a hint of betrayal. She was upset at him for lying to her. He didn't know if he should be fucking livid that this little girl was getting under his skin so much or pleased as shit that she was beginning to read him so well.

He sighed. "You're right, Riley. I'm going to beat the shit out of you the first chance I get my hands on you. But I promise, I'll make you learn to crave my every touch, even the ones that hurt."

She gasped so loud his dick twitched in response. "I'm good where I am, actually. Thanks, but no thanks. You can keep your oh-so-tempting offer."

"Not an offer, little girl. This is a promise," he growled into the phone, sitting up straight in his chair and blowing out a stream of smoke. "Soon as I get my hands on you, you will be coming home with me. No more dancing around. I'm fucking keeping you, Riley Bancroft."

Her breath caught and he could envision her teeth sinking into her plump lip as she worried over his words. Her breath came out in a rush and she said, "I'm not your damn plaything, Soloman. You don't get to fucking decide shit like that. I have a life!"

"You forget about Cilia's little transgression in my club this evening. Should I have my man go collect her?" he asked, taking another long smoke. It disgusted him to use such a low threat, but he wanted to bring Riley to him. The more expedient the better.

"Go ahead," she replied, supremely unconcerned.

He understood right away and chuckled at her cleverness. He should have realized what she had been busy doing for the past hour. "You sent her into hiding, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," she said scathingly, showing him she wasn't as unconcerned as she'd sounded a second ago. "How could I possibly leave my mother unprotected when someone like you is willing to use her to get to me?"

He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his short hair. Finally, he admitted, "I wouldn't have done it, Riley. I wouldn't have actually hurt your mother because it would have hurt you. I needed something to bring you under control. You've been denying me at every turn. I don't know any way to play but dirty."

She didn't say anything for a moment and he wondered what she was thinking. He could hear rustling, like she was laying down on a bed. Then she whispered, "Even if you didn't intend to, you did hurt me by using my mom."

Her confession was so unexpected it felt like a punch in the gut. He wasn't used to feeling things like this. His mother had died when he was two and his dad had been a brutal man. An underground boxer, caught up in illegal fighting and gambling until one of his debts finally ended both his career and his life. Any kind of tenderness Soloman had once known had died with his mom. Yet this woman was drawing emotions other than sexual from him. He didn't understand how it was possible.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Jus... just don't do it again."

He pressed his knuckles into his eye and thought for a moment. Could he give her this promise and be truthful? He was a cruel bastard. He was willing to do just about anything to get what he wanted. But truthfully, he couldn't picture himself hurting the mother of his woman.

He nodded his head. "Yes, you have my word. I won't touch Cilia again."

"Thank you," Riley said softly, her voice tired.

"You need sleep, woman," he stated, stubbing his cigarillo out in an ashtray he kept in a drawer. "If you won't come to me, then at least stay safe where you are until I can flush you out of hiding and back under my influence."

She laughed, the sweet sound wrapping around his body causing his muscles to tighten in response. "I still have things to do before you drag me off to your lair. I'm not going to make it easy for you to find me, Soloman," she said with a yawn.

"I don't think you know the meaning of the word easy," he growled.

"That's not what my high school boyfriend said," she giggled.

He slammed his fist against the side of the desk, angry despite knowing she was just making a silly joke. "You just signed his death warrant," he snarled.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry Soloman, that was a stupid thing to say! Please don't kill anyone!" she begged.

He groaned into the phone and gave her all the ammunition she would need to bring him to his knees. "I don't think you get how fucking on edge you make me. I spend half my time wanting to beat the shit out of anyone that looks at you, which is every damn guy with eyes, and the other half nearly coming in my pants just from hearing your voice. You're ruining me, gorgeous."

She didn't say anything for a moment. He could hear her breathing lightly and rustling around. Then she said quietly, "I'm going to bed now. Sweet dreams, Soloman."

He stared at the phone after she hung up on him. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. Fuck, it sounded good coming from her lips. He still badly wanted to get his hands on her, but now he was picturing her curled on her side in a bed somewhere, sleeping safely, waiting for him to find her.