Wheels. I'm as choosy about wheels as women these days. Wasn't always that way. While I can drive pretty much anything with an engine, I've found I only truly enjoy that thunder beneath the hood. The rush when pedal meets floor, beating through every bone in my body. Something only the raw horsepower of a V8 delivers. And if it's a dependable American hunk with a short shift ratio and high-quality tires, all the better.

My demanding criteria explained why, an hour after pushing Meredith's one-doored Honda under a bridge, and calling Blake to arrange for it to be towed, we found ourselves in a showroom on the outskirts of the city, ogling a used 2014 Chevy Camaro SS. The 1LE upgrade beneath its two-tone pearlescent paint job offered best bang for the buck compared to the higher priced, if slightly faster, competition on display. Zero to sixty in four-point-five seconds was plenty enough in a streetcar. Plus, I'm a sucker for Recaro seats.

The spacious dealership was the second one we hit after hiking hand-in-hand from the mall construction site. The greaser in the first joint tried to convince me a Porsche was better than my Mustang. Idiot had obviously never tried to jump one off a viaduct onto a moving train or he'd have known the Porsche would disintegrate. Not that I was intending to recreate that stunt, but with what I'd been through the last few hours, preparation pays.

I glanced down by my sneakers at the holdalls stuffed with the ill-gotten gains from my jobs over the past three years working for Monroe. Walking around with it was risky; spending it, perhaps moreso. For all I knew it could be traceable, but needs must.

Meredith cooed her way around the showroom at all the steel on display then returned to my side, flicking her brunette locks, hands resting on her curvy hips. If it was meant to be provocative, it worked. "Are you serious about getting this?" She tipped her chin at the car and I nodded, throwing her a wink. A low whistle escaped lips that my momma would have rightly said spelled trouble. "Pricey. When you said we were gonna get a new car, I thought you meant, y'know…"

I stared at her for a moment, then hissed, "I'm not a fucking criminal."

She shot me and the holdalls a look as the dealer politely coughed on his approach; an affable guy in his fifties who probably wouldn't see sixty unless he laid off the burgers.

"You like this one, Sir? An excellent model. Only eighteen thousand miles young."

I looked at Meredith, raised my brows. Her eyes glimmered in the spotlights, all kinds of want registering behind them. I nodded. "We'll take it."

He clapped his hands. "Then step this way and we can cross them t's."

"I'd like to drive it away right now."

He stopped, consternation creasing his pudgy forehead. "Sorry, that's not possible. We don't carry stock license plat-"

"Cash." I reached to unzip the left-hand holdall. "How about twenty-seven?"

He paused. It was way under the asking price and I could sense him doing the commission math in his head. I pulled out a couple stacks of bills and riffled through them. His smile widened.

"I'm sure we could come to an arrangement, Mr…"

"Carlton. Tobias Carlton," I finished. Had to use my real name for the registration documents. I reached for his sweaty hand and shook it, pressing the two bundles into his other palm. "And that's for your trouble."

He stared down at the notes, mouth agape. I prayed we could conclude the deal before he collapsed from excitement.

-- o --

For a heavier car, the performance of the Chevy was every bit as good as my Mustang. At the first opportunity I looped it off the highway onto a dusty track and floored it, kicking gravel and dirt in its wake. The engine roared like ten thousand angry wasps trapped under the hood as my grin was forced back into the plush Recaros. The symphony was almost deafening in the cheap cabin, its interior lacking the finesse of my Ford. No way the sound system would be heard over the noise of the Camaro's engine, but who needs a stereo when you have a V8?

The overall experience may have been enhanced by Meredith's reaction. I'd almost forgotten that she'd only witnessed the thrill of the Mustang locked in the trunk the night before, and this machine was an entirely different class of beast to her shattered Honda. When I spun the wheel, tires crunching against the gravel, and monotube rear dampers performing admirably, she laughed, squirmed in her seat and grasped the dash during subsequent handbrake turns.

As I powered it up the straight, her hand snaked across to my lap, caressing the bulge through my jeans that grew appreciatively. Each time she stroked, I dabbed the accelerator and pushed it higher, nudging eighty. Every few mph seemed to add more sparkle to her features until she reached over with both hands, unsnapped my fly, extracted my cock and bent over the console to suck it.

Controlling a high-performance vehicle at speed to outrun cops was one thing. Driving fast with a brown-eyed beauty intent on sucking me inside out was something else entirely. I always suspected women would be the death of me, just not so soon. I had to slow a little for fear of spinning us into early graves, but her enthusiasm remained steadfast. Thank fuck I didn't need the stick shift, nestled between her buoyant tits under that vanilla blouse.

She took my burgeoning hardness entirely into her fiery mouth and treated me to the second first-class blowjob of my day, tongue swirling all kinds of magic around the bulbous head. I was fully hard in less than the zero-to-sixty time of her last car. She knew her way around a cock, that much was damn sure, interspersing her mouth work with jacking my shaft as she nibbled the head, hair tickling my groin. I split my concentration fifty-fifty. Well, maybe sixty-forty when she deep-throated me. I'm only human.

I swelled beneath her touches and licks, the intensity of her actions increasing as she felt my excitement transferred to the steel stuffed in her mouth. The sensation of her head bobbing up and down in my lap was exhilarating, tongue dancing a tango around my girth; leading with slutty, following with fluttery. Both extremes were a delight and each time she drew back, the airstream rushing in through the open window played over the wetness she'd deposited along my shaft, making me shiver.

On more than one occasion I drifted onto the verge, wheels losing grip in the loose stones, and had to jerk the vehicle to correct our trajectory. Meredith remained on course throughout and I could feel her smiling, even before she slyly looked up at me, a mischievous spark in her demeanor.

As she plummeted to take every inch, a small part of my brain told me self-preservation was paramount and I should stop her or the car. Every other area of my body urged her on. Wouldn't let considerable danger interrupt considerable pleasure. I know living on the edge is a weakness deep in my core. It's what got me into the mess I was trying to scramble out of. The deadly cocktail of risks in my day job and incurable addiction to dangerous women was a potent combination I knew I had to overcome. Just… not today.

Meredith, it seemed, was trying to surpass some previous personal best. She slurped and sucked wetly, my fat cock head hammering the entrance to her narrow throat on each down stroke. She coughed a little but, all credit, never stopped. I gritted my teeth and hung on to keep us straight and alive, squeezing my eyes shut as few times as possible, trying to delay the inevitable, to amplify each delirious moment as my vision swam and resolve crumbled.

Every lick and throat-filled suck edged me closer to painting her mouth with come until my grip on the steering wheel was not only to keep the Chevy under control. I felt warmth rise as my balls surged and, accompanied by a roar that rivaled the engine, pumped my hot load into her eager orifice. The white droplets that spilled from the corners of her lips weren't wasted as she savored every thick rope, keeping me and the slippery white webs entombed throughout my release, before slowly withdrawing.

I slewed the car to a stop in a screeching three-sixty, panting as she pulled away with a satisfied grin on her face and swallowed, bringing up a fingertip to explore her lips and ensure she'd captured it all. I stared through the windshield at the shimmering haze above the road ahead, before tucking my withering cock back into my jeans and shaking my head.

"Crazy."

"But good?"

"Out of this world."

She beamed. "So the car's a keeper?"

"Until the Mustang's repaired."

"Then what?"

I shrugged. "Sell it?"

Meredith looked ashen. Her all-American twang surfaced. "Easy come, easy go, huh?"

"Something like that."

There was relative quiet in the car, only the shrill, incessant chirps of cicadas that braved the mid-morning heat filtering the interior. She looked away.

"How about you give it to me?"

I barely believed the question. "I don't think so."

She whirled. "Why not? You totaled my Honda."

I stared at her, incredulous. Had the blowjob been another of her ruses to get what she wanted? I wished I could read her better – read all women better – but I'd known her less than a day. "Let me remind you of some facts." I counted on my fingers for effect. "One: the only reason you're here at all is because I can't take out Monroe alone. Two: the only reason it's you and not someone else I trust more is because I have the video I made of you and your," I indicated in the direction of her short denim skirt, beneath which I recalled she was wearing no panties. "Three: you owe me for putting my daughter's life in danger. All the blowjobs in the world won't help me feel any less charitable while that's hanging over me."

"It wasn't meant… I didn't do it for..."

She tailed off and I let the silence hang a moment in the heat. "Look, if this all goes to plan, we can talk then."

She huffed. "Fine. I just thought we were getting somewhere."

It was my turn to look away at the irregular skyline of the high-rise city blocks beyond the still trees. "We were. Are. I don't know. I just need to focus. My family comes first. Trust me, Monroe isn't the kind of guy who takes being ripped off lightly and we're both in his crosshairs." I turned to face her, the sunlight reflected from the wing mirror catching her freckled cheeks. "Listen, I like you, Meredith. You're…"

She gave a wry smile at my pause. "Older?"

"I was going to say fun. Challenging. Sexy. Let's just deal with what we have facing us right now and go from there. Okay?"

Her eyes kept mine for a long moment. "Sure. So what's the plan?"

I was hoping she wouldn't ask. Not because I didn't want to tell her, but because I didn’t honestly know. Whatever it was had to be fast. Since Monroe had lost tabs on us, his next logical move was to go for Sadie as leverage. He knew her elementary school. Knew where she and my ex lived upstate. So I had to somehow appear on his radar to divert his attention back on me before he upped the stakes further.

The obvious place was at his club. Hot young honeys on stage. Office out back where he conducted business. Heavies by all doors, no doubt primed of my fugitive status. Cameras everywhere. I probably wouldn't make it through the parking lot without taking a bullet if I showed up unprepared. Needed leverage of my own.

But what did I have? A bunch of stolen diamonds. A shitload of cash I'd rather keep. A double-crossing MILF, and a fast car. I doubted even MacGyver could make something out of that.

I cast my mind back to the diamond job less than twelve hours earlier, hunting for some element I'd missed that would gain me the upper hand. That was where it had all gone wrong. The safe. Meredith. The chase from the cops in the rain. The motel. The youngsters on the jewelry store security cam. Making the video of Meredith's masturbation. Sex. Sleep. Her sneaky exit with my stash.

Wait. Back up.

The grainy footage on the hard drive in the side pocket of my holdall. The antics of the sixteen-year-old and her boyfriend, clothed, carnal and carefree in the storeroom. The girl that Meredith's performance misled me to believe was her daughter.

Something scratched at the edges of my brain, infuriatingly out of reach every time I delved to grasp it. Something wrong with the way Meredith reacted when she first laid eyes on the video. Another of the details I probably should have picked up earlier.

It clicked. "Who's the girl?"

"What?"

"The cheerleader on the security tape."

Meredith kept my gaze, flicked her eyes left then back. "I don't know."

I didn't need a degree in female psychology for that one. Used a firmer tone: "Tell me."

She looked away.

"Meredith!" I gripped her arm. "Please. You know her don't you?"

Her gaze fell to my handhold. Stayed there, unwavering. Eventually, she breathed out through her teeth and gave a curt nod. "She goes to Eve's high school." Catching my raised eyebrow, she clarified. "My daughter might have fled home, but I'm still her mom. Know her friends."

Her eyes grew a faraway look. I removed my hand. "Go on."

She took a deep breath. "Her name's Taylor. She's a good kid-"

I snorted. "Aside from fucking her boyfriend at the request of a scumbag."

"I swear I didn't know he was going to use her. He just said I had to act like it was my daughter. Like we were a perfect family. I thought it'd be easy. Thought it'd be some random girl." She looked away again. Stared into the distance. "But seeing Taylor on the tape made me realize Monroe's reach. Almost like he'd used her to demonstrate how easily it could have been Eve. That's when I knew I had to do whatever it took to get away from you. Rip you off. Rip him off. Disappear. Somehow convince Eve to lay low…" she tailed off, deep in thought. "But you screwed that up when you practically knocked my door down this morning."

I listened, gears turning in my mind, a plan formulating. It wasn't much, but not much was better than nothing at all. I stepped out of the car, grabbed the laptop and jewelry store hard drive. Returning to the driver's seat, one leg inside the vehicle, I gunned the car engine, used the cigarette socket to power the drive, hooked it to the computer and booted up Tails.

When the cam footage loaded, I scrubbed to a particularly juicy section of the teenage tryst, letting the footage return to normal speed just after Taylor sank to her knees and began to eagerly blow her gangly boyfriend. He grew beneath her enthusiastic tongue work and she took her time engulfing as much as she could. Given his substantial girth, it looked an impossible mission, but she rose to the challenge with considerable aplomb before standing to roll her panties down and toss them aside.

Despite my recent blowjob, it was difficult not to get hard spooling the segment where she spun away from him, reached under her tiny skirt and reversed onto his massive cock. It was the looks on their faces as they adjusted to the sensations. Starting slow, her hands on top of his, groping her tits through the squad jersey, the combination of innocence and depravity on display was compelling viewing.

When they picked up the pace and Taylor's head tipped back so the overhead camera could see her angelic features clearly, the silent ecstasy etched on her face as they bucked and slammed together was so erotic I swelled in the confines of my jeans. Fortunately, the laptop body obscured my arousal.

Meredith was quiet beside me, as unable to avert her gaze as I was, but no doubt for different reasons. I let the recording play a little further, trying to keep my breathing and cock under control until the pair reached their explosive peaks joined at the hips. Pausing the video, I exported the scene. Maybe three or four minutes total. Compressed it.

"Phone."

I reached out my hand and Meredith fished for it. Hooking her device to the laptop, I transferred the content and handed it back, then shut off the computer gear and stowed it.

Climbing back in, I slammed the door and revved the engine hard. "We're going to pay Taylor a visit. Set it up."

-- o --

Winning over a teenager's trust is easy. After making calls to her mom, Meredith extracted the girl's location and we drove over to the leafy suburb. Turns out she was with her boyfriend, at a squat three-bed with blue pastel shutters and a bordered lawn in dire need of a cut. The wide concrete driveway was empty: mom and dad weren't home. If the security tape was anything to go by, I could sure guess what Taylor was up to.

Meredith went in armed with the footage on her phone, and came out with information.

"Monroe's guys approached her a few weeks ago. Offered two thousand. Gave her the key and code to the store. The date and time to be there followed. No other specifics other than lying that the cameras would be off. They were to have sex in the storeroom and leave. Easy money for a horny teenager."

Another cog clicked into place. "That explains the boyfriend's reluctance to enter the store. He wasn't in on it." I played things back in my head. "But to get the alarm code, Monroe must have had a second unit. A backup team in case I walked." I paused, then added, "Didn't occur to me that he'd need me out of the picture so bad." Anger bubbled inside once more at being so shortsighted. At being played. I sighed, letting the emotions recede so I could focus. "We need Taylor to go back in."

"No no. She won't do that. And I won't let you put her in harm's way."

"You got a better idea? I can't go. Nor can you, and time's against us. We can either plot something else to draw him out or use a trusted third party. She's perfect." Meredith didn't appear convinced and I tried the hard sell. "We only have to get her to feed Monroe some disinformation. Say she got it from your daughter after you let slip where the diamonds were. Like you were pissed because I took them back and made you deposit the glass instead. Clears your name."

I could almost hear her thinking, so I continued. "Let's say Taylor asks Monroe for more cash in exchange for the information. That's a good reason for meeting him, right? He wants the stones. He wants me. I've evaded his goons a bunch of times so far. He'll feel the need to intervene personally. Then we follow him and grab him."

Meredith chewed her lip. "She won't go for it and I don't like it. Can't we call him? Or get her to call him?"

I blew a long breath out the car window. "Maybe, but he's cautious. He's more likely to make a move if the information is delivered firsthand, and especially if he thinks there's the likelihood of nailing me in the process. Plus, he'll be swayed further if Taylor is… dressed appropriately." I paused, turned to her. "And if the tape isn't enough to make her do it, maybe we could offer, y'know, some paper incentive?"

-- o --

Bribing a teenager is even easier than winning her trust. Thirty minutes and a thousand dollars later, Taylor had been briefed. She wouldn't go without her boyfriend, Lance, so we drove them both towards Monroe's club, with the understanding he would stay with us when she went in.

It was cramped. Even though Meredith and I had ratcheted our seats forward, the Chevy's rear section was only suited for children or people you didn't like. Luckily, I didn't care much for Lance. If his monosyllabic replies were an indicator, the world already owed him a living.

Despite the temperature, he still wore the same beanie from the cam footage, so I presumed someone had glued it to his head as a college prank. He'd also fallen in a vat of cheap cologne that even the open windows found hard to shift. Lord only knew what she saw in him, besides the impressive equipment I'd already seen on the tape.

Taylor on the other hand really suited having her knees by her ears. Especially with her blonde hair tumbling over the front of her tight tube top and ultra short skirt. I tried real hard not to use the rearview mirror for anything other than keeping tabs on surrounding road users, but it was a struggle.

She was incredible. A little over half my age, but damn. Way cuter up close than even the security footage indicated, representing the quintessential teen, oozing with innocence and youthful sex appeal. I felt a sharp pang of remorse at having to put her through the next half hour, sending her directly into the lion's den, but swallowed it. Couldn't think of anything else in the time available.

We slowed a short distance from the club and I rolled into position; far enough away to appear inconspicuous, close enough to see the entrance through the chain-link fence that surrounded the lot. The place was nothing more than a bunch of cheap connected office spaces that Monroe had bought and knocked through to form one large area inside. No exterior signage denoted its nature, its reputation spread only by word of mouth.

I killed the engine, turning to Taylor, only just remembering to meet her eyes before she caught me roving the outline of her pussy lips beneath the delicate peach underwear.

"You got everything, right?"

She nodded and I pressed on.

"No deviation. Just demand payment, deliver the message and get out. We'll be waiting."

Another nod.

"Good."

Meredith rummaged in her purse. "Any shit, use this and run." She handed the teen a canister of pepper spray and smiled at my look. "What? You're not the only cautious person here."

The cheerleader took it with thanks. Somehow slotted it in her impossibly small shoulder bag, which already seemed to contain her phone, cash cards, house keys, our money, a spare pair of skimpy panties, make-up compact and lip balm. If all else failed in her chosen career path, she could pack vans for UPS.

Meredith popped the door, unfolded and slithered out of the car, letting Taylor step into the sunshine, all legs, her tan body glistening. If she was nervous, she didn't show it. We watched her strut across the road from the car in her pumps. Well, I watched her ass, barely concealed beneath the excuse for a skirt, and I'm sure Lance did too. Lucky bastard.

I held my breath as she reached the entrance to the lot. After a brief back-and-forth, the guard let her thread past the barrier and she strode diagonally towards the main building. The second set of heavies at the door allowed her in and I breathed out, drumming the wheel. It was a long shot. I still didn't like the plan, but it was all I had. Once we got Taylor back and were sure Monroe took the bait, Meredith and I would go grab him. Tie him up. Leave him there, tip off the cops, then run.

Almost as if she could read my mind, Meredith asked, "You think it'll work?"

I stared at the doorway Taylor had passed through. "It has to."

As the minutes on the dash clock ticked by, I picked at the microfiber on the steering wheel, staring at the club door, willing her to come out. We all did. The heat was stifling. I could feel a trickle running down my side beneath the T-shirt and longed for air con, but the engine was off. The only thing between us, the doorway to the club and the success of my half-assed plan was an expanse of concrete dotted with crappy sedans and a few muscle cars.

And the click of a gun hammer from just outside the car window, the cold circle of steel at my temple. Everything except my heart froze.

Accented English: "Out, fucko."

I raised my hands as far as I could in the cramped interior. Meredith and Lance followed suit. The hired thug pulled the Chevy door and stepped back to let me out, flicking the gun barrel impatiently.

I was pretty sure that was the international symbol for you're fucked.

-- o --

The music in the main area of the club was pounding. Even at this hour of the day, women gyrated provocatively from the elevated central dance floor, attending to businessmen in suits on early lunch breaks, sat at bug-eye level to the stage. The platform was lit with swirling colored lights that glittered off the scant clothing and shimmering skin of its temptresses.

The outer ring of the club was much darker, just enough light spilling from the stage and few strategically placed lamps to avoid lawsuits from clients tripping over the tables, chairs and plush sofas. We threaded past the furniture, as did exorbitant waitress service from girls showing more skin than those at a Playboy pool party.

I was numb to it all in some ways, but Meredith's eyes were wide. Especially when a lithe brunette barely older than Taylor swung from one of the poles and swayed her tight ass and baby doll down to an eager guy's face. The sparkling scrap of material in the tight cleft of her peach perfect butt barely classed as dental floss.

Clientele etiquette was enforced: no touching for fear of broken bones. The punter, millimeters from the girl's milky taut skin, was well briefed but clearly excited, hands twitching in his lap either side of a straining bulge as she twerked in his face and teasingly crawled away. Not before he'd laid a fistful of twenties between her five-inch heels and she'd scooped them up, mouthing her thanks. I'd often wondered how much of the tips the girls actually received after expenses.

We were marched beyond the bar where a twenty-something in not much more than a tasseled bikini and elaborate feathered hat was preparing cocktails. The far corner of the establishment to which we were headed housed the office. Shielded from the main club by two thick walls of lightly frosted glass, we filed in, the hired muscle bringing up the rear with his gun trained. I was shaking and hot but at least the place had air con.

Monroe sat at his solid wood desk beaming, his ludicrously expensive suit straining at the seams. Taylor stood to his side regarding the floor. She shrugged some kind of apology as we entered, and were lined up in front of the glass like a bunch of naughty school kids about to be reprimanded by the principal. A bald guy seemingly lacking a sense of humor stood to attention on the far side of the room, beefy hands crossed in front of his waist, gun and silencer gleaming from one, his finger curled around the trigger. Menacing and unmoving.

"Well well, Mr. Carlton. You're a hard man to catch."

"Not hard enough, it seems."

Monroe chuckled. "Quite."

He tapped out a cigarette and lit it with a gold lighter from his jacket pocket, blowing a smoke ring. His asshole power trip. He took another deep drag, finger jewelry glinting in the smoky halogen spots above his desk as he pointed my way.

"You really think this pretty little ruse," he waved the back of his hand at Taylor like she was an irritating fly, "would draw me out? What were you gonna do? Tie me up? Call the cops?" I shuffled my feet and he chuckled again. "See, that's why you needed me behind you all these years. You lack imagination, Mr. Carlton, pure and simple. All that movie magic," he waved Jazz hands, "has bled your creativity."

He inhaled more smoke and blew a column of it out. "Shame really. I like you. Think it's the eyes thing. Makes you appear trustworthy. Loyal. Just not sharp enough to see that sending someone like her," he thumbed at Taylor who looked up momentarily, "to my place when she didn't know of its existence would be a problem."

Nothing but guilty silence filled the space between us. Monroe pointed his cigarette at me across the desk. "Exactly. Details, Mr. Carlton. Details. You of all people should know that's where the Devil lies, cock primed, laughing his ass off at those who pay him no heed. Details like a man with one green eye and one brown going into a dealership a few hours ago flashing cash around on a muscle car. Distinctive, no?"

I seethed, a combination of anger and fear boiling my veins. Knew I should have worn shades. Knew it wasn't going to end well, but was powerless to change anything. "What can I say, Monroe. You got me."

"Yeah," he chortled once more. "And you brought Meredith and this lanky fuckwit too." I witnessed Taylor bristle and shot her a glare that she seemed to interpret correctly. "But you know, while we're all here, let's talk about something more pressing." His expression clouded instantly, as if someone had switched the channel in his head to late-night HBO. "Like my fucking diamonds."

"They're not yours," I spat back.

He gave a brief smile that was somehow laced with menace. "See that's where you're wrong. You stole them at my request, so now they're mine."

I met his glare. "I'll tell you where they are. Just let everyone else go. Your beef's with me, and me alone."

Monroe took his stare from me for a moment, flicked it out beyond the room. His expression softened, the sneer returning.

To my right, the door opened spilling both the music and a big bouncer I knew as Rick into the room. He was carrying the two holdalls as if they contained vending machine cups, not nearly half a million dollars in cash, and my heart tanked. He dumped them in the center with a heavy thud. "Found these in the car, boss."

Monroe rubbed his hands together, nearly depleted cigarette between his teeth, grinning like a tubby Hannibal from the A-Team. "Of course you did. Because Mr. Carlton here is predictable and stupid." He looked at me and nodded at the bags. "Be a good dog and fetch my diamonds." As if to emphasize the point, he woofed.

Nothing I could do but comply. Out of options and facing certain death was hardly on my to-do list, so I delayed the inevitable by making my actions slow and deliberate. If nothing else, it tempered my racing mind, feebly trying to hatch a plan. I knelt to the bags and unzipped the pocket, stood and tossed the black pouch to him.

He unwrapped it. Studied one or two sparkling stones beneath the harsh light. "That's more like it, but I'll have them verified before we say goodbye. You're a real pain in my ass, Mr. Carlton." He nodded again at the bags. "I'll take the cash as compensation for the inconvenience you've caused me."

He under-armed the pouch to Rick by the door and the guy left wordlessly, momentarily allowing the beat of the club to blast in once more. I didn't recognize the tune.

As the door swung shut and returned the music to a repetitive dull thudding, I caught the sound of Taylor sniffing. Her make-up was smeared and she was shaking. Quiet sobs turned louder. Knowing Monroe's lack of compassion, I willed her to keep quiet but she wouldn't.

Monroe regarded her, taking in each supple curve on display, top to bottom and back. "Stop sniveling and grow up. You're playing in the big league now. Thought you kids were tougher."

"I'm s-s-scared." She sniffed some more.

"For God's sake. You got a tissue in there?"

She nodded. Caught my eye and flashed me a meaningful look through the tears as she reached for the clasp. It took a moment to register, but I got it. A surge of adrenaline. She was smarter than I'd given her credit.

I knew I had mere seconds to prepare. Glanced around. Just my eyes. Shifted onto my right foot, ready to run or dive or do whatever was necessary. Timing would be everything.

Watching her reach into the bag, rummaging, she came out with a tissue and blew her nose. Monroe seemed satisfied and turned back to face me. Then Taylor made her move. She dropped the tissue and unloaded the pepper spray it concealed in his direction. Monroe roared and clutched at his eyes, arms flailing. "Fucking bitch!"

The heavy to my left reflexively swung his arms up, training his gun on Taylor. I saw her jaw drop, probably as her short life flashed before her eyes, but I was ready, drove hard against the floor with my right foot and shoulder barged him. It was like hitting a stone pillar cemented to bedrock and my body complained as it jarred against his bulk, but it was just enough. The muzzle coughed and a spray of red erupted from Monroe's chest. Taylor screamed and dropped to her knees.

Meredith, a fraction later to figure the plan than me, reacted quick enough to deliver a solid upward kick to the balls of the guy who had marched us from the car. He went down groaning, the gun dropping and bouncing to my feet. I picked it up, unfamiliar in my hand, and swung it in what I hoped was a convincing arc to cover the solid guy by the far wall, still in shock at having shot his boss.

"Drop it."

He was slow to comply, small eyes staring me down, but ultimately let gravity take the pistol.

"Kick it this away." He did as instructed, the firearm skittering past me. I called over my shoulder. "Taylor, go. Now."

She scrambled up and yanked the door open, fleeing from the room into the music beyond, stumbling to remove her unsuitable footwear in the process. Lance followed without hesitation. Meredith bent to pick up the weapon.

I turned my head enough that my peripheral vision picked her out, one eye still on the bodyguard. "You know how to use that thing?"

As if in reply, she cocked it. "Daddy was a hunter. I'm good." She kicked the guy writhing on the floor in the chest once more for good measure then ran after the teenagers as I backed away.

"Nice and easy, yeah?" I said to the beefcake in a voice as strong as I could muster. "No heroics."

It sounded good, but I was a wreck inside. I could barely feel my heart it was beating so fast. Unlike Meredith, I'd never fired a gun. I was a stunt driver, not a merc. It was all bravado. Cojones. Stuff I'd seen in the movies I'd been in. I'd watched De Niro and Clooney and other big players trained in the art of how to handle a weapon on set. Shit like that rubs off, but it still felt weird actually doing it. The gun was cold in my hands, much heavier than I expected. I didn't even know if the safety was off. Prayed the guy it was pointed at didn't either.

Step by step, eyes locked on the man across the room, I backed up further until I felt the door behind me and reversed through it. He'd need a visit to rent-a-boss, that much was clear: Monroe was frothing at the mouth, rasping for breath, a look of shock playing across his puffy features as he pressed at the leaking bullet hole, his fingers stained red. Clearly, dying hadn't been on his to-do list either. His head lolled in my direction, droopy lids heaving open fully, venom behind them, before swinging shut like the door.

I didn't dwell on the vision. Turned and tore through the club, almost trying to dodge each thumping beat, scouting past tables and punters, barely registering the toned flesh on stage, gyrating oblivious to the bloodshed in the office.

The sunlight blinded me as I crashed from the building. The two heavies guarding the entrance were rolling on the floor, one with a crimson hole in his leg, the other clutching his privates. Reminded me never to get on the wrong side of Meredith, running ahead of me with the kids. I gave chase, checking behind to see if we were being pursued. I skidded to a halt.

Shit.

"Meredith!"

She stopped and whirled. I rummaged in my pocket. "Take the car, get them safe. I'll meet you at yours." I threw the keys and she caught them one-handed.

"What are you doing?"

"The money!" I yelled.

She nodded. Tailed the teenagers as I turned and started to pace back to the club, then stopped, common sense prevailing. No fucking way I should go back in, even with a gun I didn't know how to use. I had no clue how many bodyguards Monroe employed in total. I scanned the parking lot instead, looking for… no idea what. Tire iron? DeLorean with a flux capacitor?

My darting eyes skipped over a few midrange sedans and zeroed in on something else, an idea sparking. The heaviest thing in the vicinity besides the guy I'd barged in the office. Pure muscle. I looked at the building, then back at the car. It might just work, like it had on the set of Race or Revenge. I ran for Monroe's Dodge Charger SRT-8. All black. All beautiful. All mine.

One thing I knew about Monroe was the size of his ego. That's the trouble with power: the complacency it brings along for the ride. With Monroe, it was almost to the point of blasé. Who leaves a Dodge Charger outside, not only unlocked but with the keys in it? Only someone with untold power who could bring untold retribution to the doorstep of any thief. The one thing he didn't bank on: being dead.

I dumped the gun on the passenger seat and cranked the ignition. The engine roared to life and I revved it hard, watching the needle spike and swell in sync. It was raw. Needed a tune-up, but still fucking delicious.

With no idea how long I had before the big guy retooled and came for vengeance, or the cops showed up, I yanked on the seatbelt, clipped it in, revved again, shoved the big car in gear and stamped my foot down, the tires spinning for grip and finding it almost immediately on the dry concrete.

I angled the vehicle away from the building, arcing in a lazy hoop, picking up speed the whole time through the turn, listening to the tires increase their squealing in protest. They were angry, but were high performance and delivered. A lighter car would have been on two wheels or its roof by the halfway point, but not the Dodge. It let me circle fully until I was facing the corner of the building, straightening, hurtling towards where the office lay, the whine of the supercharger echoing across the lot over the thunder of the engine.

All of a sudden it didn't seem like such a good plan, but I was committed. No sensible alternative. Bricks and mortar versus nearly two tons of steel. It was going to be a tough fight, but I had to remain confident. Slid low in the seat. Prayed too late the office wasn’t reinforced. Gripped tight. Braced for impact.

The first thing they teach when learning to handle a car is to stay alert, no matter what. Fractions of a second count. That solid advice allowed me to dab the brake a mere moment before the car met the wall, dipping the nose as it sliced into the building like a missile amid a rending of metal, glass and smashing brick and breezeblock.

I ducked instinctively and lost vision as the airbag deployed, cushioning and billowing around my face, the powder momentarily stinging my cheeks and eyes. But it did its job. As did the car. Despite the spider-webbed windshield and dented paneling, the speed had allowed it to pierce the shell of the building and pile into Monroe's desk, sending splinters of wood scattering among the rest of the damaged exterior that had been dragged inside. The car juddered to a halt, two-thirds of it inside the building, engine still growling despite the crumpled fender and hood; a testament to its build quality.

I waited a few seconds for the debris to settle and heaved on the battered door, sweeping mortar and bricks away with it as I stepped out. The hole the car had made was sizeable. MacGyver would have been proud. The beefy bodyguard was gone, but half of Monroe was under the wheels, radiator fluid trickling around his lifeless torso. I felt no remorse. Paced over to the bulky holdalls covered in dust and hauled them with me, heading for the homemade exit and freedom.

I stopped. Had a thought. Went back to Monroe and patted down his jacket pockets. Found what I wanted. With his keys, I unlocked the steel cabinet in the far corner. Blue lights winked sporadically from the security recorder. Yanking the cables from the hard drive, I stuffed the device in the holdall alongside the one from the jewelry store and retreated.

Back at the car door, I leaned in. With his handkerchief I wiped down the gun, steering wheel, ignition and handles. Then I flicked the cap of Monroe's lighter, watching the flame dance for a second above the 'M' insignia before bringing it to the corner of the handkerchief and tossing the material into the driver's seat. It felt vaguely satisfying, even though it was a beautiful automobile. The state it was in, it'd never be the same again so I rationalized I was putting it out of its misery. Plus, it was another reminder of Monroe's grip over my life erased.

I pocketed the lighter and watched the orange flickering for a few moments before grabbing the bags and ducking through the hole the car had made, feeling the heat behind me as the seats fully ignited. By the time I'd brandished the gun at the sentry to secure my escape and hotwired an ancient Cadillac in the nearby street, the smoke alarms were blaring. People in various states of undress were pouring into the lot, blinking in the sunlight, and the distant wail of approaching sirens could be heard.

U-turning in the quiet access road, I spotted flames licking the edges of the building. Within minutes it was going to be a whole heap of a mess to sort out, but I didn't care.

I was free.

-- o --

I parked the Caddy a few streets away from Meredith's, wiped it down and hiked with the bags to my Mustang, still parked a little way up her street. I dumped the holdalls in the trunk and slid into the reassuring Recaros, sinking low. It felt like home.

The Chevy hadn't returned, but the house Lance lived in was the other side of town so I settled for the wait. Flicked on the radio and found some station playing Easy Listening that wasn't too soulless. Let the music wash over me, drifting my eyes shut, exhausted from the last half day of adrenaline spikes. Elated to be alive.

Next thing I knew was a bang on the window and I jolted upright. Saw her outside, weary yet smiling and still radiant. I wiped my mouth, shut off the music and climbed out. "Hi."

"Mission accomplished?"

I nodded. "You might hear reports about an inferno and some car-shaped hole in the side of the building, but I couldn’t possibly comment."

She smiled. Shifted from foot to foot. "Crazy morning. Dunno about you, but I need a drink."

I looked up at the nearby houses, a few neighbors tending to their front yards, braving the heat. "And a shower."

She spun and sashayed ahead of me, calling over her shoulder. "You comin'?"

I blipped the car and followed her ass up the street, past the Chevy in the drive, up the porch steps and across the threshold without the screen door.

She fixed us both JD and coke and we stood across from one another in the kitchen, the central console once more a barrier, just like earlier over coffee. Same silence. I let the whiskey slip down my throat, warming me, taking the edge off. She watched my every step as I crossed the room to rinse the glass and turned to her.

"Can I clean up?"

She nodded. "Down the hall, second right."

"Thanks."

If the whiskey felt good, the water felt better. I let the steam envelop me, allowing the needles of water to lance my aching shoulders. The impact of the building was already taking its toll and was going to smart, but in my line of work I was used to it. Couple of throbbing days then it'd be gone. Nothing painkillers couldn't handle.

I lifted my chin and let the water cascade off my face and pour to the drain. It felt terrific to be free of Monroe. A weight off my chest. I could finally plan. Move on. Be part of Sadie's life again. Sell up. Get away from this place that had turned me into a shell of my former self. Maybe regain some of the humanity I'd lost.

There was shampoo and shower gel in the corner of the stall. Herbal shit, but it lathered. Was midway through applying it when the door to the shower opened and she stepped in behind me.

"Allow me."

I felt her hands on my body, slick above the suds. She slid north over my sore muscles and I groaned as she massaged out the knots and kinks with firm pressure. I felt her squirt more cool gel on my back and spread it around. Then she pressed her naked body against mine, ample chest and womanly padding molding into my back in a slippery hug. Her hand slid to my chest, tracing the contour of my pecs. Then lower over my sculpted abdomen. Lower still until her soapy hand found my rising staff.

"What have we here, Mr. Toby Carlton? You seem pleased about something."

I groaned again as her hand encased my cock and slithered up and down, making me rapidly reach full hardness. She applied more soap. Teased my length and the shiny flared head.

"Need to make sure this part is especially clean."

"Why? You're so dirty, Meredith. It'll only need cleaning again after."

She sighed in my ear and caressed my shaft. "I'm not that kind of woman."

Her fingertips walked across my bobbing erection some more and I nuzzled against her curves. "Yes you are."

I let her stroke me some more before breaking free, turning and finding her luscious lips, warm and inviting. We kissed softly, then harder, tongues dueling as my hands traced her figure, ending below her firm ass, which I gave a squeeze.

Trailing my lips down from hers, I crossed her collarbone to the slope of her wonderful chest that rose and fell in rhythm with her deep breathing, placing kisses and licks on each incline. I worked my way in concentric and deliberately slow circles, gliding from breast to glorious breast, her breathy moans my guide. Ending at the summit, I teased her crinkled nipples until they were fully hard and she was urging me on with one hand curled into the nape of my neck.

Kissing further, all the way down, over the slight hump of her sexy belly, I sank to my knees, the water cascading off my chin from various angles as I drew level with her tangle of dark pubic hair, parted her lips and dove into her delectable wetness.

Both her hands gripped the back of my head as I probed my tongue, tasting her silky texture. Her excitement. A few times the water tried to drown me, but I pressed on. In. Exploring deeper, eliciting sighs and moans above me as my nose pressed her firming clit.

When I pulled back and trailed my tongue an inch or two north to circle her pleasure button, she held tight. Slung one leg over my shoulder to give me better access and let me lap at her pussy and clit like there was no tomorrow. Truth was, I didn't know what the future held. There might not be a tomorrow with her in it, so I seized the moment. Seized everything, grabbing her ass, pulling her to me as she ground against my face and used me to bring herself off, tousled locks of hair plastered against the shower screen.

Like a true addict, I couldn't get enough. Lost myself between her legs, driven by her raspy groans and sharp intakes of breath. I allowed her delicious essence to drizzle onto my tongue, rinsed away by the hot water, only to be replaced with more, tangier and more viscous with every trace I coaxed from her writhing body.

As I was beginning to learn, Meredith's orgasms were fast and hard. Under my continued assault of her jewel, she stiffened and cried out in the tiny stall, clutching my head to her pubic area as the waves crashed through her body. I swear I could almost feel each swell, like revving a performance engine, rivulets of delicious, sweet nectar oozing onto my outstretched tongue with every contraction.

Her taste was something special. Beyond just the physical, it was like she was surrendering part of herself too. My ego said it was my technique, honed from years of burying myself in women like her after Naomi left, but it was probably more than that. The added thrill of being with a guy ten years her junior? Her first man in months? I had no idea, but whatever it was, part of me yet again didn't want it to end. Never wanted it to end.

Sliding her leg off my shoulder, I supported its journey all the way down my bicep and brought her supple thigh to rest on my hip as I stood and nudged her entrance with my throbbing dick. With her knee crooked around my body and foot pressing the rear of my pelvis, she backed her groin off a fraction, then rolled forward and I sank inside. Meredith groaned as I penetrated her fully, paused as she adjusted to the intrusion, then started rocking.

I picked up her rhythm, gliding in and out of her soaked channel, grasping her curvy hips and pulling us together. Her arms snaked around my neck and our lips and tongues crushed together as we bucked beneath the spray, chest to chest. My hands roamed south to support her wonderfully firm derriere and I held tight, our bodies grinding together, desperate sighs and groans clashing in our mouths, dulled by the steam.

She hopped her other foot up and I shared her full weight with the fogged glass panel as she wrapped both legs around me. Our lips separated, her body rising and falling as she bounced, my girth splitting her wetness easily and repetitively. I found myself level with her heaving breasts and took turns sucking each of her puckered nipples nestled in the darker rings of pigment.

Meredith seemed to respond especially well to my teeth tugging and nipping the proud caps of her glorious tits, her groans intensifying and back arching, so just her shoulder blades and hips touched the shower screen. She thrust her chest towards my welcoming mouth and I nuzzled and alternately bit each hard nipple as she cried out.

Our movements ramped up further, from simple rocking and bouncing to full-on fucking, her hands flinging over her head, palms against the glass as she gave herself to me. No half measures, no holding back, she demanded everything I could deliver, her experience at knowing exactly what she needed guiding us both.

I used my hands beneath her shapely ass to raise and lower her hips, slamming into her body, feeling every ripple of her insides glide along the fat head of my cock as it repeatedly traveled the extent of her dripping cunt. Her groans reached a crescendo and I felt her quake as my teeth clamped onto her left nipple and she froze and wailed, her insides pulsing around my length buried deep.

Her climax triggered mine. The incredible feeling of her wet skin and wanton openness resulted in a rush unlike anything I'd felt in a long time. Better even than the night before in the motel. Better than fucking her ass in the kitchen. I felt… connected. Part of something. Lucky, maybe, as my balls tightened and I began to fill her needy channel with hot come, firing jet after jet inside her spasming pussy.

I didn't know such feelings existed any more in me. All the broads I'd had during my darker days had been exciting for sure. But they were just sex. An addiction. Business, almost. A way to drown out the pain of losing the one person I'd convinced myself had been my only shot at happiness. Yet here I was, years after Naomi's exit, Monroe's obligation finally over, inside this incredible woman and enjoying it. Actually loving every moment deeply in my core, the age difference inconsequential. Wanting more. Craving more.

I released her distended nipple and kissed it, feeling her body reanimate, listening to her moans becoming deep rasps that echoed off the glass. Trailing my lips from breast to breast, her mewing continued above me as her unrelenting orgasm wracked her quivering frame, her mind transported to places I could only imagine. I let her travel.

My pulsing abated long before hers. Longer still before her wrists dropped to my shoulders, fingers curling into my wavy black hair. I remained hard inside her, my tongue lapping her wet skin, the forgotten shower water that streamed against my back re-registering with my senses, spray bouncing off my shoulders and dappling her magnificent chest.

We remained joined for a short while, bodies aglow until she unwrapped her legs and I pulled out, setting her down delicately in the shower stall. A trail of sticky white oozed down her leg, ultimately spiraling to the drain. She flashed me a weak grin and my lips found hers, the kiss genuine and affectionate, hands lazily tracing the contours of our bodies.

Picking up the shower gel, I squirted her chest and we soaped each other again, enjoying the slick feeling against our skin, basking in the lazy afterglow of wild sex. By the time she shut the water off we were both rosy from a combination of the exertion and heat.

I admired her grace as she stepped from the stall to pad across the small bathroom and wrap her curved beauty in a towel before she threw one to me, watching me the whole time I patted myself dry. Words didn't seem necessary.

When done, I scooped up my pile of clothes and headed for the door. Meredith stepped in the way, coiling a lock of damp hair around one finger. "Do you have to leave?"

"What, ever?"

She smiled. "No, silly. Now."

I found her eyes. "I think I have time. Why?"

She bit her lip. "You look shattered. My room's across the hall if you wanted to rest. But we'd have to… share the bed."

Her sudden bashfulness was cute. I eyed her a long moment, mesmerized by her raw splendor in the steam-filled bathroom. "If I fall asleep are you going to rob me again?"

She shoved me playfully. "Not if you give me the Chevy."

I shook my head and laughed. "Better settlement than your divorce, right?"

"Way better. Whaddya say?"

I laughed again. Loved her cheeky little smile. The hope shining in her eyes. I breathed out. "Okay, keep it."

"Yes!" She hugged me tightly, head against my chest. "But you gotta show me how to drive it like you do."

I stroked her hair, watching droplets of water soaking into the towel edge. "You like the hard drive, huh?"

"Love it."

"I'll see what I can do."

She tilted her head up and kissed me. It was tender. Heartfelt. "Thank you."

"Be warned. My services aren't cheap."

"I'd expect nothing less from the best. Is uhhh…" she stepped away from me, let the towel drop and gave a twirl. "Is this acceptable currency?"

I nodded slowly, a lump catching in my throat. "That's a pretty good start. But I already have most of that on tape."

Meredith raised an eyebrow, eyes sparkling like the diamonds that had led me to her. "Oh that's nothing. Keep it." She stepped in once more, fresh and fragrant, slid up on tiptoes to press her chest against mine and whispered, "I'm sure we can make videos way better than that."

She turned, yanked the door open and bounded across the corridor, stopping at the entrance opposite to throw me a coy look over her shoulder and crook her finger to beckon me.

I eyed her voluptuous figure. Sexy and real in its imperfections. From hair that spilled across her upper back, leading to the chicane that curved out to her full and inviting ass, and down her trim thighs between which nestled so much enjoyment. So much possibility. In many ways, the Taylors of the world couldn't hold a candle to the naked beauty ahead of me, confident and comfortable in her own skin. No pretense. No make-up. No fake tan, false eyelashes or manicured eyebrows. A woman who knew exactly what she wanted and was prepared to take it.

Present and future and past all blurred in my mind. No end. No beginning. Just now.

I let my towel drop and she smiled as I paced forward to the bedroom, scooping her up amid a giggling shriek and carrying her to the mattress, dumping her unceremoniously into its center.

Meredith slithered up to rest her tangled brunette tresses against the pillow and I stood eyeing her full nakedness from the foot of the bed. She drew her knees to a peak and slowly began to part them, her sticky centerpiece revealed moment by moment until her legs lay open in a diamond shape against the lemon duvet.

She trailed fingertips across her stomach to her breasts and cupped them. "How about I make a down-payment on the first driving lesson?"

Our eyes met, I climbed onto the bed and crawled low towards her.

Fuck it, I'm only human.