Malo: An Age Gap Romance

A few hours later, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the cash is nowhere to be seen. It’s lost, well and truly lost, and I know there’s only one place it can be: with that crazy bitch who stole it from me. But instead of just taking it and running, like she probably should have, she was… what, luring me with it? For what reason? I don’t have a clue, but the wrath I’ll face from Beast isn’t worth ignoring her invitation.

I look up the place, somewhere outside the city in the suburbs, and climb onto my bike to shoot out of town. If I’m quick, I can be in and out of there in an afternoon, put as much distance between myself and this girl as I can. And when I give her a piece of my mind, I’m sure she’s not going to forget it. If she thinks she can get away with fucking with me, she’s got a whole heap of hell coming.

Something is nagging at the back of my mind as I ride, though. This isn’t normal behavior, not from the club girls. She’s something else. I’m not sure exactly what yet, but I can’t wrap my head around it. Maybe I’m just still bleary from the booze and the drugs, but I have a bad feeling about her.

And yet, there’s a part of me that wants to see her again. Being with her last night, shit, it had been seriously hot. I’ve been with plenty of girls in my time, but there was something about her, about the look in her eyes when she came for me, that had burned itself into my brain. I want her. Badly. But I’m not going to let that get in the way of doing what needs to be done. She needs to be taken in hand if she thinks she can just pull this petty shit on the Kings. She has no idea how much trouble she has just walked herself into.

The sun beats down on my back as I ride, letting the cool air wash off the last of my hangover. I want to have a clear head when I see her again. I know it was my addled mind that got me into this mess, and I’m not about to let myself make the same mistake again. I’ve never been the man who lets a woman get in his head, and I’m not about to start now. Not a chance in hell.

Eventually, I pull up outside the address that was listed in the envelop, and double-check to make sure I’ve got it right. The house is nice, really nice. It’s hard to believe that someone who lives here would have been hanging out at a bar like the Deadman’s Hand. What exactly is this girl’s deal? I need to get to the bottom of this. I need to find out what’s going on with her.

I climb off the bike, putting down the kickstand and peering around to make sure there’s nobody looking to cause trouble—there could be a reason she’s invited me out here, brought me to the middle of the suburbs to launch an attack. But there’s nothing I can see that looks out of place. I roll my shoulders back, telling myself I need to stop with this paranoid shit before it gets the best of me.

I make my way toward the door and lift my hand, rapping against the wood. Ready for anything that might be waiting for me on the other side.

And ready to do anything I need to do to get my money back.

CHAPTER 8

MARIA

Islowly make my way around the house, hardly able to believe how realistic they’ve made it look.

This place… it could pass for my home, no problem. I mean, my PhD is even on the wall! There are pictures of my father and me scattered through the house, framed, taken from my social media. Well, some of them. Some of them I know must have come from my father’s home, and I try not to let that thought linger in my mind any longer than it needs to.

I received a call from Rayo last night, giving me instructions to bring the member of the Kings I made contact with out to this address in the suburbs. I didn’t know why they were moving me from the dingy room I’d been locked up in all this time, but I didn’t much care to find out, either. Any reason that would get me out of that place, I would take it.

I left a note at the bar for the guy I’d been with last night. Malo, that’s what the bartender called him, and had to hope he was going to come looking for the cash I’d taken from him last night. I have no idea why he’s walking around with that much money on him, what exactly it might be payment for, but I get the feeling he’ll do anything he can to get it back.

Rayo’s men picked me up earlier this morning and drove me out to this beautiful house in the suburbs that’s been made to look as though it’s my actual home. And, honestly, they’ve done a good job. I wouldn’t have thought twice if I had visited a friend at a place like this. It looks totally believable, and I know that’s exactly how they want it.

It’s so scary to me to know how much time and effort they have put in to making this place pass as a real home. Scary to know how easy it’s been for them to infiltrate my life so completely, find out enough about me that they can make a place that looks as though I actually belong in it. They’ve taken so much from me, but this… this invasion of my privacy and my identity, might be the hardest one to take yet.

I don’t know how long they expect me to stay here, or what exactly they want me to get out of this Malo guy when he arrives. I’ve been trying to ask more questions, trying to get a few more answers as to what’s going on here, but nobody seems willing to talk to me, and that freaks the hell out of me. They want me in the dark about all of this, stuck and unable to do anything other than play by their rules, and they’ll do anything it takes to keep it like that.

I need to know this place like it’s my home by the time Malo gets here, and I’m not sure how much longer I have. I mean, he was pretty out of it last night, and surely he’s going to need some time to sober up first, isn’t he? But he got on that bike right after we fucked and drove off like it was nothing, so maybe it’s not exactly a concern of his. Shit, it’s so hard to navigate my new reality, I’m not even sure where to begin.

He’s going to be pissed, I’m sure of that. But how pissed? What’s he going to do to me? Last night, he seemed pretty open to the idea of being close to me, but that was when he thought he was the one calling the shots. When he realizes that he wasn’t as in-control as he’d thought he was, all of that might change, and I had to admit, I’m scared. I know the Ruthless Kings live up to their name, at least from everything I’ve heard about them, and I really don’t want to find out just how seriously they take their reputation. Not if I can help it.

I perch on the edge of the bed in the room that’s supposed to be my bedroom, staring at the closet. I can see it’s full of my clothes—my old clothes. Nothing like the ones I’ve been forced to wear while I’ve been parading around downtown, trying to get the attention of the kind of men I would have avoided at all costs in any other situation.

I put my head in my hands for a moment, trying to push down the enormity of everything going through my head. I can’t let it get to me. I’ve got to keep myself together, no matter how tempting it might be to let this panic set in.

I roll my shoulders back and rise to my feet, leafing through the clothes. If I can just keep my shit together, keep pushing forward, keep finding a way through this, I’ll make it to the other side. I’ll be back in the lab, back with my father, back doing what I’m actually passionate about, and all of this will be behind me, once and for all. It’ll be like a bad dream, so far removed from my real life I’ll hardly believe it could even have happened.

Suddenly, the sound of an engine draws me out of my thoughts, and I spring to my feet and hurry to the window. Sure enough, a man is drawing up outside the house, the same man from last night. He pulls off his helmet and shakes his curly, dark hair loose, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he scans the area around him.

Fuck, he looks pissed. Really pissed. Not that it should be a surprise to me, really. I stole from him, after all. But there’s nothing of that flirty, cocky, playful guy I’d hooked up with last night. No, this version of Malo is on a warpath, and I know I’m right in his way.

He strides toward the door and bangs on it hard, making me jump. I scramble to answer it, smoothing down my hair, trying to present at least a front that I have some idea of what I’m doing. I open the door slowly, a smile on my face, as though all of this has gone to plan.

“Hi, Malo,” I greet him, and he narrows his eyes at me.

“How do you know my name?” he demands.

“The bartender told me,” I shrug. “You got my note, then?”

“Yeah, I did,” he shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t seem as hammered as he did last night, which is a shame—that’s one of the few things that was going in my favor. Now I’m going to have to deal with him marginally clear-headed.