Paying His Debt

  Paying His Debt

  Darcy Dawes

  Chapter One

  Freya

  Some people are doomed to be stereotypical, cookie-cutter characters who sound like they’ve been created by someone who doesn’t understand the nuance of human behavior. Like me: wide-eyed, shy, soft-spoken kindergarten teacher. Pale skin that doesn’t seem to tan, despite living in California. A virgin with very little experience in the bedroom department despite being fresh out of college.

  It always made me laugh, how generic I was. But I didn’t mind; so what if I was an innocent twenty-three-year-old who preferred taking extra shifts with the kids rather than risking her life (and her virginity) going on a date?

  Well, that is, until I did mind.

  I probably always minded a little, though. I got an uncomfortable, hot twisting feeling below my stomach when I caught my brother watching raunchy films, and I daydreamed about crushes during high school and college just like any other girl. But I was quiet. Reserved. Focused on other things. It was only after I had completed these things—graduated college, moved out of my parents’ house, got a job at a nice kindergarten in a good area—that I truly began to notice how empty my life actually was.

  My small group of high school friends had all moved away from California by the time I graduated college, and mom and dad both passed away three years ago. The only people in my life who were close to me now were the kids I taught and my older brother.

  But Tate had been uncontactable for five months now. I had no idea where he was. For all I knew he could be dead.

  “Miss Grace, are you sick?”

  I blinked several times, turning my head until I found the source of the small voice: Rafe Patera, grandson to the head of the Patera family.

  I smiled warmly, kneeling until I was level with him before ruffling his hair. “I’m fine, kiddo. You know I’m always this pale.”

  Rafe wasn’t convinced. He held a tiny, chubby hand up to my forehead; it was hot against my skin. Admittedly I was thinking about my brother’s potential death, and my expression had likely reflected that. The kid was sharp, I had to give him that.

  It was probably because of his family.

  Even I knew the Pateras were one of the wealthiest—and shadiest—families in California. Rafe’s father, Luca, and his uncle, Jackson, sometimes came to pick up the five-year-old. Rafe always preferred this to being picked up by his mother or his nanny. The two brothers were ‘cool’.

  Well, I supposed that’s how they looked to a little kid. To me they were pretty scary, so I tended to hide in the staff room when I knew they were coming over. To this day I’d spoken to Rafe’s father only once, and I had successfully avoided meeting his uncle whatsoever.

  So pathetic, I thought, disgusted by myself. Okay, so they were gangsters. Rich gangsters. Who could probably make me ‘disappear’ if I upset little Rafe. But they had never done anything unsightly or wrong at the kindergarten before. I personally had no reason to be anything but civil and friendly to them.

  Except that I was shy, and my imagination often spun out of control—see above—and I was used to not getting any attention. The Patera brothers were tall, and well-built, and impeccably dressed. They were intimidating to someone like me.

  At least Rafe wasn’t. He was adorable, and had a crush on a girl named Rose who like the piano. He was desperate to learn to play in order to impress her. Whenever he was here late—which was often—and I was working the late shift—which was even more often—I tried my best to help him out with what I remembered from my piano lessons growing up.

  “Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Grace?” Rafe asked, seemingly out of the blue and once more pulling myself out of my own, scatterbrained head.

  I couldn’t stop the blush from spreading across my cheeks as I stood up and laughed nervously. “Of course not, Rafe! Why do you ask?”

  “I thought you might know how I can make Rose my girlfriend. I guess not.”

  Burned by a kid. A new low.

  “You just have to respect her, Rafe,” I told him as I moved through to the staff room to pick up a cup of tea I’d had steeping for a few minutes. He followed me through, waiting patiently until I nabbed a cookie out of the cupboard for him, and one for me. Our little secret—on Friday evenings only. “And keep finding things you have in common. You both like dinosaurs, right?”

  Rafe nodded seriously. God, he was adorable.

  “So why don’t you see if she wants to help you with baking time on Monday? I think we have some dino-shaped cutters somewhere.”

  His eyes lit up as if my idea was the greatest one he’d ever heard. That was part of the reason I loved kids so much. They were uncomplicated. They liked what they liked, and merely appreciated you taking a genuine interest. They got excited about things without worrying if people would make fun of them. They were the complete opposite of me.

  “Rafe, your uncle’s here!” Louisa, the kindergarten manager, called out as she entered the staff room to join us. She raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Freya, Mister Patera wishes to discuss something with you.”

  My insides froze at the request. The last thing I wanted to do on a Friday at seven in the evening, barely an hour left until the end of my late shift, with my hair in disarray and my lilac shift dress covered in green and blue paint, was to talk to Jackson Patera. I’d gone too long being able to avoid ever having to meet the man—in just a few months Rafe would be starting elementary school and then I’d never have a reason to involve myself with the scariest family in the city.

  “Um, I’m not feeling too well, actually,” I replied. “Rafe will back me up on that. If it’s okay I’m going to head home early.”

  There was a pause, during which Rafe watched me with curious eyes. I’d only just informed him that I wasn’t sick, so was I lying then or lying now? But he was a child and, this time, I was blessedly glad I was an adult.

  “Okay doke, then,” Louisa eventually said, a frown of concern on her face. “Maybe if you got some sun once in a while you wouldn’t be so frail. You still okay to cover Tammy’s late shifts on Monday and Tuesday?”

  Ah, concerned about my health just so long as it doesn’t interfere with my ability to cover everyone’s shifts. If Louisa stopped to think about it for long enough she might have realized that my back-to-back shifts probably weren’t helping with my health, all things considered.

  Except I wasn’t sick. Not at all. I was just a coward.

  I flashed her a reassuring smile. “Of course, Louisa.” I glanced down at Rafe. “You have a good weekend, Mister, and no getting into trouble!”

  “I’ll draw Rose a stegosaurus—they’re her favorite!”

  With that wonderfully excited thought in mind, I grabbed my purse and slipped out the back exit, simply to avoid catching sight of Jackson Patera. The evening air was still warm, and the sun still had a couple hours left before it set below the horizon, but I was exhausted enough to call it a day.

  It wasn’t like I had anyone to hang out with, anyway. And I had some laundry I’d like to get done tonight so I could relax tomorrow. Maybe take a walk along the beach, or to the bookstore to buy something new to read.

  When my stomach grumbled I knew I had to sort out some food before trying to do anything else. Bringing out my cell phone, I ordered Chinese food to arrive at my apartment half an hour after I would.

  “Chinese ribs, sweet and sour chicken, a glass of wine and the T.V.,” I murmured as I fished around inside my bag for my keys. “I’m a middle-aged woman already.”

  Inside, my apartment was clean and tidy in a way that an apartment was when you were barely in it. My bedroom was messier, with a small pile of clothes rumpled on a chair, my laptop sitting open on my bed, and several
empty mugs of tea on the bedside table, but there was nothing offensive about it.

  I dumped my purse and cell phone alongside my laptop, sighing contentedly when I threw off my shoes and wiggled my toes. I had just enough time to wipe myself down in the shower, blast my hair with the hair dryer, and throw on a camisole top and tiny shorts that were both far too revealing for me to ever wear in public. But it was hot outside and I could barely afford my rent, let alone any air conditioning.

  Taking out a wine glass, I opened the fridge only to discover that I didn’t actually have any wine. “Damn it,” I muttered, sulking back through to my bedroom to check the closing time of my local corner store on my cell phone. I was surprised to see that I had several missed calls and voicemails from—

  My brother.

  My heart leapt. It really was a relief to have some kind of physical proof that he wasn’t dead or spirited away. I opened the first voicemail and balanced my phone against my shoulder and my ear, walking back through to the living room when I heard the doorbell ring.

  Thank god for food, I though, just as my stomach rumbled once more. I fiddled with the latch on the front door; it was far too close to being broken for my comfort, but I hadn’t had time to replace it yet.

  “Freya,” my brother’s voice said over the phone. He sounded uncharacteristically panicked and out-of-breath. “I don’t have much time. I’m so sorry for everything. But no matter what you do, don’t answer the door tonight. Please, don’t answer it for—”

  Too late, I thought, allowing my phone to drop to the carpet after I opened the door.

  And found Jackson Patera standing there.

  Chapter Two

  Jackson

  I’d had my eye on Freya Grace for a year. I’d caught sight of her on her first day on the job at my nephew’s kindergarten. Wide-eyed with long, glossy, dark hair. Impossibly pale with cheeks that easily flushed when she was running about after the kids. She had the kind of body I consequently spent countless hours dreaming about.

  Freya hid her figure under typically ‘appropriate’ clothes, of course. For a kindergarten teacher, that meant button-down dresses and cardigans and dark pantyhose. But I could see from the way she moved—when she reached up on a ladder to fix a light bulb, or when she bent down to pick up a child’s toy—that she had killer curves. I’d wanted to strike up a conversation immediately. And that’s when I found out.

  Freya Grace was painfully shy.

  I was fairly sure she was afraid of me and my brother—perhaps my whole family—though I knew that she doted on my nephew. Rafe never shut up about her, and how she was helping him win the love of his crush, Rose. As if the woman needed anything more going for her to attract me, she just had to be fantastic with kids.

  I’d tried on many occasions to talk to Freya when I went to pick up my nephew; each and every attempt had failed. Even when I tried to coax her into conversation over ‘official’ matters, she somehow resisted. We’d never even been face-to-face before. It had gotten to the point where I had to wonder if I’d somehow done something to her personally, though I knew I hadn’t.

  But now I had an excuse to worm my way into her life—and this time she wouldn’t get away.

  She had her brother to thank for that.

  I’d tried to speak to her when picking up Rafe because I didn’t want to scare her by going to her apartment, but after she avoided me once more I had no choice. To be honest I was glad I had to go to her home—I could be far more frank and honest there.

  And besides, my own interest in Freya had to come second to dealing with the problem of her brother. Being a Patera was a double-edged sword, as usual.

  Despite the serious nature of my visit, I found myself checking my reflection in the window of my car before getting out to knock of Freya’s door. Dark blonde hair perfectly swept back: check. Matching tie to my waistcoat (it was too hot to wear the full suit): check. My tan was darker than usual given that it was summer, which paired with my blonde hair when I was out of a suit caused people to often mistake me for a typical Californian surfer. I did enjoy surfing, truth be told. But ‘easy-going surfer’ and ‘eldest son of a mob boss’ didn’t exactly go hand-in-hand. Not if I had to remain intimidating.

  It was only after I’d exited my car and rung Freya’s doorbell that my stomach lurched. I didn’t want to frighten her. Okay, maybe I wanted to frighten her a little bit; I imagined that anxious face of hers staring directly at me with some satisfaction. There would be no looking away from me tonight—no giving excuses and running off.

  When Freya opened the door she clearly thought it was going to be someone else. She was on her cell phone, though she quickly dropped it when she saw who was waiting for her. From her phone I could hear a male voice shouting her name. Her brother, I assumed.

  Nice time to warn her after going into hiding for months, I thought, annoyed on Freya’s behalf. But then I saw her face and all thoughts of her phone were forgotten.

  Her green eyes were wide with surprise and—increasingly—foreboding. Freya’s usually impeccably long, sleek hair was a little fluffy, suggesting she’d just dried it. Her lips were parted as if she meant to speak but had forgotten how to.

  And then I noticed the rest of her, and the distinct lack of underwear that was apparent beneath her insubstantial clothes. If she’d ever dared to dress like that in front of me before then there’s no telling what I might have done. God, there was no telling what I’d do now.

  But business was business, and I had some to sort out before I could let my mind wander.

  I gave Freya an easy smile that belied my intentions. “Miss Grace. I have an urgent matter I need to speak with you about. Might I come in?”

  Freya’s mouth opened and closed, yet still no sound came out. She shook her head and, with shaking hands, tried to close her door. I kept it jammed open with a forearm.

  “This isn’t the kind of conversation you want to have with me on your doorstep,” I said, voice low and on the verge of being threatening. “Trust me. I won’t hurt you; just let me in.”

  She glanced at my arm in the doorway and gulped. She had slammed the door pretty hard against it; Freya was likely wondering how I hadn’t flinched and pulled away upon impact. She must have taken it as a sign that she definitely wouldn’t win against me in a fight—which she wouldn’t, of course—then, as slowly as she dared, Freya reopened the door and moved silently to the side, allowing me access into her apartment.

  The place was clean and tidy, though the furniture was clearly cheap and very, very old. The sofa was sagging even though nobody sat upon it; I had to wonder how Freya hadn’t ruined her back by using it.

  I’ll give her a reason to ruin her back, I thought filthily, allowing my mind to veer off-topic for a moment as I imagined crushing Freya beneath me on the trash heap-worthy sofa.

  “What do you—what do you want?” Freya stammered, voice barely audible. She was still standing by the door, arms clutched around herself protectively. Her cell phone lay on the floor, forgotten and silent. Clearly her brother had hung up.

  I waved her over and didn’t speak until she, reluctantly, obeyed my command and joined me in the living room.

  “Sit down,” I said, indicating toward the sofa.

  “I-I’d rather stand,” Freya replied, surprising me with a backbone I didn’t know she possessed. It only made me more attracted to her.

  I collapsed backwards onto the sofa, resisting the urge to wince when I sunk just a little lower than I expected to. “Well, suit yourself. Do you have any idea why I’m here? Considering who you were just on the phone to I’m assuming you do.”

  Freya glanced at the device in question then back at me. Well not quite at me. Slightly to the left of me. “I hadn’t heard from him in months. I thought he might be dead.”

  I laughed. “Clearly not. He certainly racked up one hell of a debt that no dead man could.”

  Freya’s gaze turned sad. “I thought he’d stopped gambling. I’
d hoped…”

  Oh, no. I wanted to comfort her, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to stick to my guns, as it were. This was serious Patera family business, after all.

  I stretched my arms about my head, allowing my neck to crack before cocking my head to one side to look at Freya, who was still not looking at me. “Your faith in your brother was clearly misplaced. He owes us close to twenty grand.” Freya’s mouth made a little O of surprise, which I was definitely thinking about in terms of what it could wrap around.

  “Twenty…twenty thousand dollars?” she murmured in disbelief. “How…”

  “Trust me, it’s easy to build up that much debt in an underground casino. Your charming brother Tate accrued it in a single night, in fact. And then he ran off. We’ve spent four months trying to track him down but to no avail.”

  I turned my entire body to face Freya. “And that’s where things get serious, Freya Grace. My family wants what’s owed to us. And if Tate continues to stay on the run then it falls to his next of kin to pay off his debt.”

  To my surprise, Freya didn’t look surprised at this. I supposed she figured out that was why I was here as soon as I mentioned her brother. She rubbed a hand up and down her arm, which moved her breasts in the process. Her nipples were stiff beneath the silk of her camisole despite the heat in the air—clearly she was more frightened that she was currently letting on.

  Of course, my dick was just as hard as her nipples were, but I had the advantage of dark suit pants covering up my physical reaction.

  When Freya realized where my gaze had wandered she pulled up both of her arms to cover herself; on instinct I grabbed one of her wrists to stop her doing so. She let out a small yelp of shock.

  “L-let me go!” she protested, squirming beneath my iron grip to no avail. It only turned me on more, seeing her disheveled and scantily dressed and demanding that I leave her be. It was completely different to the way she was in the kindergarten.

  “Not until you give me the money your brother owes,” I replied, an easy smile still plastered to my face. I pulled Freya closer to me until one of my knees wedged its way between her legs. Any closer and she’d feel the length of my erection against her skin.