Free Brawler's Baby: An MMA Mob Romance (Mob City Book 1) by Holly Hart Page B

coast was clear. She’d made her escape.
    I didn't believe for a second that the two meat-headed Russian gangsters bashing against the closed and presumably empty door of room fifty-six would be able to push their way past me to check whether I was hiding Maya. The rational side of me knew it would be better just to not give them any cause for suspicion.
    Seeing her again, feeling her climax around my cock, and even the little conversation I'd allowed myself to engage in – it had all reminded me of why I'd fallen in love with her in the first place. It was like she'd awakened a long-suppressed addiction within me – and now that addiction needed feeding. Getting on her father's shit list by fucking with his halfwit henchmen would be the quickest way to get myself kicked out of Alexandria – hell, maybe even the whole state.
    That chump in the Octagon earlier this evening had barely got my fighting juices flowing before I finished him off. I was itching for a fight, and these guys would play their part admirably.
    But I couldn't do it. Not if I wanted to see her again.
    Satisfied that Maya had made her escape, I strode over toward the room's flimsy plywood door this, catching a glimpse of my wiry, muscular – and most of all, naked – frame in an aging full-length mirror. I grabbed an empty beer bottle from the discarded garbage bag next to it, adopted a half-drunk expression and pulled the door open.
    "Hey, lads," I called jauntily. "Can youse keep it down? It's been a hard day, you know?"
    The two idiots barely had the processing power of a 90s Pentium II between them. The scene in front of me was like a bad comedy skit – they both pulled their lumbering attention away from the door they were splintering their way through, looked at me, then at each other, then rushed toward me.
    "You will put clothes on." The right-most idiot ordered in a thick, barely intelligible Eastern European accent.
    "I'll do no such thing," I replied indignantly, pretending to sway with the ill-effects of over consumption, "I'm in my own room, so I am, and I'll wear what I want, so I will. Who are you to tell me what to do?"
    Sell it Conor.
    I tried to swing the door closed, fully aware that I had about as much chance of success as these guys would have in a fight with me. I was right – the lightweight wooden door crunched against the thick, meaty forearm of one of the Russian gangsters. I felt like I should give them nicknames – judging by their appearances they seemed like likely candidates for parental neglect, and it was entirely possible that no one had ever bothered to give them names in the first place.
    "Lads," I remonstrated, still playing the drunk Mick, "I asked you nicely once, don't make me ask again. I'm trying to get some kip, okay?"
    The gangster on the left didn't have ears. I mean, he technically had them, but they didn't look like any ears I'd ever seen… I decided to call him Cauliflower. Flower, for short.
    "Boss wants to see you," Flower grunted.
    "Seriously, what is it with you guys and prepositions?" I quipped.
    Flower looked at his friend – another barrel chested Russian. I decided I’d call him Pot because, well – with his thick chest and face reddened by years of drinking he looked like a flower pot. "Boss wants to see you," he repeated.
    "I don't have a boss," I said, holding a straight face as I noticed both Flower and Pot's greedy, piggy eyes staring at my stack of winnings. "Don't pay taxes, either. Hey – eyes up here!"
    Flower's eyes guiltily flickered back toward my eyes, though I couldn't help notice from the disgusted look on his face that he got a full, frank and accidental glance of my still uncovered manhood.
    "You will put clothes on!" He insisted, much more forcefully this time. "Then we see boss."
    I sat down on the bed, noticing some of Maya's long, dark hairs standing out against the cheap motel's vaguely white sheets. I hurriedly pulled the duvet up, hiding the evidence. As I did so,