Read Porter's Reward :: Touching the Iceberg

I opened my mouth with questions, but he suddenly leaned over me. Delving his hand under my seat, so deeply that his cheek nearly pressed against my knee cap. Hovering less than an inch above it. I thought he might turn my head and try to see up my skirt, but he didn't. He continued looking at the dash while he gripped something and pulled it out.

I'd shifted my knee away from him and watched stunned as he pulled out a giant bit of elastic attached to a springy, circular, frame.

He shifted and climbed out of the car.

I followed his lead and got out. Watching him in confusion as he locked it and pocketed the keys before tossing open a broad ring and catching it under the front of his car before unfolding it over the hood and roof, before pulling it down the back. Completely shielding the car.

"What is this?"

"Car cover." He said dismissively. Turning away from it. "Less tempting to do something shitty to it when it's covered."

I guessed that was likely true.

He aimed toward the front doors and I followed.

"They won't let me in." I said worriedly.

"They will."

How can he be so confident.

We got to the door and he unhooked the heavy red rope and walked through, waving me in.

There were whoops and hollers and people shouting his name as he took the clipboard and assumed the place at the door.

He began scribbling on the board.

The other man went in.

Porter waved the first couple forward. Scanned the list and waved them away.

I was shocked at how firmly he told them 'nope' and indicated they should go.

Nothing like the meek guy I thought he was.

They hesitated. The guy was clearly angry, his face nearly purple.

But they left.

I hovered behind him. Between his wide shoulders and the door. Leaning forward enough to whisper near his back. "Aren't you worried about ending up in a fight."

"Hoping." He murmured without ever looking up from that clipboard.

I reared back. I must've heard him wrong.

He waved people in, and they wove around me and went in the door. He sorted through the crowd while I patiently waited behind him. Wanting to discuss more about whether he was going to help me or not, but not wanting to distract him from what he was doing in-case something went wrong.

He needs his full attention.

And, to be honest, it was smoking hot watching him take control and make commanding decisions that made people's night or sent them off in tears.

After about an hour another guy showed up and Porter handed him the clipboard. Turning around he caught my upper arm and rotated me with him. Opening the door and holding it above my head so I could go in first.

The hint of a gentleman?

"I'm not really dressed to be in here." I looked around a bit nervously. Having never been in this club before.

"No. You're a bit overdressed." He agreed. "You could certainly take some off if it'd make you feel more comfortable?"

I tossed him a quick look. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Now?" He looked down at me.

"Yes?"

"Yes." He said decisively. Looking over the crowd as he added, "Hard."

I glanced at him, mouth agape.

"What?"

"You're so ballsy!"

"You've no idea."

"Did you have something to drink?" I blurted. Blinking wide eyes.

"Not a drop." He glanced at me again. "I don't drink."

"Who are you?"

"You keep saying that."

"You're not acting like you."

"You've no idea who I am."

"I think I'm learning."

"You've barely touched the iceberg, Love."

I believed him.

He moved us to the far corner where he tucked me into a booth before sitting across from me.

"It's quieter over here." I said appreciatively.

He gave me a thoughtful look. "It keeps my back covered and gives me the best view of the club."

"There were dancers on a few stages, writhing to the music under neon lights."

On a higher pedestal was a guy that was jerking smoothly in a white jacket and pants, reflecting the light in blinding brightness.

"Why am I here, Porter?" I gave him a long study. Though he was looking past me.

Clearly very serious about his job.

"Because you chose to follow me."

"I am not as greedy as you think." I tried to explain. Shifting uncomfortably as I began to have some reservations about asking him for money now.

Before I'd thought he'd never have the gumption to tell me 'no.' Now I found myself looking at him thinking that there was likely perilously little this guy said 'yes' to.

"You don't know what I think, Angel. You've certainly never asked. And as a case in point, I don't think you're greedy."

"It's not just about the money."

"No. It's about your mother." His gaze landed on me.

I knew my brown eyes went so wide, I probably looked like someone had shot me in the butt with a taser. It's kind of what I feel like.

I eyed him warily, slumping back into the corner booth. "How could you possibly know that?"

I've never talked to anyone at work about mom.

"I followed you when I found out you were stealing it."

"Why would you do that?" I asked horrified.

He followed me. I was so appalled

"I wanted to know why."

"Why?"

"To know how fast I was going to turn you in." He said it so matter-of-fact, so unabashedly.

And he keeps calling it 'stealing'. I liked to think of it as 'skimming' because it sounded less awful.

I swallowed. He did think about it.

How long had he known?

"You don't understand." I tried to explain. Flattening my hands over the table. "When Logan and I divorced, I let him keep everything because I just wanted it to be over."

"Doesn't seem like it's over."

Because Logan is always all over me.

"That is not reciprocated."

He tilted his head at me in a way that said he found that unlikely. "You married a guy but now you don't want him?"

"Not after I found out where he'd been. Saw him a bit differently after that."

"C'mon." He gave me a sideways look. "Not even once."

"Once." I lifted my finger, dropping my head in shame. "And it was regrettable."

"Ooh." He pursed his lips. "Not good when a woman says lovemaking is regrettable."

"That's putting it kindly." I grunted. "Hardly lovemaking."

"Hmm." He eyed me.

I was immensely curious to hear whatever it was he considered saying.

But he decided against it. Closing his lips.