“Holy shit.” Sarge paled.
“What?” Milo turned to Sarge, scowling. “It’s a huge fucking moneymaker. There’s a big market for girls, especially the young ones.”
“Milo, shut the fuck up right now.” My fingers itched to pull out my knife and slice him from sternum to groin before remembering I wasn’t wearing any of my blades. Damn, next time, SOS or not, I’ll get dressed properly. “I will not ever sell human beings. Don’t speak of it in front of me again.”
Milo didn’t know about Rose. No one knew, but it didn’t fucking matter. I didn’t have to explain myself to him or anyone and I wasn’t budging on that point. Milo was clearly displeased, his face red, the muscles in his neck tight.
I turned back to Sarge, ignoring Milo’s ire. “Keep men on him at all times. Make sure they’re careful. El Cuchillo might act like
a fucking pinheaded idiot, but he’s not as stupid as he seems. If he catches our men, he’ll have them killed, and it won’t be quick or painless.”
Sarge nodded and stood. “I’ll keep you updated, Boss.”
“Thanks.” I buzzed the door open and Sarge slipped out of the study.
“What now, Boss?”
I ran a hand through my hair, vacillating between complete exhaustion and raging fury. “Now, we prepare for war.”
Miri
Done with my project, I put away the tools and washed my hands in the garage sink. Just as I feared, despite desperately wanting to believe Jag was different, I woke to an empty bed. Jag was gone. He wasn’t anywhere in the house, either. Not knowing what else to do, I got dressed and did some maintenance on the Ducati.
The garage I worked for when I lived with Cat wasn’t in the best area of the city, so this was my first time doing maintenance on a motorcycle as flashy or expensive as a Ducati. My lack of experience on the sleek bike slowed me down and it took a little longer than usual to finish the work, but by the time I was done, I had it all figured out and was confident I could handle any bike out there.
Which brought me to my newest concern. I needed a purpose, a life, something of my own. As nice as it was, I needed a job. I couldn’t live here forever, sponging off of Jag. I’d already let myself get way too close to him. It was better to separate myself from him, get back on my own two feet as soon as possible, and get out of here before I fell hard for a man incapable of returning my feelings. The biggest hurdle to cutting loose was the heroin. I was still getting two doses a day from one of Jag’s rotating cast of Men in Black. Yet, I swore I felt healthier than I had in months. I was gaining weight, getting stronger, my head was clear and my senses sharp.
Maybe I could just quit cold turkey. Over the last month or so, every horrific side effect of the drug had vanished—the itching, the stomach pain, the pallid complexion, and the anxiety—all gone. Frowning, I decided the next time I was scheduled to get a hit, I’d refuse and see what happened to my body. I had to stop shooting at some point, and I’d rather do it here at Jag’s house than once I was out on my own. If I could get clean, I could work and save money. Maybe I could even save enough to hire someone to find Cat, like a private investigator. Even if my best friend were dead, I’d rather find out than continue to suffer this agonizing limbo of not knowing.
After scrubbing the grease from my hands and putting each tool in its proper place, I spent the rest of the day in the gazebo, rocking on the swing and staring at the lake while a light breeze sifted through my hair.
“Ma’am…”
My arms flailed and I yelped in surprise. One of the Men in Black was standing on the steps, staring. My stomach clenched and my heart fluttered. It didn’t take a genius to know why he was here.
Here goes nothing.
Calm and collected, I leveled my eyes at the man named Jase. With a deep, fortifying breath, I spoke. “I know why you’re here and I’m not going with you.” The guy couldn’t hide his shock. After blinking several times, he stammered and stumbled over his words, his expression almost panicked.
“But… I have to… I mean, the boss said… Ma’am, you really need to come and get your dose.”
“No, I don’t. I’m not taking it anymore.”
Hands limp at his sides, Jase gaped, clearly not knowing what to do with a disobedient junkie.
“Boss said—”
“Fuck him,” I said and the young man’s face turned ghostly white at the insult I casually flung at a man most people, including this guy, deemed too frightening to badmouth, even when he was nowhere in sight. Well, screw that and screw both of them. I wasn’t afraid of Jag and I wasn’t giving in. Not on this. My body, my choice.
“I can’t—”
I stood and braced my hands on the wood railing of the gazebo, using the height advantage to lean over the man. All of my frustration with Jag, with my life, with my shitty fucking existence, erupted in a loud torrent of curses. “I’m not fucking going with you and you’re not sticking me with a goddamn needle. So go the fuck away! I don’t give a shit if you tell your precious Boss I’m refusing! He can shove his opinion right up his own ass!”
Jase visibly flinched, tripping on his own feet to put distance between himself and my angry tirade. His jaw twitched and I knew he was fighting the urge to just pick me up and throw me over his shoulder. But Jag’s orders were clear. No one could lay a finger on me and I knew it and Jase knew I knew it. With my chin jutting out and a false air of confidence, I spun around and sat back down on the swing, arms crossed as I shot daggers at the Man in Black, daring him to make a move while my heart raced. Mumbling a few choice obscenities, Jase stalked off, probably back to the house to tattle.
Freaking out, I inhaled deep to calm down, my hands trembling. Fuck them all. I owned my body. If I didn’t want drugs, they couldn’t make me take them, and I would fight tooth and nail to stop it from happening.
Hours later, I was still stewing in anger, rocking back and forth, my eyes unfocused as I planned my side of the eventual argument with Jag. In fact, I was so pissed off, I didn’t hear Jag approach until his boots made contact with the wooden steps of the gazebo.