He scrutinized me a moment longer, then moved farther away. The absence of his body was similar to withdrawal. My skin itched without him. One kiss and I was hooked.
I quickly scuttled to the side of the room. I didn’t need another addiction.
“Come here, Becky,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.
I found my feet obeying his command without hesitation and I came to a stop in front of him. He grasped my hips, gently pulling me to him.
“I’ll go,” he murmured. “Whores don’t seem to interest me anymore, and my bike’s already a work of art. I’m sure I’ve got a few great novels in me, considerin’ I’m a goddamn genius.” His eyes twinkled, then turned serious. “I’ll do none of those things. I’ll only do the one thing that you suggest, which I don’t want to do, and that’s leave.” He paused. “Forgetting about you is not an option, firefly. You’re under my skin.” He leaned forward to land a soft kiss on my bruised face. My eyes fluttered closed, feeling a cocktail of pain and pleasure from the gesture. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.
And I was well and truly fucked.
Because he was under my skin too.
Amongst the filth and the demons that had been there since I was a kid.
That was the last place someone like him needed to be.
Chapter Three
“Drugs take you to hell, disguised as heaven.”
-Donald Lynn Frost
You’d think I’d be a little hesitant at opening the door to someone banging on it, considering what happened the last time.
You’d think wrong.
And it wasn’t just that I was riding a glorious little high my boy Silas had hooked me up with. Broken ribs and a battered face hurt, a lot, so I was able to get some heavy-grade painkillers. Yeah, the beating hurt, but now I had a socially acceptable reason to pop pills.
You know, because heroin wasn’t enough.
But a girl needed something. Especially since I wouldn’t have the cash for much more until I was on the mend. Carlos hadn’t been happy when I’d called to tell him the situation. Not about Dylan beating me up, no, about me not being able to work a pole with four cracked ribs.
“You’re letting me down, Rebecca. I’m disappointed,” he clucked over the phone.
I scowled at the air. “Oh yes, I’m letting you down,” I replied sweetly. “By not saying yes to prostitution after the first punch? Do you really think I’d play nice if you got Dylan to convince me with his fists, you chauvinistic prick?”
There was a long silence on the phone. Don’t ask me why I’d even called him, considering he was the reason I was a lovely shade of purple. Maybe so I could finally yell at him.
“I’m going to choose to ignore that little outburst considering your situation,” Carlos said finally. “I had no knowledge of Dylan’s actions, and I’ll see to it that our business relationship is severed.”
I restrained a snort. Yeah, right. Dylan was a Tucker, and the Tuckers were a notorious wannabe mob family who thought they ran everything in this town. Carlos was so tangled up with them it wasn’t funny.
“And I’ll go and dye my hair, join a sorority, and wear pink,” I retorted sarcastically.
Another pause. “You should be careful talking to your employer like that,” he warned. “A girl like you doesn’t have a lot of options considering your only assets are what you can sell and your little… habit.” His voice was smug.
Of course he knew. Carlos was a weasel, but he knew everything that was going on at his club. “So I’ll place you on unpaid leave while you think about your options. Your many, many options,” he taunted.
There was an audible click as he hung up.
“Fuck,” I hissed through my teeth. I threw my phone down with a force that sent barbs of pain through my midsection.
The fucker was right. I had no option but to go back to him. No one to fall back on but myself. And I was doing a pretty crappy job right now. But if I wanted to stay fed—and, more importantly, stay high—it was my only option. Lily would, of course, offer to sell her kidney for me if that was what it came to, but no way in hell was I letting that happen.
So, after slamming the phone down, I answered the door. I wasn’t afraid of what I’d find on the other side. Fear was useless and not something I’d felt since that night all those years ago. I wasn’t scared of opening the door.
Though I was confused.
I frowned at the skinny redhead in front of me. He looked like a pizza boy, tall, lanky, splotched in freckles, and looking like he had barely gone through puberty. “Wow, Dominos is really edging up their uniforms,” I exclaimed, taking in his leather vest, jeans and boots. “I dig it. But you seem to have forgotten your pizza. And I didn’t order one.”