by D. M. Burns
My ass is sure to get blown away. Knowing my luck, Asia’s dad will bust down the door and blow my dick off saving any questions for after the fact interrogations. At this point, I don’t mind the gunshot wound as long as I get to see Asia.
This was Rage’s old house and weirdly enough his room is where Asia decided to bunk up at when her parents bought the place. I know she broke it off with me, but it’s been over two months now. I’ve literally tried every logical route to talk to her and came up empty. Asia’s mom won’t let me past the front fucking door and even slammed it in my face yesterday. Asia avoids me at school. She won’t answer my calls or texts. And soon she’ll be gone to LA. What other options did she leave me? None.
Seeing her is a life-altering need at this point. So, here I am climbing through her god damn window like I’m fourteen all over again desperate for my first piece of pussy. Jesus.
Tiptoeing over to her bed, the best possible way a human of my size can, I look down on her sleeping silhouette. Her long brown locks are fanned out across her pillow and she seems so damn peaceful. A far cry from the lost, depressed shell of a girl that I’ve watched her become over the past couple of weeks.
Standing back and observing it take place has fucked your boy up. It’s like witnessing a healthy individual become a needle junkie overnight, devastating. Weight loss, circles under her eyes, and detachment is real and seeping the life out of my girl steadily. When you love someone, it’s fucking painful to witness their steady decline.
Something major happened that turned everything to shit but she’s not sharing. And I don’t expect her to tonight. I just want to hold her, feel her and smell her. Press her little body against mine and forget the bullshit that’s preventing her from being with me for a few hours. This may sound farfetched to most, and a little on the psychotic side of things, but I believe she needs me too.
My instincts are rarely ever wrong. But I followed them all the way to her house tonight. Hell, conjuring this shit up in my head is highly likely. Without her, I feel like I’m losing my god damn mind and grip on reality too. I’m not striking that shit off the list. Anything is possible at this point. I’m in a dark place and my hearts hanging from a hook in Asia’s meat cooler until further notice.
If she wakes up and freaks out, then I’ll willingly go. But I sense it won’t come to that. Her baby brown sugar eyes say otherwise every god damn time I catch her staring at me in the hallways at school. They plead for me to figure the riddle out. God knows I’m trying. For the life of me, I am.
Kicking off my shoes, I step over to the bed and kneel at her side. Stroking her hair through my fingers with a feather-light touch, I watch her sleep almost peacefully. I find myself wondering if she’s smiling and laughing there in her dream. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her do that. She smells just like fresh laundry mixed with sweet plums that she manages to morph into her own signature scent. When she mumbles my name my heart fucking twists in its box. Damnit, what’s this girl doing to us and why?
Leaning forward I place a kiss to her forehead and as I pull back her eyes flutter open. She’s looking at me like she’s sure I’ll disappear, another dream. I steeple my hands together and press them over my lips, waiting for the verdict. We just stare at each other, unmoving. I don’t even think I fucking breathe until she holds the blankets back in sweet invitation. Thank fuck.
Wasting no time for her to change her mind, I peel the shirt over my head and climb into bed with her. Gating my arms around my girl, I close her in. She sinks into me becoming a part of my skin. “Baby I don’t want to let you go. Please don’t fucking make me.” I whisper into her hair.
Asia never answers me, never says a single word. Instead, she weeps silently while her body breaks beneath my arms. Worse fucking feeling in the world is to be healthy and strong but helpless to those you love that are in need.
Each one of her hushed tears that touchdown against my naked chest is like setting off nuclear bombs in my head. Firing off my thoughts in opposing directions. Analyzing over every single day since she took a step back from me, from us. None of this makes any sense. I do the only thing I know to do for her right now. I hold my baby girl until she slips back off into her dreams.
This is not the actions of someone that doesn’t want to be with me, no. This is the desperate actions of someone who feels like she has no other god damn choice but not be with me. None of which has a fucking thing to do with a job in LA.
chapter 17 - Asia
When the front gates inch open, the guard hands me back my ID. I drive through the well-secured barricade to my next appointment. The make-over for the day is a well-established music executive that has been a client of mine for years. Ashlin Avers of Avers Recording called last minute for an event she’s attending tonight. The bubbly down to earth southern chick doesn’t have to ask me twice. I love working with her and the pay is extreme.
Parking in front of the massive estate, I look out over the grounds at the workers bustling around the well-manicured lawn. I’ll admit, this place is beautiful and freaking huge. I can’t even fathom what the cost associated with the upkeep is on the lawn alone.
I tend to love my tiny apartment. It’s cozy and just enough for me. Stepping out of my car, I pop the trunk and go to dig out my supplies when I see Ashlin’s head of security coming my way.
“Mrs. Avers told me you were coming. It’s nice to see you again lovely lady.” Deke says.
Deke’s a towering well-made Italian man of muscle with a friendly smile. His well-groomed onyx black hair makes his kind hazel eyes stand out. The mandatory earpiece is firmly in place and his entry badge hangs from his pocket. His black business suit must be tailor-made to fit his size and the noticeable bulge at the side hints to deadly intent. He’s armed and dangerous but not only because he’s packing. The man’s a martial arts expert. A bullet death from this guy is an easy way out compared to what he can do using his hands.
“Let me get that for you.” Deke grabs the bags from the trunk and leads the way inside. “Ashlin told me that you moved back home. She’s not happy with the fashion female that D&G sent out when we were in LA. But she’s delighted to have you here in the ATL.”
“Ahhh, that’s so sweet. Thanks, Deke. How have you been?” I ask.
Following behind him up the stairs, we stop so he can swipe his badge and the lock disengages. He pushes the door open and waves me through the immaculate space of the rich and famous with a bright smile.
“I’ve been great.” He smiles wide.
Deke sets my bags down in what can only be described as an in-house salon and spa. There are over ten hair and makeup stations with bright wall-to-wall lights. Raking my eyes over the massive room, it comes equipped with a row of manicure and pedicure stations too. There are even five masseuse tables on the ready to rub out whatever relief you desire. It’s every woman’s dream come true or man for that matter.
“I’ll get set up and maybe I’ll see you before I head out, yeah?” I ask.
“Since you’re back, how about you let me take you out tonight?” Deke asks.
Damn, Deke’s one fine-looking man and I’ve always been attracted to him. Our circle mixes well through work and play with common interests. After all the shit with Renegade and Jake, maybe a night out in good company is just what I need.
“Sure. Sounds like fun. Let me give you my number.” I say.
“I’ve got your information.” He says. I quirk my eyebrow. “It’s my job to know all the details babe. Eight o’clock, I’ll pick you up, sound good?”
“Perfect.”
Deke winks at me and I give him a small wave as he exits the door. With a fluttering feeling flying around in my chest, I get to work.
Walking hand in hand with Deke up the stairs to my apartment, I look down at our connection. My hand is being swallowed whole, like a lonesome penny in an oversized pocket. Deke squeezes gently and my head snaps up to see his sideways smile.
“You have
tiny delicate hands.” He chuckles. “Deceiving they are. I’ve sparred with ya. I know what they’re capable of.” I giggle.
“I tend to think you just have really big ones.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.
“Either way, I like how it feels in mine Miss. Grace.” He says.
Warmth spreads out over my cheeks and I look off to the side. I’ve had a wonderful time with Deke tonight. He’s super funny and drop-dead sexy but my mind forever strays to Renegade. I can’t help it. Loitering over the memories like an ancient artifact behind that plexiglass display, coveted but untouchable. I feel like a kid on a field trip in a museum with huge do not touch signs displayed everywhere when it comes to him. The allure around Renegade is eye-catching and just out of my reach.
“I had a great time tonight,” I say as we stop in front of my apartment door.
“You’re a beautiful woman, witty and smart, everything. Too bad your heart belongs to someone else.” He says. I look up at him and he shrugs his shoulders with a forced smile. Damnit. “It’s easy to see Asia. Body language and details are my thing.” I laugh without the added humor in the act.
“I’m so sorry. You must think the worse of me Deke.” I cover my face with both of my hands. He wraps his huge arms around me and laughs.
“What I think is the one your heart belongs to is a damn fool. When you’re ready, I really hope I’m the lucky bastard that you reach out to.” He takes my keys, unlocks the door then places them back in the palm of my hand.
“For sure. You’re awesome Deke. In every way, truly you are.” I pat his chest.
“You have a wonderful night, you fashion queen badass.” He leans forward and places a kiss on my cheek.
“Good night Deke.” I wave as he takes the stairs back to his car.
Pushing through my door, I flip my living room light on and drop my purse on the entryway table. I twist the bolt on the door then let my head fall forward on the cool metal.
“I’m a total idiot,” I mumble.
“Not if your hearts not in it.” He says.
That low baritone voice is familiar and the only reason why I haven’t filled my living room full of bullets holes. I raise my head off the door and my shoulders deflate. Damn. Damn. Damn. Slowly I turn around.
“Where’s that gunmetal glory at baby?” He asks. In your eyes.
Reaching into the back of my pants, I slip my shit-silencer out and flash it at him then tuck it back into the front of my low-rise pants. He smirks at me then gives me a wink of approval.
“That’s my girl.” He chuckles. No, but I wished I was.
My eyes zoom in on Renegade lounged back in my lazy boy chair. He dropped the business boy attire and his hair is flowing freely tonight. That muscle tough built body of his is snuggled up tightly in a black tee and well-fitted blue jeans. When I catch a glimpse of my Southern Comfort bottle nestled next to the chair I inwardly cringe. I don’t have to question what the brown liquid is in the glass hanging from his fingertips. Notably, a hefty helping of said alcohol is gone. This should lead to an interesting conversation.
“How did you get in here?” My voice has no energy. It lacks that fighting spirit and Ren knows it. Even though my heart is flipping about like a loose flap. I play it off well.
“Seriously?” He quirks his eyebrows as if my question is ludicrous. I wave my hand out. “You fucking Deke Garrison?” Dear God, help me have patience through this little chit chat.
“That’s none of your business but no, Renegade. Did you come here to warn me about his imaginary wife too?” He laughs out loud.
“So, you know about that little white lie, huh?” He asks.
“I’m not to pissed off because Chance never had a chance, Ren. I would’ve never dialed the number. Well, maybe… But it doesn’t really matter now does it?” He shakes his head no with zero shame. He lied about Chance. Reese’s Pieces told me all about it. “I see you’ve helped yourself to my liquid love stash.” He grunts while shifting those eyes down and staring into his glass. “I’d ask how you know Deke’s name, but I’m scared the answer you’ll provide will only piss me off.” I roll my eyes at him. “Whatever...” I whisper. He tilts his head to the side studying me. Damn. “I’m really not in the mood for this shit tonight Ren.”
I move down my hallway and flip the light on in my bedroom. The noises from over my shoulder indicate that he’s following me. God, help me steady my breathing.
My bed’s a large cherry oak four-poster masterpiece with a fluffy white comforter and several red pillows. The bed almost takes up the entire room but it’s my comfy space. Other than a dresser and mirror to match plus my beautiful Marilyn Monroe standing over the famous air blowing manhole picture on the wall, this is my room in a nutshell. It’s totally me and I love it.
Tugging the shirt over my head, I toss it across the room into the laundry basket. My black tank top covering my tits will surely follow suit just as soon as Ren takes off. I place my gun on my dresser, kick off my shoes, grab a pillow and face plant into the center of my bed’s fluffiness. I’m tired. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
When I feel the air go thick around me, I know he’s close. I speak into the pillow, “Ren whatever it is you want please use some finesse in your approach. Flying objects are possible if you piss me off. I like my apartment. I don’t have much. So, I don’t want to break what little I do have.”
The silence stretches and I begin to wonder if he left. When I roll over, he’s leaning into the door jamb with his arms crossed over his chest. Those silver bullets aimed at me. We stare at each other. How long? I’m not even sure. The only movement is his jaw twitching. Sexy.
“Why did you meet up with Jake a few weeks ago?” He asks. Uncrossing his arms, he brings the Southern Comfort bottle up to his lips, he takes a swig then lowers it back down at his side. What happened to the glass? Shit.
“I went to go look at the space available. I didn’t know he owned it until I got there.” The anger starts out like a small kindling fire, contained for now. “Are you following me now Renegade?”
“You’re not renting from him, Asia. That man’s off in the fucking head.” He taps his temple.
No shit. If there was a door prize available, Ren would be the winner. I know Jake’s level of fuckery firsthand. Not that I’ll ever entertain anything Jake Sellers related, but I’m not getting into that with Renegade, ever.
Most don’t see know the depts to this man standing before me though. Not like I do. His evil has an edge all its own, unmatched villain. If that seal is ever broken, I’m not certain Ryice can be reeled back in. I’m not testing that theory out. My secrets are what keeps Renegade safe from himself, his own actions.
It’s not lost on me that this entire convo seems a little comical coming from the man keeping tabs on me. Something’s got to give with this caveman bullshit though. Renegade loves to hate me. I get it. I feel that same way about myself sometimes. But if he keeps this shit up my blowback will be harsh. Every stunt or verbal blow is like adding a category to a dangerous tornado, it’s picking up speed. Let’s just quickly run through a few of his star-worthy highlights since I’ve been back.
First, he showed up here after the welcome home party whispering heart-me-not poetry in my ear. Plus, he caused me to ruin an entire bottle of vodka.√
Secondly, the PDA display of his dick getting hoovered in his office at Club Chaos was a direct punch to the vag.√
Of course, let’s not forget that he bought my shopping mall space out from under me.√
Then he set Hoss loose on a suicide mission while he stood back and watched from a desolate dark corner. Regardless of the outcome, namely Hoss getting that ass tuck into bed by yours truly, it’s the principle.√
Third, the lies he layered thick about Chance was straight-up bullshit. Yeah, I know all about that. Rage told Reese. Reese told me. Mandatory BFF bitch code calls for it. I figured I’d let Renegade have that play. I’m not picking a battle over it with Ren. Someti
mes a man needs to have a victory under his belt, whatever.√
Let’s not forget, he embarrassed the hell out of me at Swanks. The ass smacking was hot but damn, no follow-through game has left me a little salty.√
Now, the man’s breaking and entering.√
Last but not least, he’s drinking my damn alcohol and if my suspicions are right, he’s been following me too.√
Hell, the list keeps growing at an unhealthy rate.
“Ren, I have a lengthy mental checklist with all your bullshit mounting upon it. How long do you think it’ll be before I snap, really? I’m asking for a friend. Mainly for the one that’ll need to bail me outta jail.” I ask. His jaw twitches again and he looks down at the floor. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough.” His response is quick.
“What do you want from me, Ren?” I raise my hands up then let them fall back to the bed, dead weight.
“You won’t give me what I want.” His voice is pained. Those eyes snap up to me. The hurt I see in them is raw. His words are razor sharp. Damn, baby, I know you want answers, but I can’t.
“I give you what you need Renegade.” It’s true. I do.
No Truth.
No Lies.
Nothing.
It’s safe. The brief moments that I thought about breaking away from my walls were temporary insanity slips. Cage the chaos, him. I squeeze my eyes shut and rollback over and bury my face into the pillow.
chapter 18 - renegade
Maybe I’m a little drunk. Okay, I’m a lot drunk but fuck it. I’ve put one on almost every night since my little heart to heart with Jake the Ripper. It’s like that motherfucker has crept into my brain with a cancerous aftermath effect. Sprouting his bullshit by insinuating that he and Asia had secrets, together. Or even better, that they shared something deeper. Delusional bag of dicks.
After leaving that place, I went straight to Renegade Investigations. I pulled Crash Holland, my teams lead investigator and asked him to dig deep into both, Jake and Asia. I want every damn thing that he can get his hands-on stemming out over the past five years.
