"But if it was any of those not-awful scenarios, why would she just up and leave her life? Her pet? Her family? The money was hers; it's not like she stole anything."
"Dunno how much you know about addicts, babe," Sawyer said, moving over toward the coffee pot and helping himself to one of the mugs Paine had put out, "but they're selfish and entitled. That's what the drugs do to you. Nothing and no one matters but the next hit, the next high or not feeling sick when you're on the down slide. She's not your sister if she's heavy into heroin. She likely doesn't care about her house, her family, her friends, her pets. She cares about the drugs. That's it. Case closed. So if she thought that you or her father or her friends might stand in a way of her next high, she's gonna want nothing to do with any of you."
As harsh as that was, as hard to swallow, it was somehow almost comforting. Maybe it was just that easy. Maybe she was just so wrapped up in her drug-packed lifestyle that nothing else mattered. I could live with that. Addicts could be reformed. She could get help. She could move on from this, even if her trust was gone for good. There was still a way to have my sister back.
"But if someone is controlling her, babe, I don't think I got to tell you... that makes things complicated. Third Street can be wild and unpredictable. Especially if money is a factor. No disrespect," he said, jerking his chin toward Paine. "Know you used to run shit. Know your brother calls shots now, but it's a gang and they've been scrambling for a year trying to hold down a new supplier since your buddy put a plug in their last one's head."
My eyes went wide and focused on Paine. "He kidnapped his girl. Shooter is a sniper. He did what he had to do to get her safe."
"How... how does all this stuff happen right under my nose in this town and I don't know about it?"
True, we knew there was crime. Especially in the slums. We had The Henchmen MC who were definitely involved in some kind of illegal activities. A couple years back, a bunch of buildings in town were bombed. Then some guy named Lex Keith was brutally murdered and it came to light that he was a serial rapist that the NBPD ignored because he paid them a pretty penny to do so. But it was a big town, we had a really diverse population. With a large number of people came an expected amount of crime. But Paine and Sawyer were discussing drugs, gangs, snipers, and murder like it was an every day occurrence.
"Baby, you know that Italian place you like?"
"Famiglia?" I asked, head tilting to the side.
"Mob," Paine said with a smile.
"What!" I exploded, slapping my hand down on the counter. "You can't be serious."
"Antony and his sons: Luca and Matteo."
"My father and I had drinks with Antony. I had a date once with Luca! He stood when I got to the table and opened car doors. And you're telling me he's a part of the Italian mob?"
"They run the docks."
"Oh my God," I groaned, covering my face with my hands.
"And, hey, you know that bar you and your friends go to..." Sawyer went on, sounding amused.
"No. Not Chaz's!"
"Charlie and his sons are loan sharks."
"Shane was my personal trainer when I first started going to his gym. Mark fixed my flat once!"
"Surrounded by bad guys who aren't so bad," Paine said with a small smile.
"Aw look at the moment you two are having. Good girl and former gang banger getting all big-eyed. How sweet."
"Do you get some kind of commission every time you're a complete asshole?" I snapped, rolling my eyes.
"Just saying," he said, putting his mug down and making his way toward the back door, "do you really see this going anywhere? You gonna bring home a former pimp and drug dealer to meet your daddy? Come on now. Have your fun, get your rocks off, but don't think there's anything more than that between you," he warned, the door slamming settling with a weird feeling in my chest.
I hadn't really stopped to analyze what had been going on with Paine. First, because it had been a really weird situation. And, second, because I just hadn't had the time.
I had been focusing on my sex drive and nothing else. And, well, there was nothing wrong with that. Every red-blooded adult needed to get laid occasionally, even if that turned out to be all it was- sex. It wasn't something I did often, but once in a while, I had affairs. Was that what I was doing with Paine? If that was the case, why did I involve him on the situation with my sister? Guys who were nothing more than sex to me before didn't even know I had a sister. Granted, the situation was weird. And Paine had kind of forced his way into my life, throwing it even further off its axis.
Was I just some notch to him? Bag the rich bitch and brag about it to your buddies? If so, was I offended by that or okay with it?
"You're thinking too much," Paine interrupted my train of thought.
"What?" I said, shaking my head and looking for him because he wasn't beside me anymore. Somehow without my noticing, he had moved away toward the coffee pot and made us each a cup. He was walking back then, handing me the mug.
"Sawyer is a dick and he likes pushing buttons. That's what he does. You start thinking about the shit he says, you'll drive yourself crazy."
"Right," I agreed, sipping my coffee and silently telling myself that the only reason he could push a button was because it existed in the first place.
"You're tired. I'm beat. We've had a weird fucking night. Let's just call it a wash, yeah?"
"A wash?"
"We ain't fucking after that," he said with a smile, waving a hand out.
"Oh, okay." Yeah, that was kind of the last thing on my mind anyway.
"So let's sleep."
"Let's?" I questioned.
"Your bed is comfortable as fuck and I don't feel like driving home this late. You can try to relegate me to the guest room you stick poor Roman in, but I'll end up beside you regardless," he said, putting down his coffee mug and moving out toward the dining room.
I took a long sip of my coffee before putting it on the counter, hopping down, and following him upstairs.
I was going to sleep with Paine.
In the most literal way.
Somehow, that felt almost more intimate than sleeping with him in the figurative way.
When I got into my room, he had already kicked out of his shoes, his pants were gone, and so was his shirt. I felt my feet falter as I stepped into the doorway, taking in his broad back covered in dark tattoos. And while they were fascinating, the muscles were even more so. From the width of his shoulders, the strong plane of his back, to the muscular ass that filled out his dark boxer briefs way too well, he was a specimen of male perfection.
He turned slowly, as if sensing me looking at him, ducked his head to the side, and gave me a small smile. "Figured I'd leave the boxers on just this once."
I swallowed hard. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever is comfortable."
"Comfortable would be skin on skin with you, cock buried in that tight, wet pussy while you moan into my ear. But I'll settle for this."
So that whole... sex being the last thing on my mind thing? Yeah, that wasn't true anymore. My sex clenched hard and it was an effort to force myself to move forward toward my dresser, snagging whatever my hands reached for first and throwing myself into the bathroom. I stripped out of my clothes, washed my face, brushed my teeth, took out my contacts, and reached for my pajamas. It was right then that I realized I hadn't grabbed one of the chaste silky Victoria's Secret sleep shirts I thought I had, but a God damn white and pink nightie.
Great. That was just great.
I sighed at my blurry reflection and rolled up the nightie, slipping it over my head. It slithered over my sensitive skin in a far too erotic way and I knew that anytime I shifted in that bed, I was going to be washed over with that sensation again. Plus, the whole... Paine was going to see me in something overtly sexual while he was mostly naked thing. I said a silent 'thank you' to the universe that I had picked one that was solid silk and not one of the see-through lace ones.
On a shrug, I walked out of
the bathroom, turning off the light and drawing Paine's attention from where he was sitting off the side of the bed.
"Fuck babygirl," he groaned, running a hand over his cheek. "You own stock in a lingerie company?" he teased, crooking a finger at me. And, well, when a man as sexy and mostly naked as Paine crooked a finger at you, you went to him. His hands moved up the sides of my thighs, whispering up my skin until they came in contact with the nightie then settled at my hips. "Alright," he said after a long minute, "climb in."
"Climb in?" I repeated dumbly, half-expecting him to grab me and finish what we started earlier.
"Yeah, baby, climb in. We're sleeping, remember?"
Yeah, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be sleeping. But I moved beside him and climbed in, settling against the pillows as Paine turned, snagged the blankets, and pulled them up over both our bodies. He settled back then slid an arm under my neck, curling it and pulling me toward him until I was nestled into his side. Uncomfortable, I pressed up and moved to rest my cheek on his chest. His arm curled tighter around me as I settled in. My hand went up to the other side of his chest, my finger tracing over the large, bold '3' tattooed onto his pectoral.
"You live through the first year, you have to get the gang ink," he explained.
"You haven't covered it."
Beneath me, he shrugged. "It's a part of me. Covering up the mark on my skin doesn't make those years I spent disappear. It was a huge chunk of my life. I'm not gonna lie about it or pretend it didn't happen. Now sleep, baby," he said, his voice going soft and my belly did a flip-flop I tried to ignore.
It had been a long while since I fell asleep with a man. I forgot how nice it was to feel a firm body beneath yours and a strong arm around you, anchoring you to him like he didn't want you to accidentally slip away, to hear a heartbeat under your ear.
It was soothing.
Within minutes, I was out.
ELEVEN
Elsie
I woke up tucked in tight with blankets, slightly disoriented until the events of the night before came into focus. Confused, I shot up in bed. First, checking the clock to make sure I wasn't late for work. I had an hour and a half still. Second, looking around to see if Paine's clothes were still on the floor like he had gone down for coffee or something. Even his shoes were gone.
I squelched the unexpected twinge of disappointment, grabbed work clothes, and headed into the bathroom to shower. Forty minutes later, I was in steel gray slacks, black heels, and a black lightweight sweater. My hair was dry, my makeup done. I grabbed a black, gray, and white swirled scarf and tied it around my neck then went downstairs to head out early. There was no reason to sit around my house for a half an hour over-thinking what it meant that Paine sneaked out in the middle of the night or early morning.
I already had those thoughts on my mind all through my shower and prepping and, well, let's just say it wasn't helping my sour mood any.
My feet hit the bottom landing before I heard it, too consumed with my own depressive inner monologue to notice it before. There was clanging and the low, throbbing bass beat of hip hop music coming from my kitchen. I didn't realize I was smiling until my cheeks started to hurt. Cursing myself and making the smile fall, I moved through my dining room and into my kitchen to find Paine, changed, standing in front of my stove and pouring something into a pan, something I definitely did not have in my house the night before.
"Did you go shopping?" I asked, making Paine's head swivel toward me, doing a slow inspection as if there was anything sexy about my work attire, landing for a second on my neck.
"Come here, babygirl," he said, turning from the stove and going toward a small bag sitting on my island.
"Why?" I asked, already moving further into the room.
"Here," he said when I got close, reaching out for my scarf, untying it, and pulling it off. He reached into the bag and pulled out a small tube of something skin-colored, holding it up. "Sell this at the shop. It covers tattoos. It should work on your bruises," he said, twisting off the cap. "Pull your hair up for me," he said, squeezing some of the makeup onto his hands and reaching out toward me.
Yeah and then he totally rubbed makeup all over my neck. Incredibly gently, I might add. Finished, he inspected it for a second, squinting his eyes. "Did it cover?"
"I know it's there so I can make it out the tiniest bit, but I don't think anyone else will see. Especially if you throw a necklace on to distract them," he added as he went to the sink to wash his hands. "Baby, do me a favor and flip those pancakes."
I looked over at the stove dubiously. "You do know who you're talking to, right? I didn't even know I had to remove that plastic stuff."
"Spatula, scoop, flip, drop. I have faith in you."
Well, when he put it that way, it seemed like a seven year-old could do it. I flipped the pancakes, revealing the perfect golden side that made my belly growl. "You can cook," I commented, looking down at the circles.
Paine laughed, coming up behind me, his arm snaking around my belly as he reached for the box of pancake mix beside the bowl he used to mix it and held it up. "It's just add water and drop it into a pan. Not really a way to fuck that up. You smell good," he said, leaning down and nuzzling slightly into my neck in a way that engaged the lady bits that went to sleep unfulfilled the night before.
"Thanks," I mumbled as he reached for the spatula, scooped up the pancakes and piled them on a plate beside the stove. "What, are you feeding an army?" I asked, laughing at the massive pile of pancakes he had already made.
"Like the way your ass fills out jeans, babygirl. Want to make sure you keep it. Sit," he said, jerking his chin toward the stools at the island.
Feeling a little awkward, I followed instructions. I'd never had a man cook for me before. And, seeing as I didn't cook myself, I'd never really shared an intimate breakfast with someone before. Paine slid a plate with four pancakes in front of me then came back a minute later with utensils, syrup, and coffee.
"Eat," he said, shuffling around as he, I imagined, made himself food.
Maybe he liked the way my ass filled out my jeans, but if I kept eating junk, it was going to positively bust out of them sooner rather than later. I wasn't the kind of woman blessed with the metabolism of a fifteen year-old boy. If I didn't watch what I ate and workout, I put on weight easily, effortlessly. I made a mental note to hit the gym an extra night or two that week and dove into my pancakes. Because, well, he made them for me. No way was I rejecting them because of some ridiculous concerns about my waistline.
Paine sat down silently and started eating. Feeling uncomfortable with the silence, I reached for my coffee. "What time did you get up if you managed to get all of this done?"
"Five," he said with a shrug like that was totally normal.
"Five? Farmers aren't even up at five."
Paine gave me a sweet smile, reaching for his coffee. "I usually get up and hit the gym before I open the shop."
"Thank you for cooking," I said, reaching for another fork full. There was no way I was going to finish all of it, given how unaccustomed my stomach was to eating at all in the morning, let alone loading up on carbs and sugar.
"Why are you being weird?" he asked, making my head pop up.
"What?" Weird? I was being weird?
"Yeah, baby, weird. All awkward and shit. Not like you."
Shit. He was right. I was being awkward. That was because I felt awkward.
"Sorry. I dunno. I'm in a strange mood I guess," I said and it was mostly true.
Paine's stool scraped across the floor as he stood, coming around the end of the island toward me. I instinctively turned on my stool to face him just as both his hands moved, reaching out, and cradling my face as he lowered down toward me, his lips hitting mine hard and hungry and tasting like syrup and coffee. All of it was way too intimate and demanding for a good morning kiss. But damn if it wasn't nice. My hands went out and grabbed his hips, using them as leverage as I moved to stand, pressing my body agains
t his. His head tilted and his tongue traced my lips until they parted, sneaking in and claiming mine as his hands left my face, pressing down my back and circling around my hips, pulling upward slightly until I was on my tiptoes. My arms went around his neck tight, holding on, as a small whimper escaped me.
At the sound, Paine slowed and stopped the kiss, pulling backward and waiting until my eyes opened. "Feel better?" he asked, eyes bright.
"Ah, I..." I stumbled, feeling all tingly and sated.
"You feel better," he said with a self-satisfied smile. "You better get going or you're gonna be late. I'll clean up and set the alarm before I leave."
"Oh, um, okay," I said, nodding as I released his neck and took a step back.
"Bring this in case you need a touch-up," he said, handing me the tube of tattoo cover-up.
"Right... thanks..."
"Go," he said with a grin.
With that, I turned to grab my purse and keys and did what he said, ignoring the voice that was telling me that interaction felt a lot like a goodbye.
I threw myself in my car and backed out, cranking up the stereo and hoping I could drown out the voice inside.
Because, even if it was goodbye, so what?
He wasn't my boyfriend. He didn't even seem like boyfriend material. Nothing about him suggested he was a relationship-type of guy. He probably got around as much as he could. I couldn't fault him for that exactly, but it said he was used to the hit-and-quit kind of situation. And while I might have had two or three affairs in my time, I was not a hit-and-quit kind of girl.
Though maybe just this one time...
No.
Okay. I needed to get my shit together and focus on the things that mattered: work, friends, finding my sister. I didn't need to waste brain space thinking about a non-relationship that had absolutely no potential to become a relationship.
Savages Boxed Set Page 57
