by Jennifer Ann
“Don’t matter,” I say. “I liked it. I would’ve kept it going if my mom hadn’t walked in on us. She threatened to have Stacey arrested. It was probably the only real decent thing my mom ever did for me since I was a baby. Then my old man blew his knee out and came back two months early. She told him what happened right before she told him she was leaving us for some douche she met at the casino. I haven’t seen her since. My old man blamed me for what happened with Stacey, and moved us back here to where he grew up.”
“What happened wasn’t your fault. You were a victim.”
“I fuckin’ know that. Just like I know this thing with you is different. You aren’t taking advantage of me the way she did. I’m old enough to know right from wrong, and I know what I want. I want this. I want you.” I roll onto my side, threading my fingers through her hair as intensity oozes from my every last pore. “You’re the only one outside of my crew who seems to give a shit whether I live or die. And you look at me like I’m a man. You make me feel like a man. Aside from whatever code you’re breaking by being with me, the way you make me feel is worth it.”
Before she can find a way to negate everything I said, I pull her into my arms and kiss her.
OVER THE NEXT WEEK, Brooke arranges for Sasha to complete her schoolwork from home. Whatever kind of magic she pulled with the middle school, I’m grateful as fuck. At least Sasha has some kind of stability while her brother’s fate remains up in the air until his trial.
I spend as much time with Brooke as we can manage. Thought we’d have all the time in the world with Jordan’s new slack rules. But between school, her job, meeting with my new counselor, and moving the band’s equipment to Jordan’s garage for jam sessions with Sasha and the guys, it’s nothing close to enough.
The first time Brooke watches us as we work through a new song Ryker wrote, I catch her bobbing her head to the beat, eyes closed. Gets me all worked up seeing her appreciating music that way, like it seeps into her heart and penetrates her soul like it does to me every time my fingers touch the strings. I’ve been introducing her to bands that have a sound similar to ours, and she claims to love every one. She’s always telling me not to give up on my dream to tour the world, and sometimes I even lie to myself, saying it could happen.
We’re limited to stolen kisses when we’re not helping Sasha with school, a quickie in my room at Jordan’s while she’s over for dinner one night, and a blowjob in a supply closet the time I meet with my new hard-ass social worker.
Although I’m no longer on her caseload, Brooke’s understandably still leery of the consequences. Sneaking around only heats things up. Once I send Sasha off to be with Grandma Miriam again the next weekend, the marathon of sex that follows is the best I’ve ever had.
Somewhere between the string of endless orgasms, Brooke convinces me to apply to a few colleges and throw my hat in the ring for a dozen different scholarships. While I still believe the notion of someone like me going to college to be ridiculous, I wonder if she listed a couple local universities because she’s hopeful I’ll stick around. Maybe I’m not the only one who doesn’t want this thing with us to end. Hell if I know where it could be headed, but lately I’ve aspired to become something more, solely for her.
The child psychologist is easily manipulated into thinking I’m a well-adjusted citizen who’s suffered extensive abuse. She writes a glowing report for the children’s advocate to present to the court along with her own favorable observations. After only a few hours with each of the women, they make a recommendation that I continue counseling until I’m nineteen. Best of all, they’re in agreement that any formal charges against me related to the shooting should be dropped.
Though my old man remains in a coma, the following Monday he’s formally charged with felony domestic assault despite my strong objections. I just want to cut all ties with the asshole so he’s out of my life forever.
While I haven’t seen anything of King Marty since Trask’s last hearing, I check in with Candy a few times to see what she’s seen or heard, which amounts to jack-shit aside from a few more trust-fund kids hanging around the area than usual. Brooke thinks it's drug-related. I remain skeptical, thinking there must be something bigger involved. Why else would King Marty be so determined to send Trask away?
Another week passes. More sneaking around leads to another scorching weekend while Sasha’s away.
As Brooke comes out of the shower following the latest fuck-fest involving edible massage oil, she catches me throwing my shirt on while I’m finishing up a call with Candy. It’s a weak lead, but it’s the best I’ve gotten since Trask was arrested.
I toss my phone on the bed at the same time Brooke lets her towel fall to the carpet. Watching a bead of water trailing down her body, rolling off a hard nipple and landing in her neatly trimmed pussy, I lick my lips. I hate myself for leaving that gorgeous fuckin’ body earlier than planned.
Her eyebrows lift. “Why are you dressed?”
“I’m heading down to the South Side.”
Disappointment floods her beautiful face as her shoulders drop. “Already? I thought Sasha wasn’t coming back until tonight.”
“That’s still the plan. I’m going to check on a tip that something’s going down in the old neighborhood. A group of preppy students from the U are handing out fliers of three friends that went missing in the past couple of weeks. Whatever’s going down, King Marty’s behind it.”
“Maybe their friends OD’d. The South Side likes to discard junkies without getting the cops involved.”
“Maybe, but I intend to find these students and see what they know.” I move over to take her wet body in my arms, and press a kiss against her damp lips. “If I’m not back by nine, I’ll have Stone deliver Sasha here. You girls aren’t running around the South Side in the dark without me.”
Her short, unpolished fingernails dig into my arms. “Don’t go.” My heart dips when she throws me the kind of wide-eyed look, pleading I doubt I’d ever be able to say no to. “I’m sure they’ve filed missing person reports if their friends are handing out fliers.”
“Babe, me and Stone are all Trask has. Ryker’s head is so far up his ass that he can’t be counted on to see what’s really going on. I have to do whatever I can to help Trask out of this mess.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“That's not a good—”
She silences me with a hot and dirty kiss. I grab a handful of wet hair and drag her closer, then pull away with a grunt. “Your ass is sexy as hell, but it’s not going to distract me. You’re not going. It’s too dangerous. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
“You can give me a thousand reasons why it’s a bad idea, but I once thought getting involved with you was a bad idea too. And look at us now.” With a wicked grin, she stretches her neck to lick the corner of my mouth. “I’m. Going.”
And I’m a fucking goner. What the hell am I going to do with this stubborn woman?
8
BROOKE
Until we reach the South Side, I had almost forgotten how terrifying it can be on a Saturday night. Every shadow’s filled with danger and every person we pass is a threat. A ball of dread becomes so large in my throat that I can hardly swallow.
Liam insisted I wear my hair down with a beanie and go without my glasses so I wouldn’t be recognized by any past or present clients. Honestly, I adore the way he’s always looking out for me and his crew. Life may have wronged him a thousand times, but he’s still on his feet, fighting for those he cares about. He’s far more noble than any man I’ve dated.
I grip his hand tighter than intended as we pass through the scariest block where I once saw a man taking a dump in the middle of the street. Tonight’s not any less intimidating with the amount of times we’re approached for drugs or money. I’m almost thankful my vision’s fuzzy. But it doesn’t do anything to sooth my worries.
Liam strolls up to a set of hookers, tipping his chin to the older of t
he two. “Candy, baby, how’ve you been?”
“Better now that your fine ass is here.” The woman’s dark eyes flip over to me. There’s a possessive air between her and Liam that clenches my stomach, although the way her gaze rakes up and down my body doesn’t feel hostile. It’s also not welcoming. “Who’s this sexy thing?”
“This is my girl, B.” He throws his arm around my neck like he’s claiming his property. I sink into him, surprised as hell by how safe I suddenly feel despite being in the middle of all the chaos. I’d give anything for this to be our life, for us to be nothing more than a boy and girl who are really into each other. I’d almost be willing to go back to living on the South Side if that’s what it took. Almost.
“B, huh?” Candy’s thin lips painted a bright pink with cheap lipstick spread, showing a line of teeth decayed from frequent meth use. “Hope you’re keepin’ an eye on my boy, B. If there’s trouble, this one’ll find it.”
I rest my hand on Liam’s chest and match her smile. “Don’t worry. I’m keepin’ him honest.”
Liam grunts, rolling his eyes. “Have you seen those students again since you called?”
“Kat dropped by a bit ago, said they was down at Slick Willie’s gettin’ hammered and wavin’ them fliers all over the place. Bet if you hurry your sweet asses down there, you’ll catch ‘em.”
Liam pulls a $20 from his jeans pocket and hands it to her. “Thanks, Candy. Don’t go spending this on anything detrimental to your health.”
Candy slips the money under her bra strap, eyeing me closely. “Mmmhm. And don’t you go messin’ things up with Miss B, here. She looks like a winner with all them pretty teeth.”
As we walk away, I turn to press my head against Liam’s chest to suppress a nasally giggle.
Liam bends down to whisper, “I should’ve told her them pretty teeth taste as good as they look.”
I giggle harder, all at once silly and carefree. It’s a weird sensation—something I’ve rarely experienced, even when Liam’s age. I tend to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, and consider everything about life to be grim. It’s hard to slap on a smile at the end of the day after spending countless hours around abused and neglected children. In taking my job seriously, I walk a fine line between depression and guilt. There’s no shutting that shit off.
Since I started sleeping with Liam, I’m not as anxious or uptight about my sucky life or the stressors created by my career. Part of it may be due to the fact that he’s the first man to make me feel sexy and desired instead of needy and vulnerable, or even a victim.
If I were to analyze the relationship too closely, I’m sure I’d convince myself it’s only because he’s so young and doesn’t have as many responsibilities. But that’s a load of crap, considering he has more dire troubles than any grown man I know. The dreamer in me wants to believe it’s because we fit so well together, although I’m still trying to accept the reality that this won’t be anything more than a fling. A walk on the wild side. Forsaken lust.
A short distance later, we’re standing outside Slick Willie’s. With a lump in my throat, I stop Liam on the sidewalk. “Maybe I shouldn’t go in. I’ve worked with so many people from this neighborhood. What if someone recognizes me?”
“You’re sure as fuck not staying out here alone.” He reels me in tight against him and drops a kiss on my forehead. “Stick close and pretend you’re shy. They won’t suspect anything with you here as my girl.”
I’m tucked into his side as we enter. Thankfully it’s twice as dark as I remember, keeping curious stares at bay. The place reeks of weed and there’s a haze of smoke suspended in the air despite the state-wide ban on smoking indoors. Rock music rattles against my eardrums, made worse by the buzz of cackling laughter and shouted conversations.
Liam strolls up to the bar, waving a bartender over like he’s the king of the world. I’m probably not too far off with the analogy. “Two rum and sodas.”
The beefy man behind the bar glances to where I’m cuddled against Liam before nodding. “Sure thing, Rook.”
Of course he’s served on the South Side. Most kids use fake IDs, but it’s not necessary when you’re one of the South Town Players.
A few patrons at the bar gape in our direction, so I bury my face against Liam’s chest. Everyone will have heard by now that he shot his old man. They’re probably wondering what he’s doing back in the old neighborhood. They’re maybe even afraid. Better their attention stay on him than his new girl of the week.
A minute later we’re handed our drinks at no charge. The bartender appears pleased with himself for giving someone with Liam’s stature a freebie.
Liam leads me away and heads toward a small group gathered around the pool tables in back. The University students stick out like a sore thumb among the regulars. Their designer clothes, shiny white smiles, and perfect hair would’ve been a dead giveaway if they weren’t clutching stacks of fliers. It also makes them a prime target for muggings. The urge to smack them each upside the head vibrates through my core as Liam approaches, making the locals scatter.
“You the ones looking for your missing friends?” His question is directed at the big-breasted blonde with mascara smudges around her eyes. She’s an exact replica of the spoiled rich girls I dealt with in college that would taunt me for the simple way I dressed or wore my hair. Simply because I escaped the South Side on scholarships didn’t mean I suddenly had money to spend on anything else.
The two girls and their guy friend all seem to light up with Liam’s question, maybe because they’re hopeful, maybe because they find him attractive. My stomach dips when I realize they may be closer to his age than mine. I’ve never felt so ancient at twenty-three.
“Yeah we are.” The blonde thrusts a flier at Liam, her eyes taking him in like he’s a giant lollipop. “Have you seen them? They were last seen here a month ago. The cops aren’t doing anything to find them.”
I crane my neck to study the picture along with Liam of three young women. Two dirty blondes and a fair-complected brunette. Each relatively fit, each seemingly average. There’s nothing unique about them either individually or as a group, although they’re each pretty enough. Someone in the South Side could’ve started up a sex trafficking business. It’d be the first known ring in the area since I started my job, but it wouldn’t be unheard of. The statistics of that shit going on across the country is mind-boggling.
Liam shakes his head while handing the flier back to the blonde. “I’m sorry, we haven’t.”
She pushes his hand back, letting her fingers linger a little too long on the back of his hand. “Keep it. We made hundreds of these damn things. No one around here seems to have heard or seen anything, but I think they’re all full of shit!” When she yells out the last words, a few of the locals snigger.
“What were they doing here in the first place?” I ask. “You guys must all know this neighborhood is dangerous.”
“They into drugs?” Liam adds.
“Just pot,” the guy answers, shrugging. “No different than anyone else at the U. Everyone comes down here for the good stuff.”
“Probably because it’s laced with other shit,” I mutter, only loud enough for Liam to hear.
He huffs with an agreeable noise while glancing back at the picture. “Did any of them mention any names, or maybe say they were coming here to meet someone?”
“No, but they’d been acting kind of weird,” the blonde answers, pushing her lip out.
“Define ‘weird’,” I prod, annoyed by her childish pouting.
The blonde’s Bambi eyes don’t leave Liam, like he’s the one who asked her a question. “None of them come from a lot of money, but they’d been spending it like crazy. On shoes and purses and shit. A week before they disappeared, they bought dinner for the entire sorority house, then hired male dancers and a deejay. I swear it’s like they had won the lottery.”
“They could’ve started dealing,” I say, exchanging a similarly bright-
eyed expression with Liam. “Where else would they get that kind of money?”
Liam’s brow furrows when he eyes the blonde. “Anything else about their behavior stand out to you before they disappeared?”
“Not that I can remember. But there were these two guys who came to see them a day or two before they went missing. I think they might have been father and son. One was this skinny redheaded kid, and the other was big and scary, with scars all over his face.”
A skinny redheaded kid. Trask?
“Fuck,” Liam mutters, rubbing his neck. He pins the blonde down with a sharp look. “Was the big guy wearing a fedora?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“We have to go,” Liam tells me, obviously unnerved by this guy wearing a fedora.
The blonde pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, eyeing him like he doesn’t have his arm around another woman. “You should give me your number in case I think of anything else.”
I’d like to think in another life, I would slap her for leering over my man. Possibly even pull her hair a little.
Liam holds the piece of paper up. “We have everything we need.” He drags me up against him, kissing the top of my head. “Let’s get out of here.”
I want to kiss him for being smart enough not to give out anything that could get back to King Marty. Okay, most of all I’m just grateful he isn’t falling for this bimbo’s act. Before he can pull me away, I throw the trio a deadly glare, settling on the busty blonde. “Unless you want to end up like your friends, stay the fuck away from the South Side.”
The blonde sticks one hip out like a cartoon character, folding her arms over her chest. It’s so juvenile and over the top that the urge to slap her intensifies. “Are you threatening me?”
“No, it’s a warning. I grew up around here. This neighborhood will destroy girls like you.” I kind of hate myself for sounding like a mom, so I add, “I see any of you in here again, I’ll kick every last one of your preppy asses myself.”
