Junkie (Broken Doll #1)

by Heather C. Leigh

  The men scattered like ants, none of them wanting to be caught in my crosshairs. I stormed across the study as they left and used my fingerprint to unlock a safe on the wall. A black metal box sat on the top shelf. I pulled it out and dropped it on my desk with a loud thud. A corner of the box took a chunk out of the polished wood desk and scattered some perfectly aligned items, but I couldn’t give two shits about my OCD tendencies right now. I opened the case and removed my Sig .22 caliber and screwed the silencer onto the barrel. Three loaded magazines were inside the box as well. I clicked one into the gun and racked the slide to put a bullet in the chamber. The other two magazines went into my pocket and the Sig into a custom shoulder holster I kept in a desk drawer. With my leather jacket on, the gun was invisible. I flexed my wrists to make sure my sheaths were in place and double-checked the KA-BAR on my lower leg. Everything else went back in the safe.

  Fully armed, I left the study and went straight to the garage. The house was empty save a couple of men to watch the grounds and in case Miri returned on her own. I wasn’t willing to kid myself, though. I knew the chances of her coming here were near zero. Some of her shit was gone, which meant Miri ran. I was relieved she wasn’t taken, but this almost stung more. Why would she leave? And if she did, did Cuchillo find her? Unfortunately, neither of those scenarios ended with Miri walking up the front steps anytime soon. Half my men were watching Los Guerreros and would notify me if they found out they had Miri. The other half were scouring the city for any sign of the tiny redhead.

  I opened the garage door, strode over to the Kawasaki and slung a leg over the bike. My heart hurt at the prospect of never seeing Miri again. Of never touching her, hearing her laugh, burying my nose in her hair and inhaling her sweet scent, feeling her soft skin beneath me and her tight heat around my cock. I revved the engine and tore out of the garage, hitting the street near full speed. When I reached the freeway and really opened up the bike, the landscape flew by in a blur. By the time I reached my destination, I had spun so many horrific scenarios in my head I was nearly hyperventilating.

  This all felt so damn familiar. It was something I never thought I’d have to go through again. It was why I didn’t get close to anyone, why I became Boss, the hardened drug lord who showed no mercy. Because caring, loving someone, loosing someone, fucking hurt like hell.

  The silence when I turned off the Ninja was almost as loud as the engine. Several sets of eyes lifted to check out the machine I straddled. Then the eyes moved to assess me. I removed my helmet and approached the open bays, my body language surely screaming danger. A quick scan of the garage lead to a swift punch of disappointment in my gut, the force of it nearly doubling me over in pain. No sign of Miri.

  “Can I help you?”

  I spun to find an enormous blond hulk of a man walking toward me. The huge, intimidating guy wore jeans and a T-shirt, just like me, only his were flecked with drops of motor oil and blotches of black grease. Big as he was, he wasn’t the one hiding a silenced pistol and two knives beneath a leather riding jacket. I fixed my face and put on my best smile.

  “Howdy. I’m looking for Miri Murphy. You hired her to work here.”

  The man’s eyes flashed with recognition and a hint of anger. I bristled at his reaction. Hulk knew something.

  Miri’s either here or she was here.

  Relief crashed over me. If Miri came here, it meant El Cuchillo didn’t have her. Thank God.

  “She said you’d come,” the burly blond said. He straightened to his full height, which was several inches taller than me. Not that I gave a single fuck how big he was. I’d kill him with my bare hands if it meant keeping Miri safe.

  “All right.” I struggled to contain my temper. After the day I’d had, I was at the end of my near-nonexistent patience. But pistol-whipping this guy until he told me what I wanted to know probably wouldn’t get Miri back in my arms, so I held steady. “Where is she?”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Can’t say she wants to see you, fella. Maybe you ought get back on that shiny motorcycle you got and head on out.”

  A growl tore from my throat and my fingers curled into fists. “What’s your name?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  The asshole gave me a knowing smirk. Fucker knew how badly I wanted to see her and was toying with me. Seeing as I had no fucking idea why Miri left or why she would tell this douchebag I couldn’t see her, I was hovering on the edge of completely losing my shit.

  “Name’s Beau. This here’s my garage.”

  I nodded and out of the corner of my eye I noticed the other men had stopped working and were coming closer to where I stood, circling the wagons.

  “Well, Beau. I fail to see how what goes on between Miri and me is any of your business. So if you’ll excuse me for not giving a shit and tell me where the fuck my girl is, I’ll be getting out of your hair and no one needs to be hurt.”

  I reached into my jacket and pulled out the Sig, the long suppressor making the pistol seem a hell of a lot bigger and a thousand times scarier than a normal handgun. Beau stumbled back a step and his men froze in place.

  “Now, I’m not a patient man,” I said, raising the gun and sweeping it over the half dozen or so men. “I tend to have a terrible temper when people get in my business, and Miri is my business.”

  Beau held his hands up by his shoulders. “Listen…” He licked his lips and fixed his gaze on the dull black metal I clutched in my hands. “She came here cryin’. Said she needed a place to stay, so I gave her the room above the garage.” He used his chin to point at the second floor of the building. “I don’t want no trouble, but I can’t let you hurt the girl, gun or no gun.” Beau’s gaze hardened and shifted from the Sig to my eyes.

  I had to admit, I respected the man. He was willing to go up against me to protect Miri, even with a weapon trained on him. Slowly, I lowered the Sig.

  “Crying? Over what?”

  Beau looked at his men and nodded his okay. They dispersed, going back in the garage, but none of them stopped watching the scene play out.

  “Fella, I got no idea. Figure it has somethin’ to do with you.”

  “Me?”

  What the fuck?

  “Anyway. She’s safe. I gave her the key. No one else has one, so nobody can git to her. She starts work on Monday.” Beau paused and gave me a knowing look. “Unless there’s gonna be trouble, then I’m afraid I can’t have her workin’ here.”

  Motherfucker. The slick bastard.

  He’d fire Miri if I didn’t lay off or made a nuisance of myself. Two months ago, speaking to me like that would have earned him a bullet between the eyes. He was damn lucky some of Miri rubbed off on me.

  “Shit.” I shoved the Sig back into the holster and rubbed my forehead, running the myriad of options over in my head. “Fine. Can I borrow a pen and paper?”

  Beau’s brows furrowed, but he led me over to a cluttered desk. “Here.” He handed me a scrap of paper and a pen. I scrawled out a quick note.

  “Give this to Miri.” My throat tightened as I held the folded paper over the desk. Beau stared at it for a second before hesitantly taking the note from my hand. “I’m not promising I won’t come back.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  Before I turned and left, I gave Beau a warning. “Don’t let anything happen to her. If she gets hurt, I won’t be as nice as I was today.”

  Beau’s eyes widened at my threat and he paled. “Buddy, I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

  Climbing on my bike and leaving Miri behind was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My eyes burned and my chest felt as if someone put a tight band around it. Somehow, I would find out what the fuck happened and bring Miri home.

  She was mine. She belonged to me, just like I belonged to her.

  Goddammit. I was in love with her.

  Miri

  I watched Jag climb back on the Ninja and fly out of the lot. Dust kicked up behind the bike and left a dense, cloudy trail to th
e main road. At first, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing—Jag, his face twisted and red with anger, holding an enormous gun on my new employer and coworkers. Then I remembered who Jag really was, what he did for a living, and it really wasn’t all that shocking.

  After seeing the playful, caring, sweet side of Jag, it was easy to forget he was also a selfish, violent criminal. He was Boss. Jag was merely an illusion I fell for like a stupid, naive kid, swept up into caring for the man who saved me.

  A knock on the apartment door pulled me from the window and my heart began to race.

  Jag left. No, that wasn’t Jag outside, holding a gun on my employer. Boss is the one who left.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Beau, Miri. Uh, someone… that guy… he uh, he left somethin’ for you.”

  Jag left something for me?

  I fumbled to unlock the door and yanked it open. Beau stood just outside, looming over me. His shirt was covered in sweat, transparent and sticking to him across his chest. He was flushed and more than a little freaked out.

  “Here.” His big hand held out a folded piece of paper. “You didn’t mention your boyfriend was a crazy-ass son of a bitch.”

  I took the note and locked eyes with Beau. He didn’t appear angry, more like cautious and trying to put some levity into what was a frightening situation. It wasn’t every day you had someone threaten you with a gun. Beau was also inspecting me head to toe, likely looking for signs of an abusive relationship.

  “He’s not really a bad guy.” The lie fell easily from my lips. “He’s just worried about me.”

  But only when he’s not busy fucking big-breasted blonde bimbos.

  I must have looked upset, because Beau frowned and gently patted my arm. “You okay? I can call the sheriff if you need me to. Have a report written up if this guy is a problem.”

  “No!” Beau jerked his hand back when I practically shouted my response. I breathed deep and tried to project calm. “I’m fine. He’s never hurt me… physically, that is. He would never do that. I just, I need to be on my own right now. I need some space to think.”

  “You don’t have to explain all that to me, Miri. I’m just makin’ sure you’re all right.”

  “I am. Thank you for being concerned. You don’t know how much it means to me.” Beau was the first person to care about me in forever. Except… Jag did care. Despite the blonde slut, or locking me in my room, or anything else he put me through, I knew Jag cared. He wouldn’t have gotten me off the H if he didn’t.

  Beau nodded. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll see you at work.” The man turned and stomped down the rickety staircase.

  I closed the door and slid to the floor with the note clenched in my trembling hand. I didn’t want to read Jag’s words, to allow him to suck me back into his world of lies and false promises. Yes, he helped me get off heroin and I’d always be grateful for that, but Jag wasn’t good for me. Unfortunately, my heart desperately wanted to know what he had to say, and of course, I was weak, so curiosity won out over rationale.

  I unfolded the paper and read the neat handwriting.

  Miri, I don’t know what I did or why you left, but it’s not safe for you to be out there alone. Please come back and we can talk. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, even if you don’t want anything between us anymore. I’m not giving up on you. Call me. Please.

  Jag

  A phone number was printed under his name.

  I stifled a sob and crumpled the paper in my hand. I didn’t know what the right thing to do was anymore. What did he mean I wasn’t safe? That I needed protection? Was Jag just saying those things to frighten me to get me to come back?

  I wouldn’t get the answers unless I called the number, and I wasn’t ready to do that yet. Exhausted and hungry, I grabbed a granola bar I bought at a gas station out of my bag and ate it before falling into a restless sleep on the bare floor.

  15

  Miri

  Bang, bang, bang!

  My head was pounding so hard it felt like drums were beating in a steady, unrelenting rhythm on my skull.

  Bang, bang, bang!

  With a groan, I rolled over. My entire body ached from spending the night on the floor.

  Bang, bang, bang!

  Okay, that definitely wasn’t my head. I lurched to a sitting position and froze. Someone was at the door. The apartment was almost pitch black. Only a faint hint of moonlight filtered through the curtains to cast eerie shadows on the walls.

  “Miri! Open the door.”

  My stomach dropped. It was Jag. Apparently, Beau’s threat wasn’t enough to keep him away. My stupid heart soared at the fact that Jag refused to back down. That he was fighting for me. That he didn’t give up on us. My brain, however, was tired and confused. So damn confused.

  “Miri! So help me god, I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it.”

  His raspy growl sent goose bumps across my skin and a chill down my spine that went straight to my core. I bit back a moan. The man was still able to affect me in ways no one else could. A loud crack split the silence.

  Oh my god. He’s actually breaking down the door.

  I scrambled to my feet and, with trembling hands, twisted the lock. No sooner had it clicked open than six feet three inches of incredibly pissed-off drug lord came barreling into the tiny apartment.

  Deep blue eyes locked onto mine. There was a split second where I saw genuine fear in them before Jag stepped forward and pulled me against his chest.

  “Fuck. I was so goddamn worried.” His lips brushed against the top of my head as I was held tightly in his arms. “Jesus, Miri. Why? Why did you leave?”

  Jag’s breath hitched as he spoke and I heard his voice crack. The sounds of his distress nearly broke me. He stepped back and held my face with his hands, warm and comforting and so familiar. Before I could respond, Jag’s lips crashed down on mine. He held back nothing and claimed my mouth in a hard, possessive kiss that left no question as to who owned whom.

  Despite my anger, I melted in his arms, incapable of protecting my heart from this man. Not even twenty-four hours away from him and it felt like years. I groaned into his mouth. The sound sent Jag into a frenzy. He slid his hands around my waist and tore my shirt over my head, seams ripping. My shorts followed, and I was naked in his arms. Jag bit and licked a path up my neck, whispering as he worshipped my skin, his voice shaky.

  “I need you, Miri. Why did you leave? You belong with me. You belong to me.”

  Jag thrust his muscular thigh between my legs and I whimpered at the crude contact. It was too much but at the same time, not nearly enough. Jag’s mouth was working the sensitive skin around my ear while I ground my pussy against his thigh. One of Jag’s hands pressed against my lower spine, while the other held the back of my head, angling it so Jag could get access to my neck.

  When his teeth found my earlobe and sank in, electric shocks sparked throughout my body and I cried out.

  “Off,” I rasped, frantically tugging at the fly of Jag’s jeans.

  He released me to yank his shirt over his head while I shoved down his jeans and briefs. Jag toed off his boots and removed his pants and socks and kicked everything to the side.

  “Need you,” he murmured. We collided back together, mouths and hands tasting and touching until my body, my very soul, was on fire.

  I reached between us and gripped his hard cock. Jag’s breath stuttered as I began to pump my hand up and down on the smooth, hot flesh.

  “Please, Jag. I need you inside me.”

  Jag batted my hand away and maneuvered us until my back hit the wall. His hands slid behind me and gripped my upper thighs. We worked together as if we’d done this a thousand times. Jag lifted and I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist. He positioned me above him and lowered me right onto his swollen cock.

  “Oh fuck, Miri.” I groaned as he cursed.

  Jag used his coiled power to thrust hard, impaling me with his thi
ck length, buried all the way inside my body. I moaned at the glorious stretch and burn of being filled so completely by this man. A man who owned my body and was frighteningly close to owning my heart. Jag began to rock his hips while holding me against the wall.

  My eyelids became heavy and tingling pressure built in my groin, coiling tight as the intense pleasure burned, igniting the blood in my veins. Jag’s mouth devoured mine again, our breaths coming faster as Jag drove into me with quick, powerful strokes.

  “Oh… oh God. Jag…” My head fell forward and I buried my face in his neck, gasping for air. Every inhalation flooded my senses with him—his sweat, his heat, his essence. I was completely surrounded by Jag, his body, his scent, his touch. We were connected inside and out, moving as one. Becoming one.

  “Jesus, Miri. I’m close…shit. You feel so goddamn good.”

  Jag lifted me higher, changing the angle of penetration, sending me soaring.

  “Oh my God. Yes! Jag… right there. I’m… I’m…”

  My breath was stolen as the pressure in my spine released and waves of ecstasy crashed over me. The orgasm tore through my body, a ripple of heat that began in my core and spread quickly, the force of it so strong every single muscle clenched tight as I cried out in pleasure.

  “God, yes. Fuck, Miri. So fucking good.”

  Jag pumped his hips a few more times and slammed in hard one last time. His head fell back, and the tendons of his neck protruding like tight cables, clearly visible in the soft light of the moon. He shouted his release, his fingers digging into my thighs as he came. I watched, entranced, as this gorgeous man flooded me with his hot cum. He was stunning. Breathtaking. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  When his final tremor ended, Jag crumpled forward and rested his chin on my shoulder. Our loud, heavy breathing was the only sound in the apartment. After a minute, Jag wrapped his arms around me and gently lowered me to the floor. My legs were weak and gave out.