Her dim eyes light with anger. “Why would you—? Who do you think you—?” The cutest little growl comes from her throat and she stands, dislodging my arms from her waist. She begins to pace in front of me. “Listen, I know I didn’t make a big deal about you when you first started watching me. But shit! It’s creepy when you think about it. I don’t understand why I don’t feel unsafe around you, but I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that you saved me from that asshole who tried to rape me.” An emotion I’m not used to feeling settles over me. Guilt. She continues, “I need you to know that I’m currently in a state of freaked the fuck out. I won’t lie. You’re intriguing and attractive…well…gorgeous. And I was hoping to get to know you better. But now…” She stops her pacing to look into my eyes and says quietly, “…now I’m not so sure.”
Women are complicated creatures. I don’t know what to do with this information. It seems useless to me, but something deep in my gut tells me to listen to her.
Her shaking hands come together and she wrings them. “I need to go. And be away from you. I have a lot on my mind, and even though I like you in a weird way, you’re…” She swallows hard. “…I don’t think you’re good for me, Twitch.”
My lip curls, and before I can think of a response, the door clicks shut.
I’ve lost her.
As soon as I spy a smiling Happy at the bottom of the stairs, he takes one look at my face and his smile is replaced with a look of worry. Meeting me at the very last step, he wraps a large arm around my shoulders and I’m overcome with emotion. Gripping his lapel, I cry into his chest as he leads me through the back of the house to where a car is waiting.
He ushers me in, gives the driver my address, then says to me sadly, “Not everyone can be a fairy-tale hero.” He pauses a moment, then adds, “The world needs villains too.”
The car drives me home. I shower, then dress for bed.
I make an effort to text Nikki and Dave to let them know I’m home because I’m not feeling that great, and to party on without me.
Turning on my CD player and sliding under the covers, my last thought before I drift to sleep is how much I’m going to miss Twitch.
Stooping to a level I never thought I’d reach, I contemplate my current position.
My mind’s only excuse for what I’m doing is that I’m doing this for Lexi.
She needs me.
I need her.
I ignore my mind’s voice.
Because it’s wrong.
My bed dips, a tall body slides in behind me, and a strong arm comes around my waist, pulling me back into warmth.
My heart begins to race.
That’s when I smell his cologne.
I ask sleepily, “What are you doing here?”
Kissing my shoulder for a solid minute, he replies, “Ssssh. The more talking you do, the less time you’re thinking. So think, Angel. I’m just gettin’ some sleep.”
My heart stupidly swells.
He made an effort. He’s making an effort. Something tells me this is a big deal.
Leaning back into him, I whisper, “You’re not going to let me go, are you?”
Burying his face into my hair, he breathes me in and orders, “Sleep. Now.”
Unable to stop myself, I link my fingers with his at my hip and fall into a deep, restful slumber.
My brain at ease.
My heart content.
Today is not going well.
Turning left at the hall to get to Lexi’s office, I stop short when I hear a raised voice.
My brow furrows.
“You just don’t get it, Miss Ballentine! I have reasons. I can’t tell you what they are. You’re just going to have to trust me!” This comes from a young man. From the sounds of him, I’d say an adolescent.
Lexi shoots back, “Trust you like you obviously trust me?” Sarcasm drips from her voice.
I stand by the doorway and listen in on the heated exchange.
“Michael, you can’t keep cutting school like this. Mr Gilbert called me four times last week to let me know you’ve been tardy, and I’m seriously not happy with lying to your principal.” A pause, then more softly, “We had a deal. You keep your phone on you so I can contact you at all times. You really have no idea how much freedom I’m giving you, sweetie. Would you like to know why I treat you differently?”
I peek in.
Michael keeps his face lowered, arms crossed over his chest, chin squared in teenaged-defiance, while Lexi scoots closer to him and says quietly, “It’s because you’re smart, Mickey. I’ve been your case worker for two years now and I know smart when I see it. I also know that people are going to do what they can to make life easier, so I have to tell you how disappointed I am that Sam saw you the other day.”
Michael’s eyes widen, head still lowered. He shifts around nervously and swallows hard.
Lexi’s sadness sounds through her voice. “I thought you weren’t going to deal anymore. We had an agreement.”
Michael stays quiet a long time before he whispers, “Sometimes good people have to do bad things. It’s nothing personal. It’s just life, Miss Ballentine.”
Geez. That’s rough. But he hit the nail right on the head.
I’ve decided I like this kid. And Lexi was right; he is smart.
Reacting without thinking, I stride into the office. Lexi looks up and her eyes widen. She smiles warmly before her face turns to stunned disbelief. Rushing over to me, she hisses, “What are you doing here?”
Placing a hand up to stop her from talking, I move to stand in front of Michael. “Stand up, boy.”
Still sitting with his arms crossed, he looks me up and down with a curled lip before rolling his eyes and standing with a huff.
I ask, “How old are you?”
Looking to the side playing the I’m so uninterested that I’m getting distracted card, he replies, “I’ll be seventeen next week.”
“You need money?”
His face snaps up to mine.
Yeah.
I know desperation when I see it.
I state, “You need money.” Making a snap decision, I tell him, “You just quit dealing. Tell Frank or Hamid that you’re not dealing anymore. You tell them that you work for Twitch now and they won’t give you shit.”
Michael’s eyes widen comically, obviously shocked that I know the name of two of Sydney’s biggest dealers. He stutters, “Wh-wh-why? You don’t even know me. Why would you hire me?”
Not missing a beat, I respond, “’Cause Lexi’s right. You’re too fucking smart to be a low-time drug dealer on the streets of Sydney. Come work for me and we’ll turn you into something better. You won’t be doing anything great at the start, but you got to start somewhere.”
He eyes the tattoos on my neck, then looks down at the tattoos on my hands. His eyes move back up to my face and I know he’s looking at the small thirteen tattooed on my cheek bone.
He’s caving. And quick. I guess I expected more of a fight from him.
I ask firmly, “You in or out? ‘Cause if you’re out, I’ll just let you know that you’ll never get another opportunity like this again. I look after my employees, Michael, that’s why they don’t leave me.”
Michael looks unsure for a second. He asks, “What’s in it for you?”
My lip twitches.
Smart kid. I knew I liked him.
“A young employee who likes to learn. Someone with a fresh, untainted mind that I can teach without having to unteach the shit you’ve been taught. An employee who will work his way up. An employee who might even be me one day.”
Michael’s eyes have become both hopeful and wistful, and I know I’ve got him.
He nods and I smile gently, “Good.” Handing him a business card, I explain, “This is your new workplace. You’ll come every day after school and work with me ‘til eight PM. I’ll take you home myself, so you don’t need to worry about that. If, at the end of the year, you decide working with me is some place yo
u see yourself in the future, you can quit school and I’ll pay for furthering your education through TAFE or university. Sound good?”
His face holds a look of disbelief and he nods slowly. Looking at his clothes, I tell him, “And dress nice, Michael.”
His face falls and I could smack myself.
That was insensitive.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my wallet. I take out five hundred-dollar bills and place them in his hand. “Like I was saying. Dress nice. And get a haircut too. You look like a freakin’ hippy.”
Dumbfounded.
That’s the only word I could use to explain his expression.
He blinks down at the money, gripping it tightly. Recovering quickly, he says, “Thank you…”
“Twitch,” I offer, then quickly add, “But you’ll call me Mr. T.”
Looking up at me, he utters, “Thanks, Mr. T. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”
I offer a small piece of my true self when I threaten, “You won’t disappoint me, Michael. It would be very stupid of you to disappoint me.”
Looking a little fearful, he says quietly, “Yes, sir.”
Yes, sir.
I like that. This was a good idea.
“And if you have the slightest inkling that you’re going to be late, even by a minute…” I wait to make sure he’s listening. He nods quickly for me to continue. “…You call me and you call Miss Ballentine. I don’t care what time of night or day it is. You fucking call. Got it?”
He nods vigorously. Wanting to put him at ease, I place a hand on his head and ruffle his scraggly brown hair. “Okay, boy. You’re dismissed. See you Monday.”
With his eyes to the money in his hand, he picks up his school bag and walks out of the office, closing the door behind him.
I inhale deeply, then exhale slowly, hoping that I somehow haven’t made the wrong decision.
The boy is smart. He’s quick with his words but has respect. He’ll do nicely.
“What was that?” Ah. Lexi.
Fiddling with a cuff link, I tell her, “You were here, babe. Just gave the boy a job.”
Walking across the office, she stands toe-to-toe with me.
And it makes me smile. A real smile.
She’s so small. With her hands on her hips and her face bunched, she looks pissed at me. I don’t know why she’d be pissed at me, but her stance has me a little worked up.
My eyes flash.
Sitting on the edge of her desk, I spread my knees apart and demand, “Come here, Lexi.”
Bending at the waist, she whisper-hisses, “No! I will not come here, Lexi just because you said so! What I’m still struggling with is why you just gave my seventeen-year-old two-year case a job when I don’t want him dealing!”
Back up.
Folding my arms across my chest, I lean back and study the floor, pursing my lips.
“You think I gave Michael a job dealing drugs for me?” I peek up at her through furrowed brows.
Her eyes lose some steam and her stance weakens. “Well, I did. Until you said that.” Reaching up, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Dammit, now I’m just confused.”
Adorable. No shit.
“Babe, I gave that boy a job. A legit job. He needs the money for something, and he’s desperate enough to turn to the streets. Not gonna happen now. He’ll shadow me and be somewhat of a PA for me. You said it yourself, he’s smart. He needs something better than dealing. And I promise, if he sticks with me, I’ll take care of him. He’ll go to school and get a degree. He’ll be better off working for me.”
Her face has softened, but her eyes are still wary. Rolling her eyes, she asks sarcastically, “So, what? You’re just going to hire all my kids now?”
I immediately ask in all seriousness, “Would that make you happy?”
‘Cause I’d fucking do it.
For her, I’d do it.
Not answering, she shakes her head and her face becomes sweet again. “I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions and it was really shitty of me. I’m glad Michael is working for you rather than dealing. It was a nice thing to do. So, thank you, Twitch.”
Patting the inside of my knee, I demand once more, “Come here, Lexi.”
Looking me in the eye, she takes two steps forward to stand in-between my legs. Leaning forward, I brush the tip of my nose against hers and whisper, “You really happy about this, or you just sayin’ that?”
Her eyes close, she rubs the tip of her nose to mine again, and says huskily, “I’m really, really happy.”
I make a soft growling noise in my throat.
This little woman turns me on something fierce.
“So you’re grateful?” She opens her eyes and nods. Leaning back from her, I watch her through my hooded gaze and ask very slowly, “Grateful enough to suck my tongue?”
Her breath hitches and her eyes flash the brightest of blues.
I smile big.
She likes that.
Leaning closer, I lower my face to hers until our noses meet. Opening my mouth, I run my tongue along her lower lip. Her lips part a little and I slide my tongue into her mouth. And she sighs.
She fucking sighs.
As if my tongue was a fucking gift. The best gift she’s ever gotten.
Her lips close around my tongue and she sucks very, very gently. My already painfully-hard cock jerks in my pants. I’m craving her. I want to touch her, but this is about her showing me gratitude. My fingers curl around the edges of her desk to stop myself from kissing her back.
She sucks a little harder. Her lips are heavenly. Her hands come up to cup my cheeks, and tilting her head slightly, she sucks even harder, going so deep that our lips meet.
This is the single most erotic experience of my life.
A mewing sound escapes her and I pull back. Beautifully flushed, her eyes flutter open and I lick my lips.
I taste strawberry lip gloss.
Clearing my throat, I utter, “Gratitude displayed. Now thank me, baby.”
Asking her to thank me for letting her suck my tongue is a bit much, I’ll admit that, but she blinks before saying softly, almost dreamily, “Thank you, Twitch.”
And my cock nearly explodes.
I need to get out of here. Buttoning up my jacket, I stand. “Got shit to do, babe. I’ll call.”
Returning to her usual self, she smiles, “No. You won’t.”
Smiling back, I respond, “No. I won’t.”
Then I turn on my heel and walk away from the girl of my dreams.
Leaving Lexi’s office, I make it back to work in time for Happy to pull me aside for a rare moment of privacy. “You sort things with the girl?”
Staring him down, I search his face. My lip curls.
What the fuck is it to him?
When he catches my glare, he matches it. “Don’t look at me like that. It is my business because it’s your business. Do you remember that I own this fucking company too? Remember why you came to me for that reason? You’re too impulsive. Unhinged, even. And you know it. I just want to protect my investment. I won’t let you fuck things up for me, man. Love you like a brother, but I won’t let you do that.”
Won’t let… Won’t let me?
Taking a step towards him, fire in my eyes, he places something into my hand. Part of me begs the angry part to let it go. But the angry part…it always wins. Glancing at the business card, fury makes my brain scramble. Lifting my fist, I punch my friend square in the mouth. Stumbling back, he falls flat on his ass. Ignoring my throbbing knuckles, I shake my hand a moment to relieve the pain, then flick the business card onto his chest.
My eyes focusing on the blood dripping from the side of his mouth, I ball my hands into fists and count to ten to stop myself from attacking a second time. And a third time. My head pounds with the need to do just that. “Don’t need to talk to a fucking quack, friend.” I say friend in a way that makes it sound like he’s anything but. “I’m fine. I’m fucking great.”
&nbs
p; Happy stands, takes out a handkerchief from his shirt pocket, and dabs at his bloody lip, panting. “That’s exactly why you need to see someone, bro.” We stare at each other. “You’re not fine. I don’t think you’ve been fine a day in your life.”
Happy is my friend, but he’s also a pain in my ass. Turning to allow myself a moment to calm the beast that resides in my head, I breathe deeply. “No quack. Subject closed. What’s on the agenda today?”
He responds immediately, “Damage control. Warehouse A.”
My brow lifts. A sadistic smile appears on my face.
Looks like I’ll be able to take out my anger on someone after all.
Sitting on a five dollar fold out chair from a hardware store, my anger builds watching the traitor who tries in vain to cover his story. But he lies.
I know lies. I’m the king of lies. And his are grating my nerves.
Happy kicks his knees out. He falls forward into a kneeling position.
The middle-aged, plump cronie shakes while pleading, “Mr. T, please, don’t do this. My family, they—”
He bites his tongue upon mentioning his family. As if I’ll go after them.
The guy doesn’t know me at all. That’s not my style.
Reaching into the back of my slacks, I pull out my .32 calibre semi-auto. She’s a beauty, but my .45 is my favorite. I won’t use my baby on this piece of shit though. I don’t want her dirtied by his filthy blood.
Looking down, right into his eyes, I hold his stare.
Using the barrel of the gun to scratch at my temple absentmindedly, I ask a second time, “What did you tell Hamid, Patrick? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because photographs don’t lie. And the way he shook your hand and smiled like he’d won the fucking lottery, I know you told him something.” He trembles and cries. Snot runs down his nostrils and into his mouth. “Nothing? You won’t tell me?”
Standing, I take two steps towards him and sigh at the pitiful state of him. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just business.”
Raising the barrel of the gun to his forehead, I breathe deeply and close my eyes.