Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4) (21 page)

Everything happened so fucking fast.

Overnight my life changed in the blink of an eye.

Physically…

Emotionally…

Mentally…

All because of the girl covered in tattoos with purple hair.

It had been five months since I’d left with her, leaving behind the shitty life I had become accustomed to. We had traveled to so many different places after Colombia. Seen so many different things. The sky was the limit. It was a reoccurring joke between us, every new place we went we had new passports, all new identities. Sometimes we would pretend to be newlyweds, madly in love with each other.

That was my favorite.

We played the roll too well. Almost forgetting it was a ploy. I didn’t fucking care, it always gave me an excuse to touch Briggs inappropriately in public. It changed everywhere we went and it was fucking hilarious coming up with new ideas with her. Never a dull moment. Not once.

But one thing was for sure.

One thing never changed…

We were friends.

Getting to know her was like waking up from a dream, like I had been sleeping my entire life. Just waiting for the moment she would come into my world and make me start living.

Which was the only way I could explain it and even that didn’t do it justice.

I knew I sounded like a goddamn pussy, but nothing compared to seeing the world through Briggs’ eyes. I realized pretty quickly that I hadn’t even started really traveling till she was by my side. It was supposed to be for business but we were having the time of our lives, partying, getting high, and meeting new people everywhere we went. She still didn’t get high off her own stash so she would buy from the suppliers before it officially became hers.

To see the world like that was surreal and it was all made possible because of her. Don’t get me wrong it wasn’t all fun and games. For the first three months, I worked my fucking ass off trying to make money anyway I could to support us. It was pretty easy since technically I was just a tourist passing through. Business owners loved that, being able to pay me under the table for a few days’ work.

If I wasn’t keeping Briggs safe with the shit she had to do, I was working on my own. There was no way in fucking hell that I was going to be dependent on her and I never wanted her to think I was using her for money.

She always told me she knew that wasn’t my motive for traveling with her, but she also didn’t want me to leave her side.  She missed me too much when I was gone even if it was only for a few hours in the day.

She hated it.

It was unreal how fast you could become attached to a person. Which was funny because all I ever wanted was to run away from my life and everyone in it, but there I was.

Wanting to spend an eternity in hers.

Briggs didn’t like to talk about the past. In fact, she refused to let me in to that part of her life, the part that led her up to this point in time. I respected her wishes but I didn’t like it. I figured over time she would open up to me when she was ready. I just had to be patient.

Her future was mine.

I knew I was her first real friend. She told me that often, and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t love that she chose me. Even though it made me sad for her, knowing how lonely that must had been. I was lucky in the sense that I grew up with Alex and the boys, even though we weren’t on speaking terms now. I still managed to send my parents and Half-Pint a postcard every once in awhile.

I knew Briggs worked for Alejandro Martinez but not because his name came out of her mouth. The business associates, as she called them, said his name often. It was hard for me to follow since they mostly spoke in Spanish. It was a nice fucking surprise the first time I heard her speak it so damn fluently.

I jacked-off in the shower like a fucking thirteen-year-old boy when we got back to the hotel that afternoon. Remembering the sexy-as-fuck tone of her voice as she was talking to the men. I pictured her face the entire time and came so fucking hard I saw stars.

One night, two months ago, after working with a construction company for a few days, I came back to the hotel and she was smiling like a fool. Of course I walked over to her and caught her expression in the air, placing it on my heart. That had become our thing. And it always made her smile even bigger, lighting up her entire face. It was the first time I ever saw her so fucking happy, and I didn’t even know the cause, but I didn’t care.

The look on her face was all that mattered to me.

She pulled me on the couch next to her and told me I didn’t have to leave her anymore. I was ready to tell her the same shit I had been saying for the last three months. But she interrupted me, placing her finger over my lips to silence me. She continued telling me that she got me a job with Martinez. That I was officially her bodyguard and before I had any time to react to what she just shared.

There was a knock on the door.

A man named Pablo showed up with a suitcase full of clothes, suits, shoes, everything I needed and things I most likely wouldn’t ever wear. They were all packed neatly waiting to be used. He handed me an envelope with a letter from Martinez and then a briefcase. The letter stated that everything I needed was in the briefcase, including a business debit card that I had to use for everything. It already had twelve thousand dollars on it. He called it back pay for the last three months for protecting Briggs. He went on to say he would be paying me a thousand dollars a week on that card for my services of being her bodyguard.

All I kept thinking was that I would have continued doing it for free.

I opened the briefcase and found two passports, and the business credit card he mentioned before. There was some other shit in there that I wasn’t sure what to do with. What caught my attention though were the two 9mm guns. One was secured in a black leather suspender holster and the other in what seemed like an ankle holster. Both guns had permits that matched the names on the passports in the briefcase. Luckily, I knew how to use a gun.

Most Southern boys do.

Everything in that briefcase was a lie. Every last document was fake but looked so fucking authentic. So fucking real. There wasn’t a chance in Hell anyone would spot them as fakes.

Briggs was so fucking happy. So, I didn’t think twice about it, I started working for Martinez because all I wanted to do.

Was keep her safe.

From that point on out we only stayed at five-star hotels. Partying with some of the richest, most corrupt people in the world and I was having the time of my life. Working for Martinez came with instant respect, money, power, everything I never had before.

But always wanted.

All of it was new and exciting. I didn't give my new job a second thought. All the luxuries outweighed the fact that I was working for a drug lord.

Although Briggs called it organized crime, she said Martinez was involved in everything and anything. It wasn’t just about the drugs. That what we worked in it was just an aspect of what he ran and controlled.

A new briefcase was waiting for me at each new location we traveled to, sometimes it would be in the limo that picked us up from the airports and other times it would be waiting for me in our room. Out with the old, in with the new every goddamn time. New clothes, new documents, new passports, new guns with permits, everything we needed without batting a fucking eye.

Each day was a new day with Briggs by my side.

Life couldn’t have been better.

We were lying on the bed with our legs entwined, our bodies next to each other, watching a movie in the hotel. I kept blowing raspberries on her neck, she was thrashing around like crazy, shrieking from the pleasure and pain it brought her.

She loved it.

She just loved to pretend like she didn’t.

“Austin! Stop!” She laughed uncontrollably.

Desperately trying to hold back my face, knowing it didn’t matter. I would stop when I wanted to.

And I didn’t want to.

She sideswiped my arms and was tickling under my chin and around my neck before I even saw it coming.

“Ohhhh, little girl, that’s a way to get hurt,” I threatened, grabbing her arms and locking them above her head.

I hated my neck being touched, too many years of being tortured as a child by my family members thinking it was funny to tickle my neck for entertainment.

My body was now on top of hers and I saw it immediately. Her eyes glazed over and her pupils dilated. Revealing the look of lust that I had grown so accustom to.

It had been five months since I left with her and all we did was talk, cuddle, and flirt relentlessly with each other. I couldn’t remember the last time I went this long without having sex, and yet it didn’t fucking bother me. Not one bit. What Briggs and I shared was deeper than any piece of pussy could ever offer me. Not that I didn’t want to bury my cock deep inside her.

She was everything. 

She bit her lip, waiting for what I was going to do next. I hadn’t kissed her since the night on her balcony. That one kiss was all I had to hold me over.

“What’s your name?” I rasped, feeling the effect she always had on me.

I’d probably asked her like fifty times up until that point and each time she changed the subject or she would blatantly lie to me and say “Briggs.”

As the months went by, I learned more and more about her. How she would bite her lip when she was nervous, like she was doing right now. How she would never leave the hotel without wearing makeup, her hair was always down and flowing around her face. How the clothes she wore were always revealing, but it wasn’t because she wanted to show off her body.

It was the tattoos.

For some reason she wanted them on full display. It wasn’t to show off her ink. It was her way of sharing a piece of her soul with the world she tried to keep at bay.

One of the first things that caught me by surprise was how much she loved to read. Each night it was a new book. The innocence about her exposed every time she told me about the characters and the storylines, as if they were her friends or she was living vicariously through them. She beamed while she read and I could tell what was happening in the book based off her expressions. Especially if something bad was happening, she would place her hand over her heart. Like she was trying to hold it together.

Briggs also had sad moments. Her reflect time was what I called it. The way she would get lost in her own mind when she thought I wasn’t looking. How she would pretend to be sleeping when she knew I was watching her sleep.

Getting lost in her beauty.

These were just to name a few, and even though I cherished every new thing I learned about her, it wasn’t what I craved.  

And the crazy thing about that was she knew it.

“Austin…” she pleaded for me to stop insisting on knowing her truths.

I wouldn’t until I knew them.

Every. Last. One.

“These last five months have been the best days of my life. Being with you.”

She swallowed hard, her resistance wavering.

“No one has ever made me feel the way you do. You have the ability to bring me to my knees with just a look. You’re my drug, my addiction. I know that Briggs is a part of you. I know she exists but I also know that she doesn’t. Tell me your name. And I’ll give you everything you’ve been dreaming about.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth parted.

“You talk in your sleep. You also kind of snore.”

“I don’t snore.” She tried to slap my chest but I caught her hand mid-swing.

“It’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.”

She sighed, revealing her internal struggle. “You’re my friend, Austin. My only friend. Trust me… I’ve let you in.”

I leaned in close to her face, our mouths a few inches apart with our connection never breaking. I didn’t falter and whispered, “I want to be your friend that makes you come. I want you in my bed. More than you’ll ever know. Just tell me your name…”

She looked deep into my eyes and lied,

“My name is Briggs.”

“Austin, why don’t you ever take your shirt off unless we’re in our hotel room?” Briggs asked, looking over at me from the kitchen where she was making us some food.

I could see her out the corner of my eyes but didn’t look up to acknowledge her question. I was sitting on the couch adjacent to her with my notebook in my hands.

“Hmm…” I replied, barely paying any attention.

I was too caught up, my hand bleeding against the page.

“Your shirt? You don’t have a shirt on right now. You don’t even take it off when we’re at the beach or the pool. You barely wear one when we’re in our hotel rooms. So, I’m asking you the reason for that?”

I closed my notebook and set it beside me. I hadn’t shared my talent with her yet.  She knew what my notebook was for. It was kind of hard to hide something from someone you have been with for seven months. But I hadn’t shown her any sketches yet. I wasn’t ready to let her into that part of my life, especially since she had yet to tell me her name.

She also wasn’t ready to see them.

I gave up on asking her what her real name was. Mainly because I was tired of getting disappointed and having her blatantly lie to my face. A man could only take so much let down. I think it bothered her that I stopped asking. She was getting lost in thought more often than ever before.

I grinned. “Are we sharing sad stories now, baby?”

She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at me.

“I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours,” I added.

She sighed, looking back down at the food she was preparing. Lost in thought again.

“That’s what I thought," I said under my breath.

I grabbed my notebook, walking toward the bathroom to shower.

“Austin,” she called out behind me, making me turn to face her.

“You can pick any tattoo on my body, except your favorite and I will tell you what it means," she said, gesturing up and down her body, wiggling her eyebrows.

I smiled, big and wide.

She was trying to make light of the serious situation. I watched her eyes go exactly where I wanted them, to the notebook in my hands. She wanted to know what I drew in there, probably as much as I wanted to know what her real name was.

I gravitated towards her like a magnet. My feet moved on their own accord, following the pounding rhythm of her heart that I knew was racing, fast and hard.

For me.  

I couldn’t get to her fast enough. The anticipation was alive and breathing all around me, guiding me toward a little part of her that she was finally willing to share. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was a step in the right direction. Each stride brought me closer to her before I finally broke the distance between us.

Her eyes were silently begging me to touch her.

To feel her.

My thumb swiped over her plump bottom lip and within seconds I was pulling it out from between her teeth. Taking a moment to trace along the soft, wet skin. It didn’t take long for the tip of her tongue to graze against my finger.

I loved the effect I had on her.

Her eyes dilated.

My cock twitched.

I threw my notebook on the counter. Slowly gliding my thumb down to her clavicle bone, never losing contact with her skin. She stirred when she felt me caress, back and forth along the cursive writing tattooed in a language I didn't recognize.

“This one,” I simply stated, eyeing her cautiously.

She blinked, her eyes immediately filling with tears.

I frowned, waiting for her to share a piece of her soul with me. It took everything inside me to tell her that she didn't have to do this.

But I needed her to.

That outweighed the turmoil it was causing her.

She shook her head, struggling to let the meaning leave her lips. “It’s in Spanish. It means February 21st.”

My eyebrows lowered as I stared intently into her eyes. Waiting for her to continue.

“It’s the day I died, Austin. It’s the day the girl you think is still inside me,” she placed her hand over the tattoo, “the one you keep asking for her name. Died.”

I jerked back, shocked as shit. I wasn't expecting that at all. I stepped away from her, roughly running my hands through my hair. Wanting to tear it the fuck out. I needed a second to comprehend what she just shared. It knocked the fucking wind right out of me, and I was finding it hard to breathe.

What the fuck?

Tears started to slide down her beautiful face, one right after the other. Falling onto her white shirt, leaving a trail of her pain. I used the same thumb I’d been using to stir sensations from her body a minute ago, to wipe away her tears.

They belonged to me now.

“Austin, please say something,” she wept, overwhelmed by her truth and my silence.  

“Jesus Christ, Briggs…” I breathed out, just as overwhelmed from her truth.

She grimaced not understanding my reaction.

“I fucking hate my scars. They’re a part of me. A part that I can never get rid of, they’re forever etched in my skin.”

“Austin…” she coaxed, her heart breaking for me. “You’re beautiful. You—”

I placed my thumb over her lips, silencing her. It was still wet from her tears. She looked up at me, her big blue eyes so full of sadness for me and I hated that even more.

I didn’t want her sympathy.

I didn’t fucking deserve it.

“I hate people staring at me. Asking themselves ‘What happened to him?’ Feeling fucking sorry for me,” I paused, letting my words sink in. “I don’t know how this is even fucking possible, but on the exact same date you died, Briggs. I almost died too. Except that’s not the reason why I fucking hate my scars. I hate them because all they do is remind me every day that I almost killed my best friend too.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh my God,” she rasped, her voice breaking as much as her resolve. Her head shook fervently.

I couldn’t tell if it was from the fact that something life changing happened to both of us on the same date or the truth I just revealed.

She pressed her hand against her forehead, bowing her head. Like she had just been suddenly struck with a splitting headache.

“Briggs, I was in a car—”

She put her hand out in front of her, silencing me. “ stories, Austin,” she interrupted. Giving me a look I hadn’t ever seen before. “I can’t hear anymore.”

I didn’t falter. “For now, Briggs… no more sad stories,
for now
.”

She peeked up at me through her lashes and spoke with conviction, “Fuck sad stories.”

With that she turned away from me and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I wanted to go after her, I wanted to hold her and take away her pain.

And for the first time since the car accident, I wanted her to take my pain away too.

I grabbed two pain pills, swallowing them down with no water. They burned my dry throat going down, but I welcomed the distraction. Seconds later, I heard the shower turn on and soft crying echoed through the room. It killed me that she was crying, that our sad stories could affect her that much. The tough-girl exterior gone, replacing it with the girl that I knew still lived inside her.

The same girl whose name she wouldn’t tell me.

All I could do was hope that one day.

She would.

I let her have her space. Grabbing my notebook from the counter, I went back to the couch, taking out all my frustrations and sadness on blank paper. I don’t know how long I sat there engrossed in my truths, when I finally heard the bathroom door open.

She walked toward me immediately and grabbed my hand. “Come on.” Without another word, I set my notebook aside and followed her.

We drove in silence in the car. Both of us lost in our thoughts. I didn’t even care where she was taking me, too caught up in the irony and fate of it all. She parked the car on the street, pulling up the parking brake. It was then that I looked around the building.

“Where are we?”

She opened the door and turned looking me dead in my eyes. “To make your sad story a happy one.”

“What—”

She stepped out of the car before I could even finish. She was on a mission as I followed close behind her up to the door. She opened it and walked inside. I threw down my cigarette, stepping on it to put it out.

“Jose!” she called out to the guy in the back as soon as the door closed behind me.  

He turned and smiled as soon as he saw her.

“Briggs! My girl!”

He was over to her in three strides, pulling her into his arms. She laughed, smiling over at me from above his shoulder. He pulled away first, peering back at me.

“Hey, man.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jose.”

I shook it. “Austin.”

“You hanging out with trouble over here?” he asked, nodding toward her.

“Something like that,” I chuckled.

“Hey, I bring you a new client, and you give me shit,” she laughed.

“Client?” I broke in, still so fucking confused with the turn of events.

“Come on.” Grabbing my hand she led me to a table.

She sat me down and it was then I realized we were in a tattoo shop. She squatted down in front of me, sitting on the balls of her feet and once again looked deep into my eyes as she spoke with conviction, “Pick a scar, Austin. Turn your pain into something fucking beautiful.”

And I did.