Disengaged: A Dangerously Forbidden Love Affair (4 page)

FOUR

This time, he didn’t have to tell me to hold on, I would’ve been a fool not to. He had to have been going nearly a hundred miles per hour, and half the time he wasn’t even using a legit road. At first, we raced along the tracks, then through warehouse after warehouse parking lot—sometimes through them. Then he moved on to racing down every back alley my father told me to never go near.

From the outside looking in, this side of the city seemed like a ghost town, a shell of what once was. Like the buildings were just waiting for a developer to find the patience and cash to come in and kick out the squatters then tear it all down, to make it new again. But even I could sense the stares landing on me, the ones coming from the dark shadows of everything we passed. To say the least, I was abundantly grateful for the helmet and tinted visor I was sporting. I had hoped that no one would give me a second thought once I figured out how to unwind myself from this drama.

Most of our ride, I was sure we would be pulled over or shot at any second. But the law we did see pretended not to see us, much like the ordinary, everyday working people did. The thugs and every other shady ass in the city noticed us, though. Some glared, others did the classic guy nod. A few even plastered a sick grin across their face.

The women were the worst, or should I say the hoes. Not one of them had a pleasant expression on their face. They made the whore I found Slayton with seem as innocent as a summer’s rain. I knew if he stopped the bike, I was a dead girl. Which only made him even more of a contradiction. Why would he lay some silent claim on me in front of his people, then display me like a fresh kill to the rest of this dark underworld that I was being introduced to?

After our tour of the dark side, he pulled up outside a corner deli. He didn’t ask me to get off. Instead, he sat up then halfway looked back at me like I was slow or some shit. I dismounted, hating the feeling in my legs as they wobbled searching for balance. I stumbled like the inexperienced rider I was, but no one watching would have assumed I had. His arms opened and he pulled me against him making it seem as if I meant to fall onto him, embrace him. He even leaned his head down, whispering a kiss across my shoulder as he pulled the helmet off with one hand as the other kept my balance. I should’ve expected it, and I shouldn’t have felt the same virgin-like zing of desire swarm through my body, but it still happened when his lips brushed across mine, and I felt his breath feather down my neck as he pulled me against him before he stood.

My stare questioned him as I gained my balance once more, silently asking who we were putting on a show for. When no quick answer came, when he stared into my eyes like they were the deepest mystery he’d every crossed, I found my nerve and spoke.

“What are we doing?” I asked, inwardly patting myself on the back for the fact I’d managed to ditch both the tremble and stutter in my voice.

He didn’t say a word. Instead, he linked his fingers through mine then led me into the deli. Inside, every head turned, and I swear all conversation halted for precious seconds until everyone decided to act like they had not been gawking at both of us.

Helmet, please!

Slayton’s slow stride, with our fingers still entwined, led us to the deli bar. He nodded to the lady behind the counter then held up two fingers.

When she moved away, and the bustle of the deli picked back up, I went to ask one of the millions of questions I had on the tip of my tongue, but he moved his head to the side, a halfway ‘no,’ but he may as well have shouted it. Long seconds later, I tried to glance around and see the threat that apparently I was ignorant of, the one he was zoned in on.

Or at least I assumed he was. For the most part, he was watching the TV behind the bar, a re-run of a seventies sitcom. Once, and only once, I saw what might have been called a grin twitch on his lips, and it came when the older woman put my plate before me, and then his in front of him. She patted his hand in a motherly way, filled our water glasses, then went back to tending to the others.

I stared down at my soup and sandwich lost in myself. I didn’t want to eat right then. I wanted to go home. No, I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to go back a year in my life, find myself in my grandmother’s kitchen. I wanted to see her smile as I told her about all the stupid bullshit I’d been up to. Guy problems. Girl problems. Childish complaints. I wanted to go back to a world where the monsters lived in my imagination, and there wasn’t a single danger that was permitted to cross my path.

When my eyes came back into focus, seconds before I shed another tear for the grandmother—mother—I’d lost, I found a spoonful of steaming soup just before my lips.

Was he feeding me? Seriously?

Hesitantly, I blew the steam away then took what he was offering. I was sure it was all part of the show he was wordlessly forcing me to play. It was the temperate look in his eyes that told me maybe we were safe just then, that I could trust him. The gray was soft, the tension in his jaw was lax, and his upper lip was daring to shudder into what I was sure would be a heart-stopping grin.

If he grinned, I was done for. I was sure of it. I was the one flinching a grin as I dropped my gaze and started to work through the meal he’d given me. We sat in silence, watching the TV, eating so slowly you’d swear it was our last meal, until long after dark.

He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket then nodded for me to stand. I eyed the bathroom in the back. Reading my glance he nudged me that way. Each booth I passed had at least one person look up at me shyly, some with a mixture of jealousy and disdain. Boldly, like I knew what the hell I was freaking doing, I pulled my shoulders back and stared them down as I went about my way.

I was quicker this time in the bathroom, but I still made sure I took the precious moments to calm my thoughts down. This silent game between him and me had gone on long enough. I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea for me to relax in his presence. Doing so was making this ‘crush’ blossoming deep inside of me all the more painful to fathom. Any fool could see this boy and me in no way would or could ever fit together, not for long.

The only thing crazier than falling for this dark, silent, dangerous boy was the fact that I was already mourning his departure from my life. Hoping it wasn’t as sudden and unexpected as his arrival.

When my courage was properly built, I made my way back to the dining room. I knew he wasn’t in there long before my questioning gaze touched on every soul there. His commanding presence, the zing I constantly felt in the air was gone, and I swear the absence of it made the world seem colder, bigger, and just as lonely as it was seconds before I saw Slayton for the first time.

The lady who had served us smiled warmly at me then leaned her head toward the front window. The twist in my gut, the heat in my cheeks, the anticipation bubbling in my veins, would’ve made you think it had been days since I’d seen him.

Hopefully, hiding my reaction to him from the world, I moved as casually as I could toward him. The city had come to life outside. The lights were so bright they were blinding, the cars rushing by, the trains, they all seemed to roar. The people weren’t much quieter, droves of them were moving down each side of the street. Only half of them were looking up at where they were going, who was around. The others were lost in their devices.

Slayton was leaned against the brick wall outside the deli, smoking, completely ignoring the looks that were coming his way. I assumed he was waiting on me so I edged closer to the bike but he just barely shook his head no.

I missed words, the art of conversation, I really did.

It was a miracle I picked up on half his gestures, ones I was sure I’d be blind to if I wasn’t so acutely aware of every inch of him. He didn’t have to say a word, but I knew he wanted me to stand next him. So I did, a moment later he casually pulled me to him, his arm rested across my belly as my back pressed into his chest. Intimate and unnerving at once.

When I saw someone approach his bike, lifting the compartment on the back, I moved, sure that he was about to attack. He didn’t, he let them do it, he even looked away while they did. When Slayton realized I was looking over my shoulder at him, those damn lips of his landed on mine, and I fought the same head-swimming, anticipation building sensations all over again. Even the stench of smoke on his lips could not stifle the glory of his touch.

A slow wink was the only answer I received from my searching stare, and then he resumed his people watching. It was a good half hour before another shady guy came about and did the same as the one before. This time, I acted like I wasn’t paying attention either. And no, I did not look back and score another kiss from him. A girl could only take so many spikes of adrenaline over a short span of time.

Maybe twenty minutes after the last drop he laced his fingers through mine then pulled me to his bike. I put the helmet on and mounted the bike without direction from him. You’d have thought I’d ridden it a million times. Quickly, I lost track of where he was taking me. I hadn’t seen enough of the city to have any kind of bearings, but any fool would know that we were far from the legit side of the tracks. I knew we were on the side of town I was told never to go, but I wasn’t positive which way was home—never a good thing.

After streets full of hookers, corners littered with men I would not face on my bravest day, we moved down another seedy alley. The bikes and sports cars lining each side made me question if the place was as dangerous as I thought it was. Each one was shined to perfection, and most had the windows down or cracked like they were parked at a Southern church and didn’t have a care in the world.

The alley ran between two of the largest warehouses I’d seen in this area; they were the most put together too, like I wasn’t afraid it was going to crash down on my head at any second.

Once we were dismounted, he opened the hatch on his bike, pulled out a black bag then loaded it with stacks of more cash than I had ever seen in my life. Some of it was neat and clean. Other bundles looked like they had been dragged through the gutters.

Wordlessly, as always, he took out a pair of aviator glasses from the same compartment and put them on me—effectively hiding the most memorable feature I had. Next came a black ski cap that totally did not fit the season, but surely cured my helmet hair.

I almost spit out a snarky remark like, “So, what bank are we robbing?” but he never gave me a chance. He reached for my hand and stared me down for a second. A stare that said to play it cool, and not to leave his side.

My heart picked up a notch or two as we moved down the alley, more so when he rapped on the door with his fist. A second later a guy three times his size let us into the hallway that was glowing red. Music was vibrating the walls, and smoke filled the air. I’m not sure if it was him or me, but one of us tightened the grip of our hands. The soft sway of his thumb against the side of my palm did anything but calm me.

We squeezed by tons of people. Not one single guy bothered to touch me, if anything, they made way for me to move by, but every half-naked girl in sight reached for him, and only paused when they noticed his glare.

At the end of the hall, another bodyguard guy gave us a once over before he let us into a room that looked like a retro office. Most of the furniture was green, plastic, and old. An older woman was sitting at the desk before another door, smoking away as she clicked her fingers across the laptop before her.

Slayton nodded for me to sit on the couch that was just out of sight from most of the adjoining room. I did, but only on the very edge. I was ready to bolt at any second, and not fond of the obstacles in my way to do so.

One swoop of my gaze made me cringe when I noticed that in the next room, among the room full of men, the fair-haired guy from the night before, along with the short Italian— they were not only there, but surprised to see me again.
Makes two of us buddy
, I thought grudgingly.

From what I could see in the room, there was a massive desk on each side—one to the right and left. Each had stacks of cash on them and topless girls were running the bills through a machine to count them.

There was a guy behind the desk; he had to be in his late fifties, dripping with the whole
Godfather
persona; overweight, a little oily, with a cigar smoking on his desk. Slayton handed his bag to the girl on the left. The man behind the desk ended his cell phone call then reclined back in his leather chair. Because he leaned back, I lost sight of him, but I could still hear him as if he were right at my side.

“My boy, Winslow,” he rasped with absolutely no admiration.

My gaze shifted over what I could see of Slayton, and I wondered why the man called him a different name. “I understand a Unicorn paid you last night.”

Slayton said nothing.

“When did Bloom say he’d have the rest?” The man behind the desk asked.

I tensed. I couldn’t help it. I regretted it as soon as I did, though, because I could have sworn everyone but Slayton’s stare landed on me for a split second. It had to have been my imagination, true.

“He didn’t,” Slayton said.

The man behind the desk was quiet for long seconds; then I heard him exhale what I was sure was a cloud of smoke. “I sincerely hope the piece of ass you’ve been driving all over my town is not the reason you’ve turned down the ring lately.”