Junkie (Broken Doll #1) (20 page)

Jag shrugged, an attempt to act casual, but after these last couple of months, I knew him better than that. The truth in his eyes betrayed him, hurt flashing behind the fierce blue. I desperately wanted to ask what Jag meant by no options, but didn’t want to ruin the moment or cause the normally tight-lipped man to shut down.

“What would you do if you quit?”

Jag dropped his gaze and took one of my hands, threading our fingers together. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered in delight. “I have a lot of money, Miri. I might could take a few years off, learn a trade, figure something out. Maybe just retire and do nothing for a while. Buy a tiny cottage and live on a random beach somewhere. Rock on the back porch and watch the sun rise.” His eyes returned to mine, hesitant. “Maybe you would consider keepin’ me company?”

My breath left my lungs in a rush. I was so stunned I lost the ability to speak.

“Miri?” Jag’s brow wrinkled and his cheeks flushed pink.

Oh my god! Boss is blushing! Answer the man, Miri.

“I-I would love that.”

Jag’s frown turned to shock before spreading into a wide grin. “You would really go with me? Leave Austin and start over again?”

I smiled back. “Yes. I have nothing left here.”

Suddenly, I was on my back, two hundred plus pounds of sexy man on top of me, kissing me senseless. Jag pulled back, still grinning as he looked down at me. He laughed and the true happiness in the very rare sound sealed the deal.

Where I had previously been flirting with the edge of danger by getting involved with Jag, I was now falling off the cliff, unable to stop the rapid descent. When I hit the bottom, instead of being caught in the comfort of my feelings for Jag, reality smacked me upside the head.

I was in love with this intriguing, sometimes violent, overprotective man, but I couldn’t go with him.

As Jag was busy covering my face and neck with kisses, icy numbness seeped under my skin. I pushed at his chest, but Jag was too heavy and kept kissing me.

“Jag.” He ignored me and continued his sensual assault. “Jag!”

A heavy-lidded, sleep-mussed head peeked up from where he was nuzzling my neck.

“I can’t leave Austin. Not… not without Cat.”

Jag stared, his face suddenly serious. The playful, happy young man vanished and the fierce drug lord returned in the blink of an eye.

“Who’s Cat?”

“
M
ilo
, I want you to head up the situation with Los Guerreros while I take care of something.”

Milo stared at me from the other side of my desk as if I’d just admitted to having a second cock hidden in my pants. He rubbed his chin between thick fingers. My eyes slid to the small cut on his cheek where I’d nicked him with my blade last night. It was already healing, two Steri-Strips stuck over a scab that had formed on the wound.

“Boss, what could possibly be more important than preparing for a war?”

While I understood Milo’s concern, especially at a time when things were unstable and could go very bad, very fast, what I did or didn’t do was my own business. As much as I wanted to shut him up permanently for once again questioning my orders, I needed Milo now more than ever if I wanted to stop Los Guerreros from taking over Austin.

“
Nothing
is more important than preparing for a war, my friend. That’s why I’ve assigned you to be in charge of it. You’re the best I have. I’m confident you can keep everything under control.” Feeding Milo’s massive ego was always the best way to shut him up and get him to follow commands.

As expected, this instance was no different. He flashed his gold tooth and grinned, dark eyes glinting with his thirst for blood, crazy fucker.

“Damn right I’m the fucking best.”

And he is.

I nodded. “I’m giving you full control over George and the men under him. Dealers are to keep eyes and ears on the streets, but they are not to do any outright surveillance. Those idiots aren’t trained or equipped to handle a confrontation with El Cuchillo’s men.”

Only the higher echelons of my organization knew how to deal with enemies. Petty street dealers had one function: move product. That was it. They were not the brains by any means. It would only take one mouthy punk to turn a tense situation into an all-out war.

Milo stretched, groaning as his spine cracked. “I’ll run everything out of the main warehouse if that’s okay, Boss.”

“Perfect. I want someone watching those bastards at all times. I’ve taken care of monitoring Brick. A contact in Houston is observing his movements for us. We’ll have several hours’ notice if he’s coming our way.” I stood up and circled the desk, extending a hand to my lieutenant. We’d butted heads a lot lately, but I needed to make sure Milo was committed to stopping El Cuchillo.

Milo accepted my hand, shaking it while pulling me into a shoulder bump. “I’ll take care of it, Boss. No worries.”

“Keep me updated.”

“You can count on it.” The big man winked, flashing that hideous gold tooth one last time before leaving. Something about the look in his dark, emotionless eyes unsettled me.

Fuck
.

I slid back into my chair, my sore muscles were full of knots and bunched up tight. I hadn’t realized how tense I was with Milo around. Our fight last night was pretty bad. We didn’t usually lose control during our disagreements.
Drawing blood?
That was quickly becoming a regular thing, and Milo wasn’t the kind of man who let shit go so easily. I wasn’t sure I could trust him the way I used to.

A little extra insurance couldn’t hurt. Good thing there were people who owed me. It was time to cash in on some favors.

After making a few calls, I rubbed the back of my neck in an attempt to stop the headache that was hammering relentlessly inside my skull. My eyes ached, burning from lack of sleep, and my entire body was sore with fatigue. I stretched my shoulder, wincing at the sharp pain from Milo’s rough arm hold.

Asshole
.

Again the urge to kill the man rolled through me and my muscles twitched to take action. I ground my teeth to tamp down the rising fury caused by my lieutenant’s inability to shut the fuck up. He was damn lucky El Cuchillo had started this shit or he’d already be a corpse somewhere in the outskirts of the city. I shook my head and refocused on work. I needed to speak with several more contacts and check in with my guy in Houston.

A few hours later, my back and shoulder were throbbing and too distracting to continue sitting hunched over a computer. I wandered out of the office, hoping to find Miri for a little quality time. My burdens lessened with each step I took away from my work and my office, and a light, fluttery sensation took root in my chest. Maybe Miri would like to go for a ride on one of my bikes. Getting out of this oppressive environment for an hour or two would be heavenly. I was confident my men would alert me if any of El Cuchillo’s men came into our territory. So as long as I stuck to roads I knew, we would be safe. Smiling, I set out to find the fiery redhead.

“Hey, sexy. I’ve been waiting for you.”

My head spun around. When my gaze landed on the curvaceous blonde sitting at my kitchen table instead of the willowy redhead I fantasized about, my face twisted into a scowl and extreme annoyance nuked my good mood.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Karina?”

Why the hell is my dial-a-fuck at my house?

“I was told you needed to decompress a little.” Karina stood and slithered toward me in her sky-high heels, hips shimmying and large breasts bouncing. She reached out with a long, painted fingernail and dragged it down my chest. I batted her hand away, beyond irritated.

“I didn’t ask you to come here, Karina. You should leave.”

“Well, I’m already here. We might as well take advantage.” The curvy blonde reached between us, grabbed my junk, and began massaging it with a practiced hand. This time, I snatched her wrist and twisted it behind her back.

“Your services aren’t needed, Karina. Not now, not ever.” I let go and gave her a tiny shove. She stumbled in her heels, but caught herself quickly.

Karina’s eyes narrowed and her skin flushed. “Fuck you!”

I stepped forward until her back was pressed against the wall and leaned in close, my palms on either side of her head. It took every ounce of willpower to keep from tossing her out of the house on her ass.

“Speak to me like that again and see what happens. I dare you.” Karina swallowed, eyes wide and the seductive act gone. I pointed toward the foyer. “Now, walk down the hall, open the front door, and fucking leave.”

She nodded and ducked under my arm, moving as fast as those ridiculous shoes would allow. Once the front door closed, I rolled my eyes and wondered what the fuck I ever saw in her. Instead of painted nails and heels I envisioned grease-stained hands and cowboy boots. Instead of ten layers of mascara and makeup, I wanted a smattering of red-gold freckles.

“Fuck.” Despite wanting to know why Karina was here, I was more invested in finding Miri and going on our ride, so I continued my search.

Miri wasn’t in the library or the garage, her two favorite places. In fact, she wasn’t anywhere. Aggravated, I rang Sarge to have his men do a sweep of the grounds.

“Boss, I thought you knew…”

An icy tentacle slithered down my spine. “Knew what?”

“We thought, I mean she said it was okay. We thought, because you let her get a job…”

“Goddammit, Sarge! Spit it the fuck out right now!” I slammed my hand on the kitchen table, my temper holding on by the thinnest of silk threads, ready to snap at any second.

“Miri left. Frank gave her a ride. He took her to the mall.” Sarge was clearly scared shitless to be the one to inform me of Miri’s departure.

“Did any of your men go with them to protect her?”

“No, Boss.”

“Son of a bitch! Get Frank to pull the car around front! I’ll bring her back myself.”

“Boss, Frank isn’t back yet. He’s with her at the mall, waiting.”

I roared into the phone, cursing a blue streak. “You idiot. If Frank is with her then get him on the motherfucking line and tell him to get his ass back here and bring Miri. If she’s still shopping, have him go into the goddamn store, put her in the car, and bring her to me, now!”

“Yes, Boss.”

I clenched the phone in my hand, suppressing the urge to hurl it across the room. If Frank were to call, I needed my phone working, not in a million useless shards no matter how satisfying it would be to watch it explode. Fuck me, I should have given her a phone. Those fuckers should have asked before taking Miri anywhere. They answer to me, not her. They brought her out unprotected with this goddamn war looming.

Goddamnit!

Confused and somewhat unsettled, my hands itched and my legs became restless. I needed something to do to calm down and stop my overactive brain from sending me over the edge into a violence-filled tirade simply because Miri went to the mall. I considered straightening my closet or rearranging my desk, but decided I needed something physical instead.

Miri was unprotected. Out of the house. Outside of my protection. Where Los Guerreros could get to her.

Furious, I quickly changed into workout clothes and headed for my well-appointed home gym. After a brief stretch, which I cut short because it was too mindless of an activity to keep me from obsessing over Miri’s safety, I jumped on the treadmill and set the keypad to the much-loathed Heavy Hill workout and hit start. Half an hour and buckets of sweat later, the run hadn’t done a single thing to calm down my very active imagination or my volatile mood.

Was Miri shopping and got hurt?

Did El Cuchillo’s men get her?

Did Frank run off the road and they’re both lying dead in a ditch?

Certainly Frank had either called or was back by now. The fact that I hadn’t heard from him or Sarge ticked me off to no end.

I slapped the kill switch and stood hunched over, hands on knees, to catch my breath. Puddles formed on the treadmill as sweat rolled off me in streams. When my heart rate slowed a bit, I snatched a towel from a neat pile on a nearby rack and wiped down, intent on paying a visit to the small pool house that served as the base of operations for my security team. Sarge was going to get a piece of my mind. As I approached the pool house door, loud voices came from inside. Frank and Sarge were arguing.

“You’re fucking telling him what you did, Frank! I’m not the one who lost her!” From the sound of it, Sarge was freaking the fuck out.

And Miri was missing.

My stomach collapsed in on itself, tendrils of fear unfurling into my suddenly weakened limbs as I listened to Frank respond.

“Calm down, Sarge. We don’t know what happened and you have men looking for her.” Frank’s subdued, even demeanor did nothing to help ease the nausea burning in my gut. In fact, his lack of concern for Miri pissed me right the fuck off. Unable to hold back any longer, I burst through the door and both men froze, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on. Now!” By the looks on the men’s faces, I was sure I appeared insane, slick with sweat from head to toe, hands fisted, and veins bulging. If I had to guess, I’d say my entire body was bright red and vibrating with fury. The thread I had been hanging on to had just fucking snapped.

“Hey Boss. Sarge and I were just—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you were just doing!” I stepped forward and the two men flinched. My jaw ached from clenching so hard. “Tell me everything. Now.”

The loud, high-pitched whirring of pneumatic tools combined with the low, steady whirr of air saws and the near constant clanging of chisels on metal sent vibrations through the ceiling below to the floor where I sat. Slumped on the hard tile, curled into a ball with my back against the wall, the tremors were nearly strong enough to make my teeth clack together.

Beggars didn’t have the luxury to be choosers, and to be honest, the tiny apartment above the auto body shop was a hell of a lot better than some places I’d called home. Beau had no idea how much I owed him for letting me crash in the tiny space rent-free until I earned my first paycheck. Beneath the rough surface, the big, grumpy mountain of a shop owner had a heart of gold.

When I showed up unannounced a few hours ago, my face blotchy and damp with tears and my clothes filthy from walking several miles, carrying every possession I owned in a bag slung over my shoulder, Beau offered the apartment no questions asked. I was so grateful I was struck speechless. My only response to his kindness was to start crying all over again.

My stomach growled but I ignored it, too tired to leave to find real food. Besides, Jag… No,
Boss,
wasn’t a stupid man. The shop that recently employed me would be one of the first places he would check when he found out I was gone. Once he realized my things were missing, he’d know I left on purpose and didn’t simply vanish from the mall.

I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer for Frank. It wasn’t his fault he lost me. Under the guise of shopping, I asked Frank to bring me to the mall, knowing I could slip out one of the dozen entrances unseen. The kind man even handed me a huge wad of cash, smiling as he told me to “purchase something nice” for myself.

I blinked back the impending tears, determined not to cry again, but my broken heart wouldn’t allow me to let go of the conversation I’d had earlier. The one that sliced into the hard-earned trust I gave to Jag, severing everything between us with a single deep slash.

M
ilo slipped into the library
, the smile on his face sending up red flags all over the place. I glanced around, my pulse skittering, and realized I was cornered and alone. The closer Milo came, the faster my heart pounded. My brain screamed for me to run yet I was paralyzed by fear.

Stopping a few feet away, the huge man perched on the arm of a nearby chair, his enormous frame towering over where I sat on a leather couch, a book lying on my lap. Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I was compelled to meet his eyes.

When I did, I finally understood the meaning of “a deer caught in headlights.” I was the prey and Milo the predator. My heart faltered. I knew I didn’t stand a chance should he decide to physically hurt me. I swallowed down the scream building in my throat and spoke.

“W-why are you here?”

Milo was still smiling, but his eyes spoke a different story. A frightening story. I shivered under his scrutinizing gaze. Cold, hard, emotionless, dead—those are the words I would use to describe the soulless man behind the dark stare.