Junkie (Broken Doll #1) (21 page)

“We got off on the wrong foot, Miri.” Milo leaned over, getting closer than was comfortable. “I wanted to start over if you’d let me.”

Milo’s deep Texas drawl came out of nowhere and sounded as foreign coming from him as a French accent would from Jag. I didn’t want this man anywhere near me. Every instinct I had recoiled at his close proximity, but making Milo angry wasn’t something I wanted to chance.

“Okay.”

“Good,” he said with a clap of his hands on his knees. “You got a job, right?”

“Yes.” Where was Jag? My brain was shouting warnings so loud I wanted to cover my ears.

Get out! Run! Leave!

Milo grinned, showing off a single gold tooth. I had to concentrate to not visibly cringe at the sight.

“That’s wonderful. Now you can get out there and have a life. Find a nice guy to treat you right.”

I furrowed my brow at Milo’s suggestion. He was baiting me, I knew it, but I couldn’t resist asking.

“What do you mean? Like dating?”

He knew I was with Jag. I had no doubt of that, because he hated me for it. So what was his point?

“’Course! Pretty thing like you deserves better than bein’ treated like a whore in a harem.”

The words hit me smack in the face and fell to the floor with a clunk.

“H-harem?”

The smile slid off Milo’s face, replaced with a somber stare.

“Well, yeah. You didn’t… you didn’t think you were Boss’s only girl, did you?”

My chest tightened and my stupid pale skin betrayed me, burning hot with humiliation, and likely glowing red.

“Oh, you did think that.” He reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but instead it sent a streak of fear across my skin, raising the hairs at the back of my neck. “Sorry, darlin’. You wouldn’t be the first to fall for his charms, you know. I’m certain you won’t be the last.”

I shrugged his hand off, nauseous from both Milo’s creepy touch and the crushing heartbreak pressing down on my chest.

“Sorry ’bout that, darlin’. I honestly thought you knew.” Milo stood, straightening out his clothing. “I’ll leave you be, but you can come to me if you need someone to talk to.”

I didn’t move or look at Milo as he left, afraid of cracking in front of the intimidating man. Blinking back tears, I pulled a blanket off the arm of the sofa, suddenly chilled to the bone.

Milo was lying. He had to be. The man hated me and would do anything to get rid of me.

Determined not to let that jerk get to me, I continued reading my book. Well, tried to read anyway. After Milo dropped his well-aimed bomb on its target, my concentration was shot. When I read the same page for the tenth time, still not able to absorb a single word, I decided to give up. I needed to talk to Jag. That would help. Once I did, everything would be straightened out.

But what if Milo was telling the truth? I never did understand why Jag allowed me to stay after trespassing on his property, in full-blown withdrawal and begging for a hit. Why would he take in a junkie if not for sex?

Nicky’s words from months ago echoed in my head over and over again like they had since I showed up on Jag’s front steps.

“Get real, girl. There’s no free in this game.”

On the verge of tears, I set the book and blanket on the couch and headed for the office, the one room I’d never seen. The doorbell rang right as I passed through the foyer and I let out a surprised squeak. A few seconds lapsed and no one came to open the door. No way was I answering it. It could be someone dangerous with a gun or worse.

I was about to turn away and go to my room when I heard footsteps approaching. Not wanting to be caught lingering near the door, I ducked into the front sitting room and waited for whoever it was to go away.

“Karina? What are you doing here?”

I recognized the voice of the man at the door. It was Jace, one of Jag’s Men in Black.

“Jag wants to fuck. Why else would I be here?”

The slutty, over the top, fake voice? That, I didn’t recognize.

“B-but… I mean… Are you sure? He wanted you to come here?”

It was obvious by the way Jace sputtered, he was wondering the same thing as me. Why would Jag have a piece of ass come to his house while I was living here? While he was fucking me? I balled up a fist and bit into my knuckle to muffle my cry. That bastard Milo was telling me the truth. Jag probably had whores all over the city.

How stupid could I be?

The woman, Karina, dropped the slut act and barked like a bitch, a sharp bite in her tone. “Well, are you going to invite me in or make me stand on the steps all day?”

“Sorry, come in. Boss is in his study. Come to the kitchen and make yourself comfortable. You’ll have to wait for him, we don’t disturb him—”

“When he’s in his study. I know how it works.”

“Sorry, Karina,” Jace said.

“Now that,” the bitch responded, “is a much better way to treat me.”

The loud click of heels on marble echoed in the foyer as the two went down the hall to the kitchen. On the verge of a breakdown, I darted out of the room and flew up the stairs, blindly shoving as many clothes as would fit into the small backpack Jag bought for me to use when we rode on his bike. I hated having to take things purchased by that asshole, but I had no choice, no possessions of my own.

I had nothing. No one. I could have stayed. Had a big blow up with Jag. But what’s the point? I don’t belong here.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and breathed.

Keep your cool, Miri.

In order to get out of here, I needed to appear happy and normal. Frank wouldn’t do what I asked without being suspicious if I were a sobbing mess. Hefting the pack on my shoulder, I inhaled deeply, and took one last look around the room.

It was time to move on anyway. I didn’t belong here.

I turned on my heel, head held high, and walked out.

When my men showed up with nothing to report, I was less than pleased. More like murderously angry. “It’s one motherfucking girl! Get back out there and don’t fucking come back without her!” Every one of my men flinched at the vehemence in my voice.

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.