Motown Breakdown (Motown Down #4)

Copyright © 2016 K.S. ADKINS

Published by K.S. Adkins

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Published: K.S. Adkins 2016 

Other works by K.S. Adkins:

The Detroit After Dark Series

Brutal

Brawler

Berserk

Ballistic

8 Mile & Rion

Convincing Bet

When Time Stood Still

Motown Throwdown (Motown Down #1)

Motown Showdown (Motown Down #2)

Motown Takedown (Motown Down #3)

MOTOWN BREAKDOWN

Shoving all of my clothes into the machine to get the most out of two dollars in quarters, I back out of the room with my basket locking the door behind me. It’s a sad day when locking the door is the only way to ensure your underwear are still in the machine when you come back. There have been several instances where I’ve switched out my laundry to find my thongs missing. Considering only three of us occupy this floor and two of them are male, yeah…I lock the door.

“I'll take your girlfriend and put that pussy on a pedestal.”
I sing, taking the stairs two at a time and pushing the door open with my ass. “
Bitch don't kill my—”
the lyrics that took me a month to memorize die in my throat when my pony tail is fisted. Before regaining my balance whoever had it yanked up caused me to squeal out, “Ow fuck!”

Dropping the basket, my arms shoot up to fend off my attacker and save my precious hair. “Let go, psycho!” I scream but it gets me nowhere. Even if it did, I couldn’t hear it with Kendrick Lamar blaring in my ears. Thrashing in protest only seemed to make matters worse for me. Because a fighter, I was not. Then the back of my knee is kicked in and I go down pathetically hard. Having no choice but to take the pain, I grunt like a motherfucker. At a disadvantage because I couldn’t hear, when a boot was pressed into my back, I decided I could
feel
just fine. Yelling out a threat that wasn’t heeded, the weight was removed a moment later allowing me to come up to my knees. With watery eyes, I see a hand in front of my face and in taking it I’m helped up by none other than my mysterious neighbor. He was one part of the duo that was under investigation for my missing undies.

We had an unspoken agreement, or so I thought. He handled his illegal business and I looked the other way; it worked for us until now. Because now I owed him and I didn’t like owing anyone, ever.  Using his finger, he pulls out each ear bud before securing me to his side and tightening his grip. Later, I would wonder why he was running his thumb up and down my side. But first, I wanted some answers.

“What’s with the attack, fuckface?” I yell at the hair puller. His name was Frank. He was my neighbor too and was normally somewhat polite, ripping my roots out notwithstanding. And if I had to choose, I’d peg him for the theft of my beloved thongs. He just had that way about him. “I was just washing my clothes!”

“Shut up,” says my other neighbor, the one massaging my side. His name I didn’t know because he was super private and not at all friendly. No one was as friendly as me by the way, at least I was when I bothered to talk to people. But this guy, he worked construction during the day but at night, well that’s a different story. I know this because I’m extremely nosey and have a lot of time on my hands.

“
You
shut up,” I counter at him then yell at Frank. “What’s with the gun?”

“You have bad timing, mama,” he says still with the thumb ignoring Frank’s existence.

“You’re to come with me,” Frank says while his gun is still trained on us. Okay, trained on me. This wouldn’t be the first or the last time this happened either.

“How about no.”

“Shade thinks your smart mouth is cute, I don’t.” He sneers with his gun now aimed at my head.

How to explain Shade… He works for my father, for one. Two, he loves violence. Three, he’s been conditioned to believe he loves me. Four, he’s my only shot at survival and I am his. And the kicker? Even in modern times crime bosses like Marco still promise their beloved daughters to their most loyal and fiercest crony. Personally, I have no problem breaking my promises and telling Marco to eat a dick every chance I can. But no matter what I say or do Shade thinks I’m adorable and that I’m going to make a great wife. Men are so clueless, I swear. If we weren’t saving each other’s asses, we wouldn’t be on each other’s radar as a love match. He and I are not soul mates, if such a thing even exists and if you asked me, it doesn’t.

“He sent you to live here, to spy on me? To kick my ass? The first part I buy, the last part not so much.”

“Shade sent me to make sure you were safe and not with other males, yes.” Yeah right, other males. The last time (the only time) I tried that Shade broke his neck (in front of me) and we weren’t even engaged yet. At the time I was seventeen and just wanted to make out. Troop was a new guy, only twenty and very buff. He had me when he asked me what my shirt was made of when I said I didn’t know, he said boyfriend material. Being that I’d known Shade for a while, we’d discussed looking out for each other. Little did I know he had already laid claim to me. And since no one bothered to tell
me
that, I was caught with my tongue in Troop’s mouth and only he suffered for it.

Unlike the men that surrounded me that lacked a conscience, I had a problem with a man dying
for
sleeping with me. What would it be like to have a man dying
to
sleep with me? I would never know because the only man allowed between these precious thighs is Shade and God’s honest? He wasn’t that good at it. Not that he was bad at it either, it’s just that it’s all I’ve ever known and it’s always the same. Since I have no other experience to compare it to, I suppose it’s like eating the same flavor of ice cream over and over. You know what to expect, the taste and texture never change. But you eat it because it’s ice cream and everyone
loves
ice cream.

I would never get close enough to a male to form a true bond because I was watched constantly. If I wasn’t being watched to make certain I wasn’t fooling around, I was watched to make certain I wasn’t nabbed in an attempt to bring Marco to heel. Not that the threat of another male even mattered considering there wasn’t one breathing that would challenge Shade for me. In my world, that is what it took to sever our arrangement. A challenge. A fight to death, as it were. Winner takes Luna. Look, I’m cute and my ass is clutch, but even I know I’m not worth dying for. So I resigned myself to one flavor of ice cream a long time ago. PS: I hate vanilla.

“She said no,” was all my neighbor offered up but at least the rubbing stopped. One man has ever had skin privileges with me and it sure as shit wasn’t this one. Having a stranger rub me was equal parts arousing and confusing. But having him do so with an audience tweaked me out.

“You are not worth all the trouble you’re causing me,” he growled, no really he did and it didn’t look good on him. “I’m not a fucking babysitter. Before you, I had a life! Marco may have an agenda with you but I do not. I kill you, all my problems are solved.”

“Or,” I offer sweetly and completely full of shit. “I kill you and steal your wallet.”

“Marco – ” the gun shot made me jump and the percussion in this tiny hallway had my head spinning. However, I was in a better position than Frank who was now face down, bleeding out, on the dirty floor. Any other time this would have made me vomit, or run for it, but my neighbor was looking at me funny and it pissed me off.

“Perfect!” I likely yelled out considering I couldn’t hear dick. “You didn’t let him finish what he was about to say!”

“We have to go.” I was able to make out by watching his mouth.

“Go?” I round on him, likely still yelling because my ears were ringing like church bells. “I need to finish my laundry. You go. I’ll just step over Frank on the way back to my place.”

“Luna,” he says tightening his grip.

“How do you know my name?” I accuse because he shouldn’t know it. I don’t get mail here, my car isn’t registered to me and I speak to no one.  When he didn’t answer I thought it was because he was going to let me go. Producing a needle was the last thing I expected. Struggling in earnest, he looks resolved to do it even though it was clear he didn’t want to. “I was nice to you,” I whimper. “I loaned you butter! The good shit!”