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Chapter One
Loud snoring jolted me awake and I shot straight up, trying hard to figure out my surroundings. My vision was too blurry to focus as my right eye twitched in sync with the pounding in my head. I craved water desperately as I tried swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Slowly, I relaxed as the familiar smell of motor oil and cigarettes filled my nose. It was Mack’s place. I gulped down the bottle of water on the nightstand, and rubbed my throbbing temples, slowly recalling the night before.
Shots. There had been lots of shots at Daggers. It was just after midnight when I planted myself on a stool at the end of the bar as I waited for Mack to show up. Fifteen minutes later, he sauntered in with three other guys behind him. When he saw me, his mouth twisted into a slow, cocksure grin as if he knew I would be there. I really hated Mack sometimes. I didn’t want to need him, but there was no one else.
The problem between Mack and me was that he refused to stop fucking other women, and I could never fully rid myself of our toxic relationship. I was his number one girl, the one he liked best, and for some demented reason, I had allowed myself to be that for five years.
When things were good between us, we were magnetic. Mack was fierce, and he was feared. There was an air of trouble about him that I found irresistible.
Like a masochistic moth to a sadistic flame.
Then I’d catch him with another girl and it was like someone poured gasoline on that flame, and we both would crawl away singed.
I would convince myself that things were finally over…until the next time I saw him. Sometimes by accident and other times on purpose. He always knew the right words to say to get me back to his place and then we’d start the cycle all over again.
I lifted his heavy arm from around my waist and got out of bed. I couldn’t resist turning to his sleeping profile and admiring the way his dark hair fell over his forehead and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. God, he was so beautiful yet so broken. His life was as shattered as mine.
With a yawn and a stretch, I made my way through the piles of dirty clothes and beer cans to the bathroom. When I hit the switch, only one of the three bulbs over the vanity flickered on. I looked at myself in the mirror and grimaced. My dark brown hair was hanging in a lopsided ponytail, mascara was smeared under my eyes, and my lips were puffy and swollen from the never-ending blowjob I’d given Mack the night before. He was so wasted that it had taken him forever to get off, and when he finally did, he immediately passed out before he could take care of me as he’d promised.
Pulling my gaze away from the mirror, I washed my face with a bar of green soap I found in the shower and rubbed toothpaste across my teeth with my finger. Reluctantly, my gaze shifted back to my reflection. Those hazel eyes reminded me of Gram. I loved that I had her eyes. My chest began to ache, and I could almost hear her voice.
I raised you better than this, Harley Jane Wyatt.
I tiptoed back into Mack’s room, put my clothes on, and then quietly searched through his pants pockets. After pinching a few bills from his wallet, I ran out of the house before I was caught red-handed.
They called him Mack for a reason. I’d seen him take men down with the force of a Mack truck. He was only about 5’11” but he was 220 pounds of pure muscle. He’d always been gentle with me; however, I wasn’t foolish enough to test him.
I went straight to his Ford Shelby Mustang that was parked in the driveway, his pride and joy. I opened the passenger side door and found my stuff still sitting on the seat. After slipping on my boots, I looked around the car for anything else worth taking. Glove boxes always held surprises, so I reached out, pulled the little compartment open and yelped. Several pairs of colorful panties spilled onto the floorboard. I zoomed in on turquoise thongs I knew were mine.
Ew.
There were so many things wrong with that picture. The most disturbing was how my panties were mingling with other panties.
