Page 85 of Lucky 14

I’ll make sure one person remembers me, and that’s this hateful fucker right in front of me.

Wyatt comes back with another cup of water, which I eagerly start to drink. With the hand that’s starting to get more feeling, I swing my arm up into the cup, splattering the water onto him. Just as quickly, I swing my other hand up to smack him as hard as I can across the face.

“Go to hell.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Six Weeks Ago

One thing Dad didn’t have was control. As I boot down the door of the cheap hotel and catch the glimpse of terror in the eyes of Roadrunner, that’s what I feel: control. It burns through me like the first sip of alcohol, lighting up every nerve ending.

Roadrunner scrambles to the bathroom, but I’m faster and sober. Snatching him up by the back of the neck, I fling him against the wall. Hard. He hits it, and his greasy body crumples.

“Runner, runner, runner,” I muse, flicking my gaze around the room. One of my guys goes to clear the bathroom as I’ve trained them to do. No one escapes my grasp.

Roadrunner—I’m not sure his real name, nor do I care—gasps in a breath. “Shit man, fuck.”

Rearing my foot back, I snap it down, crunching the man’s ribs and crumpling him against the wall again. The sad thing is, he used to be one of my good runners, but I haven’t heard from him in weeks. And he owes me money. A lot of it. Worth some broken ribs and a cracked skull.

The hum of my heartbeat thunders in my ears, and I want to be excited. I’m finally doing something fun! But I can’t get that fucking nagging feeling to go away. Right when Runner disappeared, my brother got out of prison. Is it connected in any way?

Runner, to his credit, tries to get up. I send him back down with a stomp to his fingers, because I didn’t tell him to get up. When I’m around, I’m in control, that includes every movement, every breath, every piece of information.

“You owe me,” I say as the man bows to me.

He nods, holding his breath, then says, “I swear I was bringing it by tonight.” He nods at the nightstand. “Was going to pay you back and then some.”

Sure enough, there looks to be cash there. I nod to my guys, and immediately they check it out, then nod to me. There’s enough.

I turn back to the man, unanswered questions burning in my chest. But if he is working for my brother, I need more information. And he’s currently my only connection to him, despite weeks of trying to track him down. I want to send my brother the message that if he messes with me, I’ll kill him. But if I kill this lead, I’m back to square one. So instead, I settle for: I know you’re there.

I get to deliver that message into the man’s skin. I refrain from beating him badly enough to keep him from ever leaving this room, and it makes me twitch.

I leave the hotel, hands shaking.

How dare he? My brother has always been angry about my success on the streets. When he got put away, there were blissful moments where I no longer had to check my back every minute.

As the night goes on, my hands stop shaking, but my eye starts twitching, and I can’t stop moving. Back at the club, I’m up, down, and all over the place. Watching people fuck usually helps. But tonight all I see is chaos. No one is doing it right, moaning for too long, not hitting hard enough, faking orgasms. In addition, they seem to be watching me for longer than usual.

I clench my fists hard enough to dig into my palms. I need to get out.

Storming to my car, I dial my escape.

As soon as she answers, I snap. “Usual place, one hour.”

There’s a pause on the line. I hear voices in the background. “Double,” I say, knowing there will be no arguing when it comes to money. I’m already generous.

One hour later, I’m kneeling on the carpeted luxury hotel floor, palms facing the ceiling. The air conditioning is cool against my naked skin. Usually, it’s grounding for me, but tonight I can’t help but glance at the clock. Where is she? I took a longer route to get here, just to be sure I wasn’t followed, but I was still early.

Then comes the slide and click of the key, and Velvet is sliding into the room in a pair of heels and a sleek black dress. Her hair is messed up, like she’s just come from something else, and I immediately wonder if she told them where she was going.

“Eyes on the ground,” she demands.

On instinct, I obey, staring at the royal blue and gold carpet. Her keys clink as she puts her things down.

“Have you been patient like a good boy?” she asks, her voice soft.

Too soft. I need more.