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The corner of his mouth kicks up into a grin. “Because I always get what I want,” he whispers, the deep baritone of his voice sounding like thunder rumbling in the distance. My body trembles when his lips feather along my cheek. “And make no mistake, baby girl, you’re definitely something I want.”
Before I can respond, he saunters away from me, wiping his forehead with the shirt he had hooked in the pocket of his ripped jeans. Lance Knight is only thirty-four. I’m sixteen, but I can’t stop my mind replaying each touch. Every single moment he’s ever looked at me, smiled at me, and even spoken to me.
I’m a girl infatuated with the illicit emotions that warm me from head to toe.
And I know he’s a man who wants the forbidden, and I’ll gladly offer him a taste.
Even then, I knew my life would always be with Lance, and my heart would always belong to him. Stepping out of the shower, I wrap myself in a towel and pad into the bedroom to find my father sitting in the wingback chair that overlooks the garden. It’s positioned toward the window so I can look out over the grounds while I read my book, or sometimes, spy on Lance.
While I was in the shower, the sun has set, and now, the sky is darkening, turning the day to night. I love this time of day, when the moon appears, and the stars slowly twinkle on, one by one. There’s magic in the air. Hope springs from the sky.
My father utters in the low light, “He’s never going to survive this job.” I know my father is lying. He’s trying to scare me.
“Oh? And what makes you say that?” I settle on my bed, my hair dripping down my back, slowly soaking the comforter beneath me.
He turns to look at me. His eyes burn into me, a flame dancing in them. A small smile turns his face from an angry scowl to a satisfied grin.
“I have all the faith in Lance,” he replies. “But there are just some things no man can survive.” Confusion settles on my face in the form of a frown, which causes my dad to chuckle. “A long time ago, I saved Lance from a life on the street.”
I’ve heard this story. Lance told me one night when he’d sat on my balcony just after my seventeenth birthday. He would climb the trellis and settle in for the night. Sometimes he’d watch me sleep, and other times, he’d tell me about his past.
“I’m sending him to the place he never wanted to return, to face the woman who broke him all those years ago.” My father’s words turn my blood from raging hot to ice. My spine is rigid in shock, and I have a feeling he’s just sent Lance to kill his mother.
Lance
I can’t believe he’s done this.
Arthur has always enjoyed mind games. He loves fucking with people, making sure they bow to his every whim, but this time, he’s gone too far.
The house across the road is dilapidated. Even from here, I can see how unloved it is, and I feel the emotion right down to the marrow in my bones. Cold, angry, and frustrated. I tangle my fingers in my hair, tugging at the strands as I glare at the woman who nearly falls up the steps.
She’s skinnier than I remember. Her dark hair hangs limply across her face, and her gaunt expression is nothing short of deathly. I watch her slim frame move through the doorway, and I wonder just where she’s been going.
It’s almost midnight. The shadows hide me from view as I watch the lights flick on in the living room. It’s as if I’m right back there, The scared young boy who had nothing but a small rucksack filled with stolen money from one of my mother’s boyfriends.
I watch her move into the kitchen, light following behind as she makes her way through the house. A car pulls up. The blacked-out windows inform me that this person wants to hide. My hand moves to my gun, gripping the handle. I wait. My breath is coming in deep, short spurts as I watch the man exit the vehicle.
He’s tall. Dressed in a black suit, he ventures onto the property toward the open door. When he steps into the living room, my gaze is locked on the window where he pulls my mother in close, his hand gripping her neck as he slams her skeleton frame to the wall.
I want to move, but I don’t. This is her mess, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. He leans in, speaking into her face, causing her to flinch. My fingers tighten on the weapon, tingling to pull the trigger while pointing it at the asshole who’s hurting her.
My chest aches as she claws at him. It’s as if I can feel my breath being stolen as he takes hers. Suddenly, she’s shoved to the floor, and the asshole points at something, then exits the house and makes his way to the car.
I don’t do anything when he pulls away and leaves the street in darkness. Stalking from my hiding spot, I head to the house. The same place I ran from all those years ago. When I get to the doorway, she’s still gasping for air on her hands and knees.
“P-please,” she sputters. “I-I’ll g-g-get the m-mon-ey. H-he s-s-said there’s t-time.” Her voice is ragged, as if she’d smoked a packet of cigarettes today without eating or drinking anything. Perhaps she hasn’t eaten.
“I’m not here for money,” I bite out, causing her head to snap back, her eyes meeting mine, and recognition turns her pained scowl into a soft, sad smile.
“Lance? Son?”
“I’m no son of yours, remember? You wanted me gone, and I left.” I step farther into the house, taking in the shithole that used to be my home. Ashtrays are overflowing with butts. Empty bottles of alcohol sit on every surface. The carpet is threadbare, and there’s a smell of something sour coming from the kitchen.
“Please, Lance,” she murmurs. “Help me.” I glance back at her, at my mother who’s on the floor, he
r one skeletal hand reaching for me, and I wonder just how broken I truly am not to care that she’s almost dead.
“I’ve come here to finish a job,” I tell her, ignoring her hand. “Where’s Thomas?” I question. The man Arthur wants dead is the same one I stole from. But there’s a second part to the job, the part I’m not looking forward to.
