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“Besides, I have a new rule. Whenever you want a pill, you’ll have to suck my cock for it first.” I ran my thumb down her lip.
She pushed me away. “Don’t be a dick. I’m not sucking you off for drugs.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. But that makes it so much hotter.”
She glares at me. “Bastard. You know how to ruin everything, you know that, right?”
I kissed her neck, and pinned her wrist behind her back. “I know. But now I think that’s the rule. You want a pill? You’ll suck my cock first.”
Before she could tell me to go choke and die, a gunshot echoed from outside.
Her eyes went wide and I released her, frantically looking at the monitors—
There. Out front. A body lying on the ground and two motorcycles driving away.
“Stay here,” I said and rushed out.
People looked scared and confused. Cap was already trying to reassure them as Mal hurried to the front and kicked out the door. I followed him, gun raised, but the night was quiet.
A body lay sprawled on the ground. He moved, groaning.
“Still alive,” I said, crouching. “Mal, make sure they’re not coming back.”
Mal nodded and stalked off into the night.
Harry looked up at me with fear in his eyes. Blood leaked from a wound in his chest and he took ugly, nasty breaths. He was the Lowdown’s bouncer and a decent guy. He wasn’t a part of this, not really.
“Who?” I asked, anger raging in my belly.
“Bikers,” he grunted. “Wanted to come in. Had guns. Told them to fuck off.” He gasped for air.
“Don’t talk. I’ll get an ambulance.”
“Kill the fuckers… for me.” He stiffened as I gently put him down on the blacktop. I was covered in his blood, and more leaked out onto the ground.
His eyes fluttered closed, and he went still.
I stared down at the dead bouncer. Harry was a civilian. He worked for the Lowdown—but he wasn’t a gangster. He wasn’t a part of this war.
Cezary crossed a line. And now I was going to kill them all.
Chapter 15
Jules
Harry getting killed left me shaken. He wasn’t a part of the fighting—he was just the bouncer for the Lowdown. He hadn’t been there when Cezary attacked Mal and Cap’s wedding. He was some guy, uninvolved in the mafia, trying to make a paycheck.
Now he was dead. Murdered out in front of the place I worked.
Violence followed me anywhere I went.
“You okay?” Carmine frowned at me as he drove me back to his place.
“I’m okay. Just thinking about Harry.”
He nodded and his fingers gripped the steering wheel. “We all are.”
“I keep thinking it’s going to get worse before it gets better. More people are going to die.”
He said nothing. Only stared straight ahead. Which was all I needed.
Carmine stayed in the apartment that night. He woke me early and took me to campus the next day. He was preoccupied, but not too distracted to keep himself from putting his hand on my thigh and tugging up my skirt with a smirk.
“How’s your leg feeling?”
I shoved his hand away. “Just fine. Have a good day, big boy.”
He laughed as I climbed out. Truth was, my leg ached like hell, and I desperately wanted a pill—but I had to try to gut it out. I couldn’t rely on the pills forever, and maybe now was as good a time as any to try weaning myself from their grasp.
And I didn’t have time for the other remedy he’d come up with. I was already running late for class. Not like that would’ve stopped him.
Days drift past faster when there’s something to dream about. I flitted from class to class, thinking about Carmine and his rough hands on my body, and the deal we’d made: his tongue first and pills later. I wanted to test his theory, over and over again, to feel the orgasm shudder my spine and cause my mind to explode into a thousand little pieces, all while he growled and licked me up and looked like a Viking conqueror enjoying a victory feast. It was filthy, and beautiful, and he’d taken my virginity like it was his to own, and I didn’t know how far we could take this before something broke.
And it would break soon. There was no doubt in my mind.
Everything I touched crumbled to dust. I’d learned that at a young age. My life was cut in half: before the accident and after. Before, things hadn’t been so bad, and I could almost pretend that I was normal.
After, it was like a nightmare every time I rolled out of bed.
Oscar picked me up in the late afternoon. He glared at me and said nothing as I got into the back of the Mercedes, and he stared at me in the rearview, sweat rolling down his forehead. His shirt was rumpled and dirty like he’d slept in it, and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy with deep black bags beneath them. He was twitchy and irritable, and my stomach sank like a stone when we parked and he followed me up to the apartment.
