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I take a moment to figure out how to start this story. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken about it out loud, and all of a sudden I feel nervous.
“One day,” I croak, my voice raspy with emotion. “After school, my dad was waiting for me. He’d never done that before, and I was excited to see him. He suggested we walk into the town center and get some junk food, and the teenager in me was never going to turn down junk food. When we walked by an alley, we heard someone call for help.” I shake my head. “My dad handed me his phone before pulling a gun from the back of his pants and placed it in my hand…” I trail off as the memory assaults me, images flashing through my mind, taking me back to that day.
“I didn’t even know my dad owned a gun. He told me to call some guy called Dante saved in his phone and tell him where we were. Until then, I’d never heard of Dante, but I didn’t question it, and called him as I was ordered to do, all while watching my dad run into the alley.”
“Gray, you don’t have to tell me,” Zoe whispers, her hand falling away from my shoulder, but I give it a shrug, reminding her to stay focused.
“I don’t need your pity, Princess.”
She stares at me for a moment, her expression unreadable before she returns to her task.
“After the call with Dante, who said he was on his way, I ran into the alley, with the gun raised.” I shake my head and chuckle darkly. “My dad should have fucking kept the gun himself. Back then I didn’t know how to use it. But he gave it to me instead of keeping it for himself, trusting me with it, and that ended up costing him his life.”
“What happened in the alley?” she asks softly, almost like she’s scared to interrupt me.
“As I rounded the corner, I found a guy from my school holding a gun to my dad’s head. He wasn’t in trouble at all. He’d called for help to lure my dad down that alley, and he was screaming about my dad beating up his older brother for not paying his debt or something. I can’t remember exactly what it was. All I remember is lifting the gun, pointing it straight at the guy while my dad begged me to shoot the kid.” Anger laces my tone, old hurt, and regret swarming me.
“I didn’t think the other boy would actually do it. I never fucking thought…” I shake my head, wishing I had the bottle of Jack from yesterday, knowing it would help to bury the memories. “But the kid did it. My dad died because I was too scared to pull the trigger. The other kid wasn’t scared. He shot my dad in the head and didn’t even flinch.”
“Gray,” she whispers again, and a low growl sounds in my chest, stopping her from saying anything else, but she remains focused on the task. A task that is taking too fucking long.
“Because of me, my dad’s brains painted the wall of a fucking back alley.” I roll my tongue in my mouth as a dull ache starts to radiate down my arm. “After dad died, mom started turning tricks to feed her fucking drug habit. As long as she got enough blow to keep reality from knocking, she didn’t care about anything else. Once Dante, the leader of the Diamond Crew found out—”
Zoe interrupts me. “The Diamond Crew? Aren’t they the ones who own Dirty Diamonds?”
I growl. “Yes, Princess. That’s why we were there the night you decided to show what’smineto a room full of drunk and horny men.”
She quirks a brow. “Oh, you mean the night you forced me to blow you on stage with a gun to my head?”
Fuck.
Her attitude both turns me on and sends me fucking mad.
Anger has her cheeks turning red and for a moment, I feel like she’s considering following through with her earlier threat and stabbing me with the scissors.
“That would be the night. Yes.” I agree, staring her down as we both fight for dominance.
Her nostrils flare, and her upper lip twitches before she slaps a new dressing on my wound hard, and I cry out with a roar as pain radiates in throbbing waves from the bullet wound.
“Fucking hell woman, be careful!” I hiss, and she sneers back.
“No. You don’t deserve careful.”
I raise a single dark brow at her.
“The least you could do is kiss it better after hurting it like that.”
She studies me for a moment, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips, even as her blue gaze drops to mine.
Does my princess want to kiss me again?
I could make her. I know she will cave and become pliable for me, but for once, I want her to do it because she wants to.
“Keep telling me about your story, and I might have something that’ll help.”
Her voice is sweet as she speaks, and I’m honestly unsure if I should trust it. Perhaps she is trying to lure me in before she strikes.
Wouldn’t that be fucking ironic.
