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“Nothing. Just checking up on you. You all right?”
Damn, this guy’s cute. Such a good friend. I hate myself for not telling him the truth. “I’m all right. The gang, too.” They will be, once I’ve sent them all away. “Told you, J. No need to worry about me.”
He runs a hand over his closely-cropped hair. “Can’t help it. It’s cold out here. Dangerous.” He works his jaw. “Come stay with us, Jason. We have space.”
I fight to hide a flinch. “Can’t. Told you.”
“Why not? Come on. Then I won’t have to worry.”
But I can’t do this. I’ve worked so hard to keep him safe. He has no idea…
“I promise I’ll be careful,” I assure him, and inch away before he can grab my arm or shoulder once more. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”
Hey, what’s one more lie, right?
The intersection I end up at is dead. What a bust. The cars aren’t even slowing down, let alone stopping. The inactivity makes me itch under my skin for some coke, for that brief flight into bright sunshine it brings.
I rub my arms, shivering. I hate this. I hate that I want the drugs. It’s a struggle not to spend every penny I make on buying them—and I know deep in my gut that soon I won’t be able to resist any longer. That when I start buying that shit, there will be no way back.
Not good. That money is needed elsewhere, to send my people away.
Lost in thought, I don’t notice the car until it stops right in front of me and a guy sticks his head out. “How much?” he calls out.
Shaved head, tattoos on his arms, and I get a shiver of unease.
I glance down the street, but traffic is really non-existent today. Just my luck. “I’m not free,” I say. “Someone’s picking me up in a minute.”
“That so?” He throws the door open and gets out. Fuck, he’s huge, taller and wider than me. “We can be quick.”
Dammit. Belatedly I start to back away, the cold making me sluggish. Too sluggish, too slow, and he catches my wrist and drags me away from the street corner.
Toward the alley.
Ah fuck.
“Cash upfront,” I manage as he shoves me against the graffiti of the wall. Hell, he’s bigger than me, and I might be bruised and cold to the bone, but I’ll fight the bastard over this and make no mistake. “Fifty for a blowjob, hundred for—”
He fishes out his wallet, and I’m so relieved to see him take out a condom along with the bills that my fucking knees go weak.
When he pushes me down, I go willingly. A blowjob then. Fuck, okay. This is what most guys want. Quick, easy, clean. He gives me the condom, and I tear the package open as he undoes his pants. He smells foul, and… and he’s not Raine, dammit, and it shouldn’t fucking matter.
I’ve done this job a thousand times. I know how to make it good, and if it wasn’t for the guy’s painful grip on my hair, which apparently isn’t as short as I’d hoped, I could have lost myself in the motions.
But he doesn’t like me forgetting what I’m doing. He pulls on my hair hard enough to jerk my head, pinpricks of pain dotting my skull, and before I’m done, he shoves me back so hard my head hits the wall.
Ow, fuck. For a second everything goes black, and then he’s on me again.
I hadn’t mistaken his type. He kicks me in the stomach, and my burrito dinner comes right back up. I bend over, retching.
Once I’m done, he hauls me up one-handed and punches me in the face, snapping my head to the side.
Jesus fuck.
Something hot drips down my cheek, and I wipe at it, smearing blood all over my fingers. A cut right below my eye, looks like. Swallowing hard, I clean my hand on the front of my tank top.
“Fucking faggot,” he mutters, which makes me wonder what he considers himself to be, then. “Goddamn fairy.”
And then he rolls the condom off his dick, wraps his hand around his hard-on, jerks it and comes all over me.
