Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Want You |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Jen Frederick |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
Bitsy: I might be only nineteen, but I know what I want. It’s Leka Moore. I don’t care that he took me in when he was barely more than a kid himself. I don’t care that he raised me. I don’t care everyone thinks being with him is wrong. I know we belong together, and the only person I need to convince is him. Leka: I found her in the corner of a dark alley. If I hadn’t taken her with me, she would’ve died that night—or maybe worse. Before I knew it, she became the light in my dark life, the haven from the madness. I watched her grow up. I tried to teach her right from wrong. Now that she’s an adult, I’m feeling things that no good man should ever feel. But then…I’ve never been a good man. I have a chance at redemption by saving her from the greatest danger of all—me. | |
| Books by Author: | Jen Frederick Books |
Part I
1
Leka
Scritch.
Scratch.
A rat, I think. I glance to my left to make sure. My job depends on silence and swiftness.
Instead of a small animal, I see a small human crouched in the corner, just beyond the doorway of a crumbling brick apartment building I’m using as cover. Behind her, a big wooden fence blocking off the end of the alley looms upward. Her big eyes glisten with fear.
She draws her feet closer to her, making that scratching noise. Her dirty, threadbare tennis shoes are rubbing gravel against pavement.
We both hold our breath and stare at each for a long moment. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I finger the blade in my sock. Could I? I run my thumb around the hilt, imagine lifting it to the girl’s chest. My hand falls away.
No.
I don’t have the balls to do it.
Instead, I press a finger to my mouth. Shhhh, I warn silently.
I need her to be quiet. She covers her mouth with a grimy hand and nods. It’s risky to trust her. She could ruin this for me unintentionally. Or she could scream and out me on purpose. I give her one last hard look before peering around the corner again.
Officer Dumbfuck has his back to me. He’s feeling up a prostie. From my position, I can’t tell if she’s willing or just suffering through it. Most of the beat cops that work this section of the city dip their dicks in the community wells without paying. They tell the girls that payment is not getting dragged down to booking.
I feel sorry for the working girls. They get it from both ends—the pimps and the cops. And if the pimps find out that their stable is giving it away for free to the boys in blue, there’s hell to pay. For those on the street, the whores have it the worst.
Nah. Strike that. Rent boys are somewhere below the girls. It’s the worst sort of contest. With Stinky Steve’s gang, you either serve a purpose on your feet or on your back and the only way out is a bullet in the head. I flip the silver disc between my fingers. Good thing I’ve got some skills, or my callouses would be on my knees, not my hands.
A clink of metal against metal provides me the signal. It’s go time. Officer DF loosens his duty belt and pushes down his pants. They sag under his white, hairy ass. His fat fingers fumble with the hem of the girl’s skirt. I dart forward, clinging to the shadows. He’s inside of her when I reach him. Or, at least, he’s busy thrusting into something and doesn’t notice the loss of the police radio from his belt.
The prostie doesn’t notice either. Her eyes are closed. Probably focusing on something pretty to get her through this bad fuck.
Because I practiced, it takes me less than thirty seconds to bust open the radio, insert the bug and then return the radio to its holster. Another thirty seconds has me back into my hiding place behind a dumpster. Good thing, too, because Officer DF is a three-pump chump. His loud groan of satisfaction fills the alleyway.
I check on the girl, whose face is filled with confusion. She mouths something to me. I can’t read her lips, so I back up until my body brushes hers. I dip my head low and point to my ear.
She bends forward, whispering so lightly that I can’t even feel her breath on my skin. “Is man hurt?”
I shake my head no. She slumps backward, her small brow bunched together.
There’s the sound of a hand slapping flesh. I poke my head out to see that it’s just him tapping the whore’s ass and not her face.
“Dammit, Patty, you made me come too fast,” he complains as he hauls his pants upright. “Next time you’re gonna be on your knees, sucking me good. You hear me?”
Patty replies, but her voice is too quiet for me to make out the words. It must be a yes, or something close to it, because Officer DF slaps her ass again before zipping up.
“Good girl. Now, we’re going to have a probie working next week. Don’t come on to him until I give you the okay. Got it?”
This time she nods.
“We don’t know if he’s into this or not. If he’s not, he’s probably a fucking twinkie, but your guy sells boys, too, right?”
Patty shrugs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I work for myself,” she says.
Officer DF pinches her chin. “You lie to me and it won’t be good for you.”
Patty twists her head out of his grip—which I think is a bad idea. She’s thin and small. A bundle of toothpicks held together by stretchy fabric. The cop agrees. He punches her in the gut. She folds in half, her cry of pain filling the alleyway. My fist clenches at my side, and my gut churns at my own helplessness, but I’m no hero. If I go out and help Patty, I’m gonna get nailed.