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)
Dimly, the sound of a phone buzzing registers. Someone has sent Leka a text. He must not like it because he curses.
“I have to go,” he says.
“Of course you do.” I slam the freezer door shut and turn around, leaning against the fridge.
The anguish on his face is gone. His jaw is set and his eyes are blank. It’s his work look. I hate that dead expression.
"Stay here and keep your phone on you,” he orders.
I know better than to ask, but I can't keep the question out of my mouth. "Where are you going?"
"Out."
And who protects you while you’re out? I think.
“Is it dangerous?” I have to know.
"It's…" He pauses and averts his eyes. Leka hasn't ever lied to me—at least, not outright. He hides things, but when confronted directly, he will never lie. I learned that when he carted me off to elementary school.
"It's what?"
"Strippers. We're having a company dinner at a strip club." He shoves the phone back into his front pocket and palms the abandoned shoulder holster. "Don't leave. Please," he tacks on.
My first instinct is to tell him to go to hell, but I’m emotionally worn out. All I can muster up is a warning. “If you touch one, I’ll cut your fingers off."
“I’m not touching anyone," he replies, shrugging on a jacket to hide the gun.
In a strange and sick way, the gun makes me feel marginally better. He really is going to work. You take singles if you’re going to have fun, not a weapon.
He stops at the door. With one hand on the door, he turns back and finally looks me in the eye. "I'd rather stay home than go to this."
I give him a tight nod of acknowledgment. The reassurance isn't much, but I'll take it. Once he leaves, though, I decide that I'm going to do a little shopping. He's not going to be the only one tortured by jealousy tonight.
29
Leka
She bought a dildo. The credit card fraud alert is for a bland company called FHP. I’m about to reject the charge when I recognize Bitsy’s card. As the crew piles out of the Escalade, I google the company. For Her Pleasure is a sex shop in midtown that touts itself as providing same-day delivery all hours of the day and night. The amount charged matches the “deal of the day,” one six-inch version that touted itself as close to the real thing.
I clench the phone in my hand until my knuckles turn white. A dildo is better than a real dick attached to a real man, I tell myself, but that truth doesn't make me feel better. All I can see in my head is a dick-shaped object delving between Bitsy’s thick thighs slick with her cream.
Can I be jealous of a rubber thing? Because I am. Because I want to reach through the computer and choke everyone who is beyond this stupid site. When I get home tonight I’m burning that piece of crap.
She must know I look at her credit card statement. I pay that bill monthly, although she hardly charges anything to it other than food, tampons, and lotion shit to pretty up her face. Not that she needs anything to make her look better. She’s fucking gorgeous. It’s why I sent her to an all-girls school where she’d be dick free.
“You coming, Leka?” Beefer sticks his face in the auto. “Everyone’s waiting.” I look up from the screen, and whatever is on my face makes Beefer take a step back. “Bad news?”
“I’m going home.”
I reach for the latch to close the car door, but Beefer resists. “No way. Unless your apartment is burning down, you need to come with us. You’re a live wire. If you don’t blow off steam, someone’s going to get hurt. And like you said earlier, we can’t afford to lose manpower. Not with a run tomorrow. You don’t have to stay long. Just wet the whistle, play nice with the girls, and let your boys know you’ve got their backs.”
Outside, the crew stands impatiently stomping their feet and blowing on their hands as they wait for me to claw through the reeds of heat and jealousy that threaten to choke off all good sense. If you don’t blow off steam, someone’s going to get hurt.
He’s right. I nearly broke down earlier. If she’d managed to make contact, I would’ve lost it. I climb out of the Escalade and join the crew on the sidewalk.
Snow, a new enforcer, greets me. “Didn’t think you were getting out of the car, Priest. Not to worry. I’ll protect you from those big bad strippers.”
He slaps his knee as he laughs.
“I thought he had a honey stashed away and doesn’t want us to find out,” chirps PJ with the same floppy-bang haircut that Snow is sporting. PJ’s a fairly new recruit but good with a gun. In fact, most of the crew is. There are very few guys still with us who’d worked when Stinky Steve was in charge. Cesaro cleaned house in every arm of the organization, wiping out the old guard. Everyone below me and Beefer got spared. Lucky, I guess.