American Street Kings: The Complete Series

by Bella J

  I didn’t hesitate after she gave permission, grabbing the spoon and digging into the thick slice of chocolate cake, fluffy frosting covering the top and sides. I hadn’t tasted anything like it before, the sugary sweetness of heaven that coated my tongue with every bite. It sure was no Twinkie, and the cake Glenn got on his tenth birthday wasn’t as nice as this one—at least not how I remembered it.

  Bite after bite, I ate that cake like it was the last thing I’d ever eat. Every mouthful was delicious, frosting clinging to my teeth, making the taste last longer. I didn’t stop until my plate was empty, until I had gobbled up every last crumb. Only then did I look up at my brother, realizing he hadn’t touched his cake yet.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked him. “Why won’t you eat your cake? Is your tummy sore again?”

  He didn’t respond. It didn’t even seem like he heard me. All he did was sit there, staring at our mother, his eyes hard and cold. I had never seen him like this, and it scared me a little, killing one excited butterfly after the other.

  “Glenn—” I started when the front door opened, voices carried in with the winter chill. “Dad!” I jumped off the chair and rushed to the front door, greeting him with the biggest smile, slapping my arms around his waist as I hugged him. “Dad, you have to taste the cake Mommy baked. It’s the best cake ever.”

  He smiled, brushing his hands through my hair. “I’m sure it is. No one bakes a better cake than your mom.”

  “Come on.” I grabbed his hand, not the least bit curious about the present Mom said he would bring me. I just wanted him to have a slice of the cake, and maybe then Mom would let me have another one.

  “Hold on, sweetheart.” Dad pulled me back to him. “I want you to meet my friend.” I turned, and only then did I notice the man who stood next to him. It was a young man, younger than Dad. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a smile as warm as a summer breeze.

  “You must be the birthday girl.” He crouched down. “My name is Jeffrey.”

  I tightened my hold on Dad’s hand. “I’m Dahlia.”

  “That is such a pretty name.” His dark eyes turned black, and I didn’t like the way he stared at me.

  “Jeffrey is here to celebrate with us.” Dad picked me up, and I chuckled. “It’s not every day that my little girl turns ten. Double digits.”

  “Why is he here?”

  All of us turned toward Glenn, who stood by the entrance to the dining room.

  “Like I just said,” Dad replied. “To help celebrate Dahlia’s birthday.”

  “That’s not why he’s here, is it?” I noticed his fists balled at his sides, his glare solely focused on Jeffrey.

  “Of course it is.”

  “No, it’s not.” Glenn’s jaw clenched, his eyebrows knitted together.

  Dad put me down before straightening again. “Do not be rude to our guest, son.”

  I didn’t like the way Dad’s voice went from warm and welcoming to cold and hard. More butterflies died.

  “Come on, Glenn. I think you should go to your room for a bit.” Mom placed her hands on his shoulders, but he jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “Glenn,” she scolded. “You’re embarrassing us. Stop it.”

  “No. Why is he here? Why did Dad bring a stranger home? What is he doing here?” he shouted. “He has to leave. This is Dahlia’s birthday. He has to leave!”

  Glenn was so angry, and he kept screaming and screaming. Mom tried to reach for his arm when he grabbed the long sleeve of her red dress, tearing it right off.

  I gasped. Mom’s pretty red dress was ruined, and her smile was gone. No. No. No. I wanted her to smile again. It was my birthday. Please smile.

  “It’s for your medicine, isn’t it?” Glenn threw the torn sleeve to the floor. “He’s here to hurt Dahlia so you can get your medicine. I won’t let you hurt Dahlia. I won’t let you hurt her.” Tears streamed down his face, but his eyes were still hard, jaw still set.

  Dad grabbed him, lifting his feet off the ground while Glenn kept kicking and screaming.

  “I won’t let you hurt her. You won’t hurt my little sister!”

  “Glenn, please.” I started crying. “Stop it!”

  I rushed to the corner, all the butterflies gone. Dead. Forgotten.

  I closed my eyes, Glenn’s screams mixed with Dad’s curses making my tummy ache.

  “Leave her alone! Don’t hurt her! I’ll kill you. I’ll kill all of you!” Glenn screamed, and then there was a loud thwack, a sound that cracked through the house. When I opened my eyes, Glenn was on the floor, eyes closed like he was sleeping. There was a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth, and I choked on a breath when I realized Dad had hit him.

  Mom was crying as Dad picked his seemingly lifeless body from the floor, carrying him up the stairs.

  I looked at Jeffrey, who still stood by the front door, hands tucked in his pants pockets, a slight smirk on his face as he watched everything that was happening. He didn’t seem frightened at all—not the way I was.

  Mom clutched her naked arm, and I noticed the blue and yellow bruises on the inside of her elbow. She wiped away the tears, pulled her palms down her dress, and wiped some strands of hair from her face.

  “I’m sorry about that, Jeffrey. Please, come have a piece of cake.”

  He smiled at her. “No problem at all. Kids will be kids.” When he turned to face me, I shivered.

  “Come on, Dahlia,” Mom urged, holding out her hand. “I think you should have another slice of cake. How does that sound?”

  I shook my head, Glenn’s cries still echoing in my head. Not even another piece of cake would be able to bring the butterflies back to life.

  “Come on.” She held out her hand, and with hesitant steps, I moved out of the corner, biting my lip, my cheeks still wet from crying. My birthday was ruined. Glenn ruined my birthday by misbehaving and being rude to Daddy’s friend. It was all his fault that my butterflies disappeared.

  It was all his fault.

  I sat down at the dining table and watched silently as Mom cut more cake. Jeffrey took a seat next to me, placing a brown paper bag on the table. “This cake looks delicious. I think we should have something to drink with the cake, don’t you?” He smiled at me, reaching out, gently tucking my hair behind my ear. I didn’t like the way it felt when he touched me.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Mom take the paper bag, peeking inside. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, almost like she smelled something she liked. Something wasn’t right. I felt it in my chest, the way my heart raced, willing me to run. Why did Glenn think Jeffrey was here to hurt me?

  Mom closed the bag. “I’ll go pour us something to drink.” She walked to the kitchen, and a part of me didn’t want to be left alone with Daddy’s friend. But I knew better than to call out after her, to beg her not to leave me alone here.

  I placed my hands in my lap, staring down at the slice of cake in front of me, no longer craving its sugary sweetness.

  “What’s the matter, Dahlia? You don’t like the cake?” He placed his hand on my leg, his long fingers wrapping around my knee. It felt wrong, the way he touched me. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I didn’t want Daddy’s friend to think I was rude.

  He shifted his seat closer. “Would you like me to feed you?”

  I shook my head, and his hand crept higher up my leg.

  “You look real pretty in that dress.” I swallowed while I felt his fingers slither up the inside of my thigh. “The purple color brings out the blue in your eyes.”

  I bit my lip, willing the burning tears away. Mom came back into the living room, and I exhaled, relieved that she was back and I was no longer alone with Daddy’s friend. But Jeffrey didn’t take his hand off my leg. He thanked my mother for the drinks then pushed my glass closer toward me.

  My mom smiled at me, but this time I didn’t like her smile.

  “Drink up, sweetheart. When you’re done with your drink, you’re getting your pre
sent.”

  I no longer wanted the present. The butterflies died. There was no more excitement for birthday parties, cake, or presents.

  “Drink up, Dahlia,” Jeffrey urged, his fingers drawing circles on my leg, my skin burning.

  I swallowed, my throat dry, my heart racing faster than it ever did before. My tummy felt heavy, achy, my arms and legs trembling. Something wasn’t right. The sweat beading at the back of my neck warned me that something wasn’t right.

  My mom.

  My dad.

  Glenn.

  Jeffrey.

  The brown paper bag.

  Something wasn’t right.

  “He’s here to hurt Dahlia so you can get your medicine. I won’t let you hurt Dahlia. I won’t let you hurt her.”

  Jeffrey leaned closer, and I felt his warm breath against my cheek. I didn’t want him to come any closer, so I reached for the drink as a distraction, a way to get just a little distance from the man who still had his hand on my leg.

  The soda tasted different, a little bitterness mixed with the sweet. The bubbles burned my throat as I swallowed, but I drank it all. Every last drop.

  “Such a good girl,” Jeffrey uttered, his words sharp like knives. He was here to hurt me. Glenn was right. Daddy’s friend came here to hurt me.

  He reached out, touching my chin and turning my face to his. But I didn’t look at him, keeping my eyes on the untouched slice of chocolate cake.

  “Your daddy was right. You are the prettiest little girl in town.”

  My heart hiccupped, my body numb. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted him to stop touching me, but I didn’t want to make Mommy and Daddy angry. I didn’t want to be punished again, locked in my room for days, having to pee on the floor. And I didn’t want Daddy to hit me the way he hit Glenn. But I wanted Jeffrey to stop touching me, and to leave.

  What do I do?

  What do I do?

  Jeffrey traced his nose across my jaw, and his breathing started to deepen. “You smell just as sweet as the cake.” His hand slipped under my dress, fingers brushing against my panties.

  It hurt. But not where he touched me. It hurt inside my chest. It hurt there where my heart pounded.

  I looked up at Mommy, pleading at her with my gaze to make him stop. But she simply smiled, her eyes hooded and heavy. She had the same look on her face whenever she took her medicine, like she somehow managed to escape this world—like she was flying high, far away from us. Away from me.

  When I felt him slip his fingers through the side of my panties, I jumped up. But as my feet hit the ground, I tripped, the world suddenly turning, spinning faster and faster. My head felt strange, and I blinked as my vision blurred.

  What’s happening?

  I tried to get up. I tried to reach for my mom, but she moved farther and farther away from me, even though she just stood there leaning against the entryway.

  “Mommy—”

  “It’s okay, Dahlia,” I heard her say. “You’re going to get your present now. A present only meant for big girls…like you.”

  I closed my eyes, dizziness making me feel sick. My stomach turned, and my arms and legs became numb. I didn’t know what was happening. All I knew was I wanted the butterflies back. I wanted to feel their wings flutter with excitement again, like they did before Daddy came home. But they never came back.

  Ever.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wraith

  Present

  It was after midday, and I refused to leave my bedroom. I just wanted to stay there and sulk like a little bitch, feeling sorry for myself. It had been a while since I allowed myself a pity party. Seemed like Onyx changed a lot of things for me.

  First, he managed to make me find pleasure in a man’s touch, then proved to me that I wasn’t just an object whose only worth was to get fucked. He showed me what it was like to be made love to, to be worshipped between the sheets instead of used against walls and tables.

  His touch. His kiss. The affection he showed me, it was incredible yet startling at the same time. For as long as I could remember, my brother was the only person who ever cared for me—at least that was what I thought, what I had believed my whole life.

  No man had ever treated me like something precious. But Onyx did. In his bed, he treated me like a queen, refusing to use me the way I was used to. Now I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to go back to my old life after that—after finally experiencing how it was supposed to be.

  Turning on my side, I exhaled, nestling my head deeper into my pillow. After Slither left my room, I dragged my confused and tired ass to my bed, and I stayed there for the last few hours. Slither wanted me to do another job for him, the kind of job that had always been my way of paying him back for taking care of me. The first few times he had me entertain some of his VIPs, I would throw up afterward and shower under scorching hot water until my skin turned crimson. But eventually, the self-loathing that came with the dirty deeds disappeared, replaced with a sense of duty. The jobs became easier, and I started playing the game like a pro, but I never got to a point where I was able to enjoy a single minute of it. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust felt vile, like a piece of my soul died every single time.

  But not with him. Not with Onyx. And it confused the hell out of me. Why would something that had always felt shameful and abhorrent turn into something that felt amazing and beautiful simply because it was him touching me, kissing me, thrusting into me?

  A tear slipped down my cheek and lapped onto the pillowcase. It had been a years since I found myself in this hole—a pit where nothing but darkness lurked. Yet all I could think about was how much I wanted to be with him again. How I longed to look into his striking blue eyes, hear his voice, feel his touch. Every fiber in my being urged me to go to him, to be with him…just one last time, without someone’s vendetta and orders forcing me to. But the question was, would I survive it? Would I be able to be with him without breaking, without giving away my true self?

  Turning on my back, I stared up at the ceiling, tears escaping down the sides of my face. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine his face, but the image in my head didn’t do him justice. It only made me want to see him so much more.

  “Ugh,” I sighed. “Fuck this.” I shot up and grabbed my boots, slipping them on before grabbing my jacket, revealing the knife beneath it. His knife. The knife I stole from him, replacing it with mine. I bit my lip as I eased a fingertip over the steel. Just this once, I wanted to do something I wanted to do, something my heart begged me to do.

  Just. This. Once.

  Onyx

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just past noon, a good enough time for me to grab an ice-cold beer from the fridge, cracking the lid and taking a large gulp.

  Ink was pissed at me, and rightfully so. I understood why he felt the way he did, but my decisions no longer affected me alone, which was why I had to think with my head—make the best decision based on facts and not personal opinions.

  Leaning against the wall, my mind wandered to the woman whose perfume still lingered on my pillowcases. Wraith. I had to admit, even though I was disappointed at her disappearance, I wasn’t surprised. She didn’t seem like the type who stuck around for pillow talk and romantic morning-afters. But, damn, there was a very big part of me that wished I had either cuffed her to my bed, or locked her in my goddamn room because I really fucking wanted to see her right now. And like Granite said, I didn’t have her number or know where she stayed. All I had was the memories of how her body felt against mine, how she surrendered, letting go of her demons only for a little while as I showed her what it was like to be taken by a man determined to give her pleasure rather than take it.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, pushing myself off the wall on my way to the stairs. That was when I heard it, the sound of a Harley out front. Immediately, my heart started to pound like a jackhammer, hoping like fuck it was her. I knew it wasn’t trouble heading our way since trouble didn’t come with a single engi
ne.

  Rushing to the door, I flung it open and stared right at her. I exhaled as I took her in. With dark circles under her eyes and splotchy complexion, she looked exhausted. Troubled. “You had me worried. I didn’t know whether you’d come back.”

  “To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether I would.”

  Unable to stop myself, I reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her inside the bar and slamming the door shut as I pressed her back against it. I didn’t know what it was, but whenever I was near her, I turned into this possessive fucker who would do anything to keep her, to make sure no one else touched her.

  I slipped my finger down her chin, settling it in the hollow below her throat. “Why do you keep running from me?”

  “I’m trying to save you.”

  “From what?”

  Her plump lips parted. “Me.”

  I smirked. “You know, for a man like me, that’s not a warning. It’s a fucking challenge.” I gripped her chin between my fingers, puckering those sweet lips of hers right before I kissed her so fucking hard we both groaned like hungry beasts. I didn’t care about her forewarning. As a matter of fact, she could have told me she was the daughter of Satan, and I’d still want her like I’d never wanted any other woman before. Our lips devoured, our moans collided, and our kiss fucking shattered every ounce of resistance. My mind, my body, my fucking soul were all invested in that one goddamn kiss. A kiss powerful enough to bring even a mean motherfucker like me to my knees.

  Reluctantly, I peeled my lips from hers but kept them a mere breath apart. “Stop running from me, Dahlia.”

  Her lips were red and swollen, her eyes desperate and hooded. “It’s not that simple, Onyx.”

  “Yes, it is,” I breathed out. “It is that simple. Everything in life is fucking simple. It’s us who choose to complicate shit. And right now, you’re complicating it by overthinking what’s happening between us.”