The Token 4 (New Adult Dark Romance)

by Marata Eros

  He says those words, and I can't breathe. What he’s implying is what I wish most to hear.

  “How can he get away with it? You've got thousand-dollar-an-hour lawyers. They could pick the meat off his carcass.”

  “Oooh... so violent.” Mick jerks me under him and covers my nipple with his hot tongue.

  My hands twine through his hair, my legs fall open and he crawls more deeply between them.

  “You presume to know how much legal team costs?” he asks around my moaning.

  Mick brings his teeth together on my nipple in a gentle bite at the same time his fingers find me again and I groan.

  He abruptly takes his hands off me.

  “Do you?”

  I shake my head, wanting him over me like flesh covered steel.

  He puts a finger on my mouth.

  “Tagger thinks I'm fucked in the head. That my best friend from high school raped and murdered my sister, and I hid it from him. He believes her death meant so little to me that I opened a string of successful strip clubs.”

  “The Black Rose,” I say.

  They're all for her.

  Rose McKenna.

  “Her death did mean that much.”

  His eyes fill with passion, and he squeezes my hips. “Her death is not going to be for nothing. Every stripper who works for me doesn't have to worry about their safety—that it might be their last dance.”

  Mick rolls onto his back, and I throw an arm over his torso. Our erotic mood is muddled by the heavy conversation.

  “I can't forgive Thorn for doing the lap revolutions,” he admits.

  I don't look at him but answer, “You have to.”

  I hate Thorn, I understand Thorn.

  Mick needs him; Thorn's a part of the fabric of who Mick is.

  “Why?” The hand that had been stroking my back stills.

  “Because he did it for you.”

  Mick's silent as we lay there, my head resting on his shoulder. “He killed one of your sister's murderer's.”

  I can't believe I'm defending Thorn.

  “I'm aware, Faren.”

  “He went to jail for it.”

  Mick pulls away.

  “Thorn put you on the laps of men who don't deserve you. He was running illicit shit behind my back.”

  “All true.” My eyes peg him to the bed, my arms wrapped around his.

  “But he did it for you. He wants to pay you back.”

  Mick groans and falls back.

  “He doesn't need to.”

  I smack his arm.

  “He thinks he does—don't you get that?”

  Mick's eyes narrow. He grabs me, flips me over, and puts his knee against my naked sex. “I think what you don't get is that I'm done talking.”

  He flattens his lean body against me, and I feel him against me, ready to split me apart with his cock.

  I groan, moving my legs farther apart.

  “I thought I had to 'rest,'” I say with airquotes.

  Mick captures my wrists and pins them above my head, a favorite position. He nods, kissing me so thoroughly I can't speak. Moisture pools.

  “I'll go slow,” he says.

  When I don't object, he adds, “And Faren?”

  “Yes?”

  “If I ever see you with another man, I think Tagger will be able to jail me. Legitimately.”

  He kisses the tip of my nose.

  “I can only understand so much. A man can only forgive so much.”

  His eyes search mine, and I nod within the cradle of his hands.

  He punctuates his point by nudging me, the tip of him begging entrance.

  I forget Thorn, debt, my illness... almost everything.

  Except Mick.

  ~ 8 ~

  “Oh my god!” Kiki swoons back in her chair.

  “I don't know if god has anything to do with it,” I say, but I'm smiling.

  “You gave it up,” Kiki swings her palm up and I slap it, a goofy grin riding my face like a permanent fixture.

  “I did.”

  Her brows sweep up. “And you told him why you did the laps?”

  I nod.

  “What's that face for? Girl, you had to tell him.”

  “I know.”

  I bite my lip.

  “Still doesn't feel solid?”

  I shake my head. “I'm just so used to not having help, to trying to maintain a low profile.”

  “Well, suck up your g-string and say yes for goddamned once.”

  Kiki goes to her stove and pours hot tea into two cups. I gaze out her windows and see a slice of Puget Sound, churning and gray.

  She sets a steaming cup in front of me.

  “So?”

  I take a sip and my brows hike. “So?”

  “Don't be fucking coy. Deets, baby.”

  “He won't take no for an answer. He's taking over Tannin's monthlies.”

  “Thank whatever's holy!” Kiki slams her palm on the table, and a little of her tea joins the sodden bag on her saucer. Kiki squeals like a holy roller,

  “I've been healed!”

  I laugh, but sober quickly. “I feel bought and paid for,” I say.

  “Okay, whatever!” Kiki rolls her eyes. “Let's go over stud's good points—”

  “Mick.”

  “Mick-shmick.”

  She ticks his assets off on her fingers.

  “Money, hot-in-the-sheets, his give-a-shit meter still works.”

  She lifts her brows again, and I reluctantly nod—all true.

  “Great sex.”

  “You said that,” I point out.

  “Does it bear repeating?” Kiki throws her hands out, waiting.

  Hell yes. My cheeks heat.

  “Yes.”

  “Now that's what I'm talking about! Buck up, Faren.” Her chocolate eyes don't let go of my gray ones. “Don't dick this up. Live in the now.”

  Kiki realizes what she just said and her face falls.

  “I'm sorry—”

  “It's okay. I know what you meant. Technically, you're too right.”

  “He doesn't know about...?”

  I shake my head. “I'm thinking one revelation at a time. You think he's up for the lap dancing, my mom's debt and my terminal punch card?”

  Kiki puts her head in her hands, peeking at me through her fingers. “God, you're so harsh on yourself.”

  I shrug. I've spent weeks coming to terms with it. As much as anyone can.

  “Actually, my short lifespan bothers me less and less.”

  Kiki is obviously surprised.

  I dip my head. “Yeah, I've actually been worried about Ronnie reappearing and making it shorter. Or…” I look down at my hands and my foot jiggling underneath her table. “Not having ever been with Mick.”

  “It's about damn time! I was about to call in reinforcements.”

  I laugh. “You were, were you?”

  Kiki gives me a serious look. “Ah, yeah. Legit. I thought you'd leave this blue marble without ever getting anything Faren Mitchell wanted but a tough hand.

  She's right of course.

  “So tell all.”

  I don't know where to start, but the burn of my embarrassment flares to life again on my face.

  “Wow, look at you blush. It must be something.” She scrunches her nose. “My first time hurt like hell.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly. “And he didn't know.”

  “Oh my god, don't tell me he just rammed you with the beef fuel injection!” Surprise unhinges my jaw.

  Tea spurts out of my mouth, making a wet mess on her glass top.

  “Gross! Faren, ya pig—calm your tits!”

  “I can't help it! Your description… And no, he didn't just impale me.”

  My head drops, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

  “Well, later he did.”

  “Ha!” Kiki shrieks, jiggling her ass on the tall chair. “Knew it!”

  She waggles her brows.

  “So you got the whole tam
ale?”

  “I think your verbiage is off base. He put it in my taco.”

  Her brows pull together. “Ah... are we talking Mexican food or anatomy?”

  “It's all body parts.”

  Kiki leans forward. “I know the first time isn't that hot....”

  “It hurt. Then it was hot.”

  We stare at each other like co-conspirator's. “The second time was amazing.”

  “Ooh!” Kiki squeals.

  “Twice! Ya slut!” She cocks her head. “Weren't you sore?”

  I nod.

  “But somehow that didn't matter.”

  Kiki flops back against the chair, tea forgotten in front of her.

  She fans her crotch.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Fanning my vagina. What does it look like?”

  I bark out a laugh. “Huh... that's...”

  “About where that's at. So Mick...?”

  I fold my arms, putting my spent tea bag inside the empty cup. “We're not going to play house, I've got my house—he's got his.”

  “Stubborn.”

  I shake my head.

  “It's not that. I don't want to overtake his life. And when I get sicker… Well”—I look down—“I think he's the kind of man who wouldn't make me leave but wouldn't want that burden.”

  “Shit! Faren!” Kiki yells.

  A small squeak erupts from me.

  “What?” My eyes jerk around her condo. Everything looks okay.

  “What about protection?”

  I groan.

  Kiki chastises me, eyebrows to hairline, “You're such a prude. Still—”

  “No, you're just so out there with it all.”

  “I'm not much for sugar-coating the turd, sweet thing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Uh-huh, what?”

  “I'm on the pill. The day after I met him, I rushed my butt to the clinic and got loaded up.”

  Her shoulders sag with relief. “Okay. When you were giving me the play-by-play, I missed the throwing-the-raincoat-on-the-umbrella part.”

  I laugh. “Huh?” Oh.

  “Protecting the pecker?” she prompts.

  “I gotcha!” I say, a tad grumpy. I'm not a moron.

  She frowns, tapping a nail on the table. “Y'know, it's weird he didn't ask. Most guys live in terror of knocking someone up or having a surprise kid.”

  Her face lights up. “I got it! He's trying to trap you.”

  “No.” I smile. “Mick McKenna has a boatload to lose if I get with child.”

  “With child? That tickles my ass hairs.”

  “You don't have any.”

  “Brazilian, baby. It's a wonderful thing.”

  I shudder, imagining the pain.

  Kiki smirks.

  “You'll stay at your place, he'll have his...”

  My cell chimes.

  Jay: Hey, we still on for tonight?

  I gulp, and my palms sweat.

  Me: Yes. I have the time. Did you decide on the place?

  I wait for the response. When it comes, Kiki watches my face.

  She hops up from the chair and circles the table, peering over my shoulder to read the text.

  I tap out my answer.

  Me: see u then.

  “That sucks so bad.”

  She hugs me, and I wind my arms around her.

  “It's such a joy-suck.”

  Yeah, that too.

  “Just keep your eyes on the money, chickie.”

  “Don't I always?” I say.

  Kiki strokes my hair as my tears dampen her shirt. She doesn't pull away or complain.

  “Yeah, hun. Yeah, ya do.”

  *

  The same glass elevator encases me.

  The view doesn't move me.

  Nor does the ride.

  The doors whisper open, and I glide out in heels that used to feel awkward but now feel as though they're an extension of my body.

  The maitre'd escorts me to a table only one away from the one Mick and I used.

  Jay stands, and somehow it's a little like seeing my teacher outside of school.

  He's a handsome lap with healing bruises, and I realize he's a person.

  Who needs to eat.

  Who breathes, sleeps, has a life. Wants more.

  That old shame nips at my heels, and I stomp it out.

  Money.

  Thorn has it, and he’ll return it to Jay if I don't do this last thing.

  Jay moves to my side of the table. My shoulders shiver when his hands brush over them, and he kisses the back of my neck.

  Only Mick's lips have touched me there, and I feel so much like I'm cheating on him that my stomach clenches. I struggle not to pull away.

  Jay mistakes my trembling for want.

  “This is so much better. No irate playboys to break up our fun.”

  Playboy?

  A cold lump settles in my gut. I can still feel Mick’s weight between my thighs. It's a memory I never want to escape.

  Jay watches my face. His dark hair glints blue in the candlelight, and his hazel eyes glitter back at mine.

  I cast my gaze to the floor, but this is the Space Needle. The floor revolves, making my stomach turn harder.

  I snap my eyes back to Jay's.

  He moves back to his side of the table and sits.

  His finger strokes the rim of his wine glass, over and over. The crystal sings with a bell-like ring. It's just short of making me wince.

  “I know your boyfriend,” he says like a question.

  “He… Mick's my boyfriend.”

  I don't know if that's technically true, but it sounds right.

  “Too bad.” Jay leans back in his chair. “I was hoping you'd switch it up.”

  I feel my face stiffen. “Um... I thought this was about enjoying a night out with me, not discussing Mick.”

  “McKenna could get in a lot of trouble for beating the shit out of me, Faren Mitchell.”

  My heart thunders. He knows my last name. More importantly, he knows Mick's.

  I don't bolt, even though every muscle begs me to.

  “No,” I say, reaching deep for bravery.

  “Whatever this is”—I swing my index finger back and forth—“it's just one night.

  My eyes don't release him.

  “I'm not doing anything further.”

  A moment of silence engulfs the moment.

  “I've been to the police. Got my handsome mug immortalized like a Vogue photo shoot.”

  I think of Tagger.

  My bad hand trembles.

  “Why can't this be over?” Despair drips from every word.

  I don't really expect an answer.

  His stare bores into me.

  “Because I don't want it to be.”

  ~ 9 ~

  Jay’s not-so-subtle blackmail doesn't slow my step as I walk through the doors of my mom's medical clinic.

  I compartmentalize the bullshit. I can only take one mess at a time.

  Even so, I remember his parting words: I'll be in touch. They echo inside my mind, though I've put them on a shelf to gather dust.

  I charge up to the glass partition, very much like the one that is where I work as a PA and silently slide the ten grand through the slot.

  Her careful eyes look at mine.

  Curious.

  I don't waver. “Here's that final payment.”

  The girl smacks her gum and counts every dollar. Twice.

  “Okay, all here.” She clicks the bills on top of the counter to settle them into a cooperative stack.

  She laboriously writes out a receipt.

  Tears swim in my eyes as I see that word stamped on top of her loopy, round writing.

  Paid.

  It makes my soul lighter, weightless.

  “Hey, ya okay?” she asks. Heather, her name tag reads.

  “Yeah.” My heart is full. I’ve eased one burden… only to have a dozen vie for position behind it.

  But my smile i
s genuine. A perfect fit for a face that hasn't held one in a while.

  *

  I have to see what happened between Mick and Thorn. More importantly, I've made up my mind.

  Thorn's expression tells all. He's subdued—frazzled.

  “So, what happened?” I ask tentatively.

  His dark eyes rove my face. “You must have put a good word in for old Thorn.” He gives a disheartened laugh.

  “What?” I ask, leaning forward.

  He rolls those huge shoulders into a shrug. A flash of me holding onto them while he explodes underneath me sears me and is gone.

  God.

  I swallow. The sins of the past.

  “He said you guys talked.”

  He's straight-faced, and I sit on my hands to keep them still.

  I nod.

  “What'd you say? 'Cause we're not right, but it's better,” he says.

  “I told him how much it meant to you—to return what you'd been given.”

  Thorn crosses his arms across his chest, a tired wisdom permeating his gaze.

  “You're quitting.”

  I take a deep breath.

  “Yeah.”

  “I knew you weren't for this life Faren.”

  I look at my hands again. “Yeah, I was.”

  His dark brows lift. “How's that?”

  “I'm not better than any of those girls. I did it for the same reasons they did. Money.”

  “Yeah.” He scrubs his short hair. “But the difference is, the money wasn't the motivator. Your mom was.

  So we cool?”

  I lift a shoulder.

  “Yeah. I mean,” I look at him and give a nervous laugh. “I won't lie, you kinda scare me a little.”

  He doesn't smile. “I should.”

  I point at him. “See! You don't even try to make me feel safer.”

  “I'm not a good guy.”

  “That's not true.”

  It was hard for Thorn to show compassion toward me, but he had. Wasn't that worth something?

  He looks away, leaning back in his chair, and I notice his biceps look almost as big as my waist.

  He also has a rose in his tat sleeve I'd never noticed before.

  The men who loved Rose McKenna.

  His dark eyes pierce me, the whites so pure they're startling in his dark face. “Listen, I know this gism jockey, Jay.”

  My heart speeds, and my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

  His eyes flick to me then away. “He's done some deals with Mick, but they've never met. He let me keep the money, so I know you had your date with him.”