Takedown Teague

by Shay Savage

  “Things are warming up,” I heard myself say.

  “Needs more,” Krazy Katie said.

  “I’d be happy to turn the clock forward to spring,” I told her.

  Krazy Katie’s head snapped in my direction, and she glared at me for a second. Her eyes were dark, wild, and totally unnerving, even to a guy who had about a hundred pounds on her.

  “What?” I asked, my voice a little quieter. “You want me to turn time backwards instead?”

  “All men are idiots,” Krazy Katie proclaimed. “She’s gotta find the one with the level of idiocy she can put up with.”

  “Who?”

  Krazy Katie shoved her hand inside the front of her shirt and began to rummage around inside her bra. She pulled out her lighter and quickly lit another cigarette but didn’t answer me.

  “Who?” I said again, but I got nothing in return. I shook my head and decided maybe I was a bit tired after all. I tossed the butt over the edge and crawled back in my window, nearly killing myself on the overgrown pile of laundry just inside.

  I should’ve cleaned up the apartment a bit, but I didn’t. I found myself looking at the dresser in my bedroom. More specifically, I stared at the bottom drawer. I knew what was in there though I never opened it. I wasn’t even sure why I kept that shit. I should have thrown it out long ago.

  I had to pry my eyes away from the drawer and take a few long breaths. I tightened my hands into fists, which wasn’t very helpful. In my mind, I could imagine myself wrapping a bit of plastic tubing around my bicep and curling my fingers to make a vein show up a little better.

  I shook my head sharply to rid myself of that thought.

  Forcing myself to move away from the bedroom, I opened a beer, talked at the television for a few minutes, and then headed for the shower. Once I started lathering up, my cock decided he needed some attention. Since I wasn’t actively seeking any of the female kind, he had to settle for my hand. He complained a bit—I have a stubborn, moody cock—but once he figured that was all he was going to get, he sprang to life.

  I sighed heavily as I leaned against the cold, broken tiles and slowly stroked myself into a full erection. I skimmed the darkened head with my palm and closed my eyes. For a while, I didn’t have anything in particular in my mind—just the basic, general, physical feeling of skin-on-skin. After a minute or so, dark brown eyes kept entering my head and trying to get my attention. As soon as I allowed myself to focus on them, I knew exactly whose they were.

  Tria’s face flowed easily through my mind as my hand gripped my cock and pumped faster. I could see the glistening of her lips after her tongue ran over them and the pale, enticing skin just below her neck. I imagined what she would taste like—her lips, her tits, her cunt…all of her.

  I nearly drew blood out of my own lip as I bit down to keep from screaming her name loud enough for her to hear me through the thin floor. A long stream of semen coated the tiles in front of me, was captured by the flow of water from the showerhead, and disappeared down the drain.

  “Damn,” I muttered.

  After I gave myself another quick rinse, I turned off the water and wrapped up in a towel. The TV had been left on, so I grabbed the remote and hit the power button. Inside my bedroom, I yanked at the bottom dresser drawer until it opened. The drawer was devoid of clothing. The only thing inside was a small plastic box. I looked away immediately and slammed the drawer shut.

  With a huge sigh, I grabbed the sweats I had worn the night before off the floor and pulled them on over my still slightly damp skin. I dropped heavily onto the bed and pretended I wasn’t still thinking about her.

  I was never one to harp on anything, but I had the feeling getting her out of my system wasn’t going to be easy.

  Chapter 6—Meet the Ex

  “Fuck!”

  Falling to the ground, I growled through my teeth and slammed my fist against the floor.

  “God dammit!”

  My feet became entangled, and I was unable to get up. I swung one leg out, trying to unravel myself from my opponent, but I was too deeply entwined. I fell back to the floor.

  “Shit!”

  I punched again.

  “Ow!”

  And hit my own leg.

  There was just no other choice—I was going to have to do the laundry before it killed me.

  *****

  Thump thump thump.

  I had no idea what was flopping around in the dryer, and I didn’t care. The sound was driving me over the edge, and I was considering just going over there and hauling whatever it was out, even though it wasn’t my load. I looked around at the seven other people at the laundromat, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

  With two trash bags full of clean clothes at my feet, I waited for the last load to dry so I could get the fuck out of this place. I wasn’t sure if it was the act of washing and drying clothes, the atmosphere of the laundromat, or the sheer boredom of waiting for the damn clothes to dry, but there was nothing I hated more than having to do laundry.

  If my Uncle Michael had walked in right then and offered me a job, I just might have taken it.

  “Nice ink.” A leggy blonde eased herself down in the molded plastic seat next to mine.

  “Thanks,” I replied. I could see a wavy vine motif in green and black ink winding its way up her calf.

  “Where did you get it done?”

  “Emily’s Body Art, across town,” I told her. “She does the best tribal art, and I wanted something custom.”

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. Her hand grazed up my bicep to my shoulder, where the remainder of the tat was covered by my shirt. “Can I see the rest?”

  “Sure.” I leaned forward and pulled my only clean—well, somewhat clean—ripped up T-shirt over my head. Turning a little to the right, I gave her a good view of my back.

  “Wow,” she breathed. Her fingers skimmed over the design, and her light touch was both sensual and a little ticklish. I kept myself still as she touched my decorated skin. “Truly incredible. Bet that one cost you.”

  “Heh,” I snickered. “More than I could really afford, but it was worth it. Emily’s also has a payment plan, and I did it in ten shorter sessions to spread it out a bit.”

  Her hand reached my lower back and then started up the other side. It felt good, and I was again reminded of my pathetic excuse for a sex life, which had pretty much turned into twice-daily self-love sessions while thinking about my neighbor.

  Fucking pathetic.

  “Very nice,” she said as her fingers reached my shoulder, trailed over my neck and back down to the arm where she started. As she ran her hand over my bicep, I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the tats anymore.

  I turned back to her with a crooked smile, and she tossed her shimmery, straight hair over one shoulder and tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck to me.

  “I’m Erin,” she said as she held out her hand.

  “Liam.” I shook it briefly, noticing how soft her fingers were.

  She was a looker—no doubt about that—and probably right about my age, give or take a year or two. Her clothes said she was desperately trying to look like a Macy’s girl but with a Target budget. She was decently built though a little skinny for my personal tastes. I would have no trouble holding her against a wall and pounding into her for twenty minutes. Nice long legs with defined calf and thigh muscles that would feel nice wrapped around my waist. I could definitely hit that, but I had no interest whatsoever.

  None.

  Did I turn gay when I wasn’t looking?

  Mostly I was wondering how it would feel if Tria ran her hands over my skin the same way. That thought was enticing, and I blinked a couple of times to try to drive it from my mind. That’s when the buzzer from the dryer in front of me went off, startling me slightly.

  “That would be me,” I said quietly. I stood and grabbed the last of my trash bags, tossed all the dry clothes into it, and gave the chick one last grin before heading out
of the laundromat and back to my apartment. It took freaking forever to fold it all up and put it away, and I was in a foul mood before I was even done.

  “Fuck it,” I growled as I dumped the last of the clean laundry into a dresser drawer and just shoved it all inside. I needed to get out and do something physical before I burst.

  Wearing a pair of shorts that smelled a whole lot better than they did earlier in the morning, I laced up my running shoes and started my run several hours later than usual. It was after three in the afternoon and already hot enough to bring the sweat out of me before I had gotten through the first half-mile. By the time I got to the tree, I was a lot more winded than usual, but I pushed on.

  I still wanted to bring Tria to see the only tree in the general vicinity of our apartment building. I’d mentioned it to her a couple of times during our walks when she talked about missing the greenery—and apparently the cold—of her hometown. I just never saw her during the day and wasn’t going to make that trek in the middle of the night. Though our nighttime routines seemed to match perfectly, we weren’t at all in sync during the day. I hardly ever saw her in sunlight.

  I saw her often enough in the privacy of my shower and my imagination, though.

  Turning the last corner, I saw the apartments looming in the distance and increased my speed until I hit the sewer grate that marked the completion of my three miles. There was a rusted green pickup parked right out front, and I wondered how something so old could actually still run at all. I slowed to a stop and leaned over with my hands on my knees and breathed heavily for a few seconds, then took a fast-paced walk around the block to cool down.

  Returning to the building’s entrance, I yanked open the front door, started down the hall, and was immediately hit with the customary sounds of a couple fighting inside. For a moment, it didn’t register with me—I was still in a post-run haze and wasn’t thinking clearly. The voices belonged to a man and a woman who were obviously in a heated argument in the apartment just below mine, which wasn’t an odd occurrence at all.

  Except that couple didn’t live there anymore.

  Tria did.

  I stopped in front of her door and leaned in, trying to figure out if it was just TV noise, but I could clearly hear Tria’s voice, if not her actual words, coming from the other side. Then a deeper, male voice boomed out in anger.

  Already heated from my run, the rage that quickly built up inside of me made me feel as if I were going to burst into flames. I took a deep breath before knocking loudly at the door.

  The voices continued, ignoring my banging. If anything, they were getting louder. My chest tightened, and the possibility that someone might have gotten in there and was going to hurt Tria was just far too likely. She was too trusting and had no street sense whatsoever. She’d open the door for anyone.

  “Tria!” I screamed as I pounded my fist against the flimsy wood. I was going to give her about four seconds before I broke the fucking door down. “Tria! Open up now!”

  The door fell away as my hand tried to come down on it again. I quickly pulled the punch. If Tria had been any taller I might have hit her in the face.

  “Liam, what are you—”

  Without a word, I moved across the threshold into the apartment and toward the figure on the other side of the room. As I started to push past, I zeroed in on a big, dark-skinned guy behind her. Before I got too far, I felt her fingers against my chest, trying to push me back.

  An explosion of thoughts ricocheted around my head. Tria’s soft, light touch on my sternum was the third time we had ever touched skin-to-skin. It took me off guard, and I had to stop in my tracks to refocus beyond the sensation.

  The angry glare of the dude behind her reminded me why I was there.

  “What the hell?” I shouted at the guy, pushing my chest firmly against Tria’s hand but not enough to move her out of the way. Tria glanced nervously from me to the figure behind her.

  “It’s all right,” she started to say before the bastard on the other side of her interrupted her sentence.

  “Who the hell is this, Demmy?”

  Demmy? Why the hell would he call her Demmy?

  “I’m the guy who’s about to fuck your shit up, that’s who!” I snarled.

  “You can try!” the little shit exclaimed. I would have laughed, but I was too pissed off. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen, and though he was tall and decently built, he didn’t stand a chance with me. I knew another fighter when I saw one, and this guy wasn’t it. He didn’t look right; he didn’t stand right; and he didn’t move right. He was probably one of those that used his height to his advantage—intimidating others with it to the point where he never had to actually raise a fist.

  “Liam!” Tria’s tone stopped me.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” the guy said, taking a step forward. The fingers of Tria’s right hand tensed against my chest as I pressed against them, and her left hand went out to push at the other guy’s shoulder to keep him from coming any closer.

  “I live here,” I growled.

  “What!” His eyes went dark as he turned to face Tria and started screaming at her. “He lives here, Demmy? Seriously? You shacked up with some monkey in this dump?”

  “He lives in this building, Keith. He doesn’t—”

  “Fuck you, you little pup,” I yelled. “Where the fuck do you get off talking to her like that?”

  “That’s none of your fucking business—”

  “I’m making it my business!”

  “—you fucking dick. Now get the fuck away from her—”

  “Get your ass out of her apartment before I—”

  “Stop it! Both of you!” Tria’s voice managed to carry over both of ours.

  I tried to breathe through my nose to settle myself a little, but it didn’t work at all. I just ended up sounding like a raging bull or something, which was fitting because I was ready to charge. The second Tria was no longer between us, I was going to rip this fucker’s head off.

  He glared at me for a moment before looking down at Tria.

  “Who the fuck is this?” He snarled at her, and I pushed forward a bit again. The feeling of her hand against my bare chest was seriously distracting, and I had to concentrate to keep my focus on my goal—killing the motherfucker who dared talk to her that way.

  “This is Liam,” Tria told him, “my neighbor.”

  “Your neighbor.” The guy scoffed. “Does he always act like this?”

  “Fuck you, you piece of—”

  “Liam!” Her eyes blazed into mine, adding to the heat scorching my body. What was it about angry chicks that made them look so hot? She shook her head sharply. “This is Keith, my…um…a friend from home.”

  “Friend from home,” he echoed sarcastically.

  I really wanted to beat the shit out of this guy.

  “Yeah, he’s very friendly,” I snarled.

  He took a step forward, and Tria ended up straightening her arms to push both of us away from each other. He grabbed her arm to move it away.

  “Get your fucking hands off her!” I screamed as I headed toward him, no longer concerned with Tria’s hand on me though she managed to keep the contact as I moved. Going around to her left, he was no more than two steps away. All I needed to do was to pin him down and go to town.

  I was going to kill this guy.

  “Please, Liam! Stop it! Please!”

  Until she begged me not to.

  Dammit.

  My chest continued to rise and fall as I attempted to get a hold of myself. I took a couple of steps backward, allowing Tria’s hand to fall away from my flesh. The spot where she had been touching me went cold as I glared at the stupid little intruder.

  Keith.

  Stupid name for a stupid little shit.

  “You need to go,” I told him. “Get the fuck out of here right now!”

  “I’m not going anywhere!” Keith yelled. “We were having a private conversation—”

 
; “Which you made public by fucking screaming at her!”

  “I am not putting up with this shit.” Keith tossed his arms up in the air and turned around to walk further back inside. I should have taken the opportunity to knock him out cold since he had his back turned, but Tria’s hand found its way once again to my chest and tensed against my skin as if she knew what I was thinking.

  I looked at her, and her wide eyes pleaded with me.

  “You should go,” she said. “It’s okay—really.”

  “Bullshit,” I replied. “I’m not going anywhere as long as he’s acting that way.”

  “The way I’m acting?” Keith snorted. “Do you even hear yourself?”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, fucktard.”

  “Liam!”

  “Yeah, Liam.” Keith sneered. “Why don’t you go crawl back into whatever hole you came from?”

  “Keith!”

  “Very clever,” I replied. “Did you go all the way through sixth grade just to learn that one?”

  “Demmy, you cannot be serious about staying in this dump with this idiot!”

  “Keith, I’m not going anywhere,” Tria said. Her voice was soft but cold. “This is my home now. I’ve got classes, I have a job, and I can afford it just fine. Liam’s been helping me out—”

  “Yeah, I bet! Helping himself, more like.”

  Yeah, I was going to kill him.

  “Keith! That is enough!” Tria turned and moved toward him. I started to follow her further inside, but one glare over her shoulder stopped me in my tracks. “He’s been a good friend. I’m just fine here, and I’m not going back home—not until I get my degree.”

  “That’s four years, Demmy,” he whined. He fucking whined.

  “At least you can count.” I sneered at him. “Now why don’t you try counting the steps outside? I’d be happy to accompany you.”

  Tria glared at me again, and I huffed a long breath out my nose.

  “Yeah, he’s obviously a great guy.” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. “I bet your dad would be really proud of you shacking up with—”