“Sure thing.” I keep my voice even and casual. A smile lights up the broad’s face. She’s gonna be real disappointed in a minute.
I yell at Tony, “Her next drink’s on me!” and then turn back to her. “Have a good night, sweetheart.” I leave cash on the bar and head out, ignoring the protests from the pretty little thing I’m leaving behind.
At least she got a free drink out of it. She’ll find someone else. I’m just not in the mood.
I turn on my heels, giving Tony a curt nod when he catches my gaze. He looks like he wants to ask a question, but I’m not one who likes to talk. He should know that by now.
I walk out the back exit where it’s less crowded and get in my Audi without a second thought.
Damn, tonight could’ve been so fucking good.
The drive is an easy one. I live close to work, and play close to work, too. It makes life easy.
I twist my hands on the leather steering wheel and grip on tighter. I fucking hate today. Not what happened, just the fucking date. It always reminds me of things I'd love to never have to think about again. Every year it seems to get worse.
As if knowing I’m feeling like shit, Nikolai calls. His name and number pop up on my dash and whatever fucking music was playing is replaced by a ringtone. I push the button to answer as the streetlight turns green.
“Nikolai,” I keep my answer short, and my voice even. He’s the underboss, and in a way the one person who saved me. I hardly talk to him or to the boss, Vlad. But every year he reaches out, without fail. He’s the only one who knows how much it affected me.
“I’m sorry, Zane; I forgot.” His voice is etched with sincerity, and I believe him. “I went to the club expecting to find you there, but they said you just left.”
I trust him alone out of all the Koranavs. He never shows emotion. Never. It’s something that makes you appear weak in this line of business. Even Vlad’s anger and hot temper make him look like a loose cannon in my eyes. But on this date every year, Nikolai always opens up to me. He's done this ever since it all happened.
“No need to apologize. I’m doing alright.” As I say the words, the pain comes down harder on me. I twist my hands on the leather again and glance out the window as I come to another stop. I just wanna get home now.
“I’d believe you if you went home with some pussy, but they said you didn’t.” He says it with a touch of humor in his voice and it gets a short, rough laugh from me. I run my hand through my hair and stare at the stoplight.
I remember the feel of Maddy’s ass in my hands, and my dick starts to harden. Yeah, I’ll be fucking fine. As long as I can work and fuck, I’m fan-fucking-tastic. I try to forget Maddy and her soft curves. Fuck. I close my eyes, willing my dick to not get hard for a woman I can’t fucking have. I haven’t jerked off in years, not when I can get laid whenever I want. I’m sure as shit not doing that tonight.
“Promise you, it’s all good,” I tell him.
“If you say so.” From his tone I can tell he doesn’t believe me. I don’t blame him. Anyone who was forced to kill his father would be fucked up. Even if his father was an abusive fuck like my old man.
It happened years ago, but fuck me, I can’t let it go.
I was only ten or so when I started stepping in front of my mom to take the hits. I couldn’t stand the way he hurt her. I tried to protect her. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought she loved me.
I woke up one morning to him screaming about how “the bitch left.” The beatings only got worse after that. Because of course to my father, I was the reason she left. It’s hard to imagine it wasn't true. Why else did she leave me with him?
My old man was more than just an abusive drunk though. He was a degenerate gambler, and got into some serious debt with the mob.
Nikolai, Vlad and two soldiers who are probably long dead came for him when I was fourteen. They found him beating the shit out of me, but I was fighting back. I didn’t have much weight to me since I’d barely hit puberty, but it didn’t stop me from fighting back.
The mob doesn’t like witnesses though, even if they are just kids.
Nikolai spoke up for me. Said he’d teach me. Vlad put a gun in my hand and gave me a choice. Kill my father and join them, or die with him.
It might sound like an easy choice, but it was harder to pull that trigger than I thought it would be. So many nights had passed where I wanted him dead. I swore one day I’d kill him for what he did to my Ma, and what he did daily to me. But when it came time, I almost chose to die with him.
He stared up at me and instead of telling me to do it to save my life, he called me every name in the book and spit on me. Maybe he did it to make it easier for me. But maybe he really did fucking hate me.
I think you always love your parents somewhere deep down inside. Even if they don’t love you back. Even if they don't deserve it.
If it wasn’t for Nikolai, I never would’ve survived.
“Yeah, I’m alright. Just wanna crash tonight,” I tell him. “I’ve got an appointment tomorrow I wanna get up earlier for.” That’s true in a way.
“Good to hear. It’s always nice to get lost in your work.” I can see him nodding the way he does. I grew up with Nikolai as my only father figure despite the fact he’s not even a decade older than me. It wasn’t optimal, but at least I had someone.
It sure is fucking nice to get lost in work. He taught me that. I’m not gonna lie, I was a fucking punk kid growing up. I graffitied everything I could. Got in trouble a few times for it. The first time I went to jail wasn’t for fighting, it was for tagging an abandoned building.
Nikolai was pissed. He said the mob doesn’t need delinquents, and getting in trouble for dumb shit puts a target on my back. So he got me a job at a tattoo parlor. They smuggled drugs out the back of it. I didn’t care though. I just wanted to get my art out there. And Nikolai said it’d be good for me. He told me not to fuck up, and to take it seriously.
I got a reputation pretty fast—a damn good one, and the family hooked me up with my own shop. I was eighteen with my own business, and had clients who fucking loved me. The only condition the mob gave me was that they would handle the books, and they were free to use the back for whatever they needed. I signed that day without thinking much on it.
A few weeks in, Garret and Vlad came into my shop and told me they needed me to cover up a tattoo on a body. I wanted to say no, but I knew better. She was a young girl, maybe my own age, and a member of an MC gang. Garret tossed her on my table and said the tattoo that could identify her needed to be covered. Her body was covered with bruises of varying colors, making me wonder how long they’d tortured her. But what was worse was that she was still bleeding. They’d used a knife on her and mutilated her.
I almost threw up looking at the poor girl. Vlad said they’d “had a little too much fun with her.” I kept my composure and quickly added a layer of art to the dead girl’s tattoo, but I knew then what kind of sick fucks they were, and that I didn’t want anything to do with them. But it was too late. I didn’t have a choice. The memory sends a wave of sickness through me. I thought then that I’d have to get used to that shit, but it’s only happened the one time. Thank fuck. Other than that day, they stay out of my business, and I stay out of theirs.
I hate being under the mob’s thumb.
I can’t deny that they could have killed me. Nikolai saved my life, and gave me something to be proud of. And I do love my shop and my work.
I wish it was just mine. After all, people come to me for a reason. They want a Zane original. My art on their bodies.
Maddy comes to mind as I think about how I’d love to put my art on her. I start thinking about what I’d go with, but then I push that thought away. It’s pointless to think about.
I pull up to my condo, coming to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never see her again. To my left I see a car I don't recognize at the neighbor’s place. I’m always aware of that shit. Just in case. You can
never be too laidback when you’re involved with the mob.
I guess they finally got the place rented out.
It’s a cute little car. I’d bet good money a woman drives it. I check out the tags as I lock up my Audi. The locks slam down, and a small beep rings through the night.
Georgia.
Whoever they are, they’re a long way from home.
Chapter Five
Madeline
“Watch what you’re doing with that!” Katie yells at one of the moving men who's attempting to pick up a heavy ornamental vase from inside the moving truck. It's the day after the disastrous night at the club, and we're busy moving into our new condo. Despite what happened last night, I’m pretty excited about starting a new chapter in my life. “That’s a special gift my mom gave me as a graduation present!” she squawks.
“Sorry,” apologizes the young guy, who looks barely older than eighteen. He gently picks up the vase and carefully walks off the van, moving as if he’s carrying something worth more than gold.
Hands on her hips, Katie growls, “You better be.”
“Jesus, Katie,” I complain, shaking my head and wiping at the sweat on my brow. It's a sweltering ninety-five degrees outside and I feel like going inside and flopping down on the floor and enjoying the cool AC, but Katie insists I help her oversee the moving.
At least I’m not one of these guys, I think with sympathy. They’re doing all this hard work for less than minimum wage. And to make matters worse, they have Katie making their lives even more miserable.
To fight the heat, Katie and I are dressed in cutoff shorts and midriff-baring tank tops, but I’m still sweating like a dog.
“You didn’t have to be so mean to the kid. He hadn’t even picked it up yet.”
Katie turns to scowl at me. “Did we, or did we not pay these guys out of our hard-earned student loan checks?”
I snicker at the thought of our student loans being ‘hard-earned’. I guess I know what she meant though, since it’s not like we won’t be paying exorbitant interest rates after college. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can just treat them like that--”
Cutting me off, Katie turns to watch the young guy make it off the moving truck and onto the sidewalk with the giant vase. “Okay then. I can tell them whatever I want, especially when they’re handling things that are dear to me.”
“Psycho,” I mutter under my breath, giving up.
“Hey!” Katie screams when the guy almost trips stepping over the sidewalk. Luckily, he regains his balance without dropping Katie’s precious vase. “Watch it, clumsy!” After the guy makes it into the condo unscathed, Katie turns on me with a murderous glare. “See,” she says flatly.
“Why are you being so bitchy today?” I demand.
“Because I have a nasty hangover.” About time she admits it.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk so much.” I don’t know why I even bothered responding though. She never listens to me. At least she didn't wake me up at 3 a.m. by puking into the toilet.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have run from the club and left me stranded,” she says without missing a beat. Fuck, that hits a nerve. I do feel bad about that. But what the fuck was I supposed to do? She wasn’t going to leave with me, and I needed to get out of there before I did something I’d regret.
I wipe at a trickle of sweat running down the side of my face. “You know what? I’m too hot to deal with your shit today. Can we not do this, please?”
Katie bites her lower lip and says, “Sorry,” even though I know she isn’t. “Speaking of hot, I can’t believe you turned down that Zane guy!”
“I can. The dude was an asshole.” I’m not sure why I’m lying to her. Zane hadn’t done anything particularly wrong, unless you can call making me want to have sex with him a crime.
Just speaking about him brings up the memory of how hot I felt against his body, and how much I wanted him inside of me. When he pressed up against me, I could feel it. His cock was fucking huge. Somehow I get a little hotter thinking about what he could have done to me with a dick that big. I can’t help but feel a little regret, but I know it was the right move to leave him there. Wasn’t it?
“Who cares? If it was me, I would’ve fucked him every which way but sideways even if he'd slapped me around and called me his bitch.” She thinks for a moment, and her frown morphs into a naughty smile. “In fact, I think I would rather enjoy that.”
“Katie!” Thank God my face is already red from the heat so she can’t tell how much the idea of him doing that to me turns me on, too.
Katie looks at me with typical feigned innocence. “Wha? That guy was the hottest guy I’ve seen in a long time. I would've killed to have him lusting after me like he was after you.”
“He wasn’t lusting after me,” I argue. “He just wanted to buy me a drink.”
“He wasn’t? Remember how he shoved that other hot guy down in his seat just to get to you?” Fuck, that was hot.
“Nope.” The word comes out easy as I shake my head.
“Liar. You said he had you up against the wall in the hallway, ready to bang your brains out.”
The image of his lips being inches away from mine flashes in front of my eyes and I try hard to push it away. I wish Katie would stop going on about Zane. Thinking about him just makes my temperature rise, and it’s already hot as hell. “What does it matter now anyway? I’ll never see him again.”
Which is a good thing, I think to myself. He was nothing but trouble.
Katie shakes her head at me in sympathy. “You just don’t get it, do you? You’re so scared to live a little just because of what happened between you and Zach that you’re missing out on the simple pleasures in life.”
“How is going home with a total stranger and getting screwed by him 'missing out'?” I demand. “If anything, it cheapens me.”
“Are you kidding me? That guy was hot as fuck, with a big ass dick to match.”
“And how would you know what he’s working with?” Despite my question, I agree with Katie. When Zane was pressed up against me, I felt his bulge. And if the size of it was an indication of anything, he was hung like a horse.
“Did you see the size of his nose?” she says with a wink.
I roll my eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“And you need to get laid. Preferably last night. Hey!” Katie yells at the other mover. “Don’t carry that like that!”
Katie begins badgering this guy about how to properly carry a box of her precious items of God knows what, even going as far to follow him into the condo, leaving me alone in the hot sun.
I’m about to follow her in when I see a box with my name on it on the back of the truck. If memory serves me correct, it's filled with a bunch of personal hygiene products that I don’t want anyone to see. I’ll take my tampons in myself, thank you very much.
“I’ll just get that, and then I’m staying in the cool air until they’re done,” I mutter to myself. “I don’t care how much Katie bitches and whines at me.”
I jump onto the truck and grab the box. It’s not that heavy, but it’s awkward, and I make it off the truck before I have to set the box down to try to get a different handle on it.
“Need help with that, peaches?” asks a deep, familiar voice.
Oh my fucking God.
I look up into that cocky grin and those beautiful blue eyes. Instantly, images of last night are back in my mind and I’m filled with burning desire. Dressed only in a pair of blue jeans that are ripped at the knees, Zane is standing in front of me with his shirt off.
I can only marvel at his incredible body. Seriously, his abs looked like they were etched by a grandmaster mason, chiseled to perfection. To make matters worse, a sheen of sweat covers his entire torso, and droplets are running down the hardened lines of his stomach muscles. I have to fight an extreme urge to want to bend over and lick it off.
If I thought I was burning up before, now I'm in the fiery pits of hell.
“What are you doing here?” I croak with disbelief, trying to keep my eyes level with his face and not that washboard stomach of his.
Zane’s grin grows wider and his eyes seem to assess my body, making me feel even hotter. He’s pleased that he’s shocked me. “I live right there,” he says, nodding to the condo that's directly next to mine.
I gape with shock. Seriously, I’m fucking floored. What are the odds? What are the odds that I meet this guy at the bar and run away from him, only to find out that he lives right next door to me?
One in a billion, I think to myself. Fuck! I can’t run away from him now.
“You’re shitting me.”
Zane chuckles. Fuck. Even his laugh is sexy. “Nah. Actually, I was surprised myself when I saw you guys out here. I was like, no way. Apparently fate's decided to bring us back together again.” The way he looks at me conjures up the memory of running from his sexy touch. His eyes are telling me I’ve committed a crime, and he won’t let me get away with it.
“Then fate must be fucked up in the head.”
Zane throws back his head and laughs again. “You’re funny, I’ll give you that.”
There's nothing funny about this situation. I ran away last night because I knew Zane was nothing but trouble, and now fate's put him right next door.
Almost as if to torment me.
“And sexy,” he growls throatily, his eyes roaming all over my body.
I suddenly remember what I’m wearing, daisy dukes that hug my ass cheeks and a cropped tank top that bares my midriff, and I blush furiously under Zane’s appreciative stare.
God, he makes me feel so sexy. Wanted.
“Yeah, somehow fate changed the name of my street to Candyland Road without even telling me.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “It’s alright peaches,” he winks at me.
Right then, Katie comes back out of our condo with one of the moving guys in tow. She stops and stares when she sees Zane, her jaw dropping. After composing herself, she walks over.
Inked: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance Page 4