The only person I could talk to was Leila, but soon, too soon, I was sick, and she couldn’t deal with it the way she had been. There was no more joking and laughing or making fun of Mom and Dad for all their crazy behavior. She was one of them, and I was alone again, trapped in a place where I was constantly trying to make everyone feel better.
For now, I want to not think the worst, because I can’t deal with what will happen to those I love if I have to tell them that I’m sick again. It may seem selfish not to want them around, but it’s how I feel.
“It wouldn’t be fine though, would it? I won’t lie to you and say something that I don’t feel, Mika, and honest to God, the thought of you being sick again scares me,” he says somberly, looking me dead in the eye.
But that’s Hawk, right? The man just doesn’t know how to run from things, and I think I love that about him. He faces them head-on and doesn’t bullshit.
“So, now that we’ve been all heavy and gross with each other and I’ve eaten and taken the pills, wanna watch TV with me?” I ask hopefully, needing the distraction and his company just in case I start feeling like a lonely loser.
His mouth twitches, and I still.
“Don’t! Gosh, Hawk, don’t smile. You might start an earthquake,” I yell dramatically, wincing when my head gives a protest.
He does grin then, and goodness, the man is spectacular when he smiles, I think, holding my breath and just staring.
“What?” he grumbles, stretching out beside me and reaching for the remote.
I’m a little speechless, and I can only gape at him when he turns to frown.
“What?”
“You, uh, you should smile more, Hawk Wylder. It’s a beautiful sight,” I whisper, sincere and more than surprised when he winks at me and his mouth twists ironically.
“I know, babe. Just don’t want to be swamped by adoring females everywhere I go.”
The arrogant man.
“Oh, please, could you get any more egotistical?” I mutter, grabbing the remote when he changes to a sports channel.
I skim the channels and see Melissa McCarthy throwing a watermelon at some idiot, her running style making even Hawk laugh out loud. We watch it all the way through, laughing so hard I have to pause to get through the laughing fit before I can continue.
“Oh my God,” I yell, snorting like a pig when she shoves a knife into Sandra’s leg, my mirth so strong I choke on my own spit this time.
Hawk just grunts, his body shaking because no one, not even this man, can refuse to laugh when a fat chick and an uptight FBI agent partner up to be law enforcement bad girls.
I enjoy it immensely, especially the way he roars when the bloopers come on and the guy playing the albino comes on screen.
“Holy shit, I think that’s one of my favorites,” he chuckles, wiping his eyes as the credits roll.
“Yeah. And Spy. I love that one too. In fact, I think I like all of her movies. She just has something that never fails to make me laugh,” I say, yawning because, as much as I enjoyed the movie, it’s been a struggle to keep my eyes open for this long.
Hawk sees it and jumps up, his ass in those boxers making me wish I could stay awake. Oh mama, what a girl couldn’t do to an ass that nice, I think, blinking sleepily and humming my thanks when he pulls the duvet up and tucks me in.
“See ya in the morning, Meeks.”
“Night.”
Hawk
I stay awake staring at the ceiling for a long time, the memory of Mika’s laughter making me smile even as I close my eyes in pain. I’ve never done that before, just chilled with a woman that isn’t blood kin or involved with one of my brothers, and I liked it.
I really liked the way she’d slap my shoulder when something really funny happened and the way she snuggled her head into my shoulder and giggled.
I don’t think she even realized that the sheet slipped twice and flashed me one of her amazing breasts, but I sure did, and holy God in heaven, the woman has a perfect set of breasts.
They’re round and firm with nipples the shade of, well, they’re pink, a soft pink that makes me think I could turn them red by sucking them for hours.
I was turned on in seconds but so comfortable with just being there with her and enjoying the movie that I didn’t focus on it like I would have with another woman.
That in and of itself gave me pause because I don’t do companionship with chicks. I have sex, flirt, have some more sex, and then hit the road. I’ve had one relationship before, and I can’t even call it that because Jolie was one of those manicured Barbie dolls I met while trying to get close to the Gambini boys a few years ago.
She was into the danger of being with a guy like me, and I used her to get into places I wouldn’t have gotten into otherwise. We worked for a while, the sex and lack of emotion making things easy for the both of us.
She eventually moved on when a general in the Gambini outfit took a shine to her, and they’re now married and populating the earth with more little criminals in the making.
But yeah, even with Jo I didn’t do this kind of thing. We talked about business and who was killing who or paying off some crooked politician. We had sex. And then we’d go our separate ways until the next time.
I never had dinner with her alone or talked to her about how she was feeling, and I never once turned on the TV in lieu of sex.
With Mika though…it wasn’t hard. It was nice. Comfortable. Peaceful, and that right there tells me that I should get her home fast. Before I do something like kiss her because, fuck, do I wanna kiss that woman and touch that body I’ve seen twice now.
I don’t even know how I undressed her this afternoon without touching her. Not after I saw her nipples peek with the cool air and looked down to see her sex through a pair of gossamer thin panties.
I love a tease, and hell, did it tease when I caught a glimpse of her folds and started wondering what shade they are.
I resisted though. I mean, nothing makes a guy lose a boner like a woman feeling like death, so I covered her back up and spent the day checking on her and playing games on the PlayStation, my mind wandering to her every few minutes.
It finally got so late I started worrying about what would happen if she didn’t call Leila, so I found her phone and got lucky with one-two-three-four as the code.
That reminds me. I really have to tell her to change that shit to something more reasonable.
But I got in and sent the text, all the while burning to read the ten unread texts on her phone. It got to the point, after an hour of constantly glancing at it and dying twice in the game, before I just gave up and read the damn messages.
I’m still pissed about what I read, and I will kill Joe Riley as soon as I can figure out a way to make it look like an accident.
His messages alternated between calling her the worst names, begging her for another chance, and then back to the name-calling again. Which makes me worry about this situation because, as far as I can remember, she wasn’t even with this punk for any real stretch of time.
But then again, Mika isn’t really the girl who does long-term relationships lately. I heard Leila telling Mom once that it worries her that Mika doesn’t seem to want anything long term, that she finds reasons not to stick with a guy after only a few weeks with him.
Look, I have no room to judge Mika for anything, especially not if she doesn’t want to settle down with a guy she doesn’t love. I feel the same way.
Settling, after everything that has happened, isn’t something I would do. In fact, I’d rather die that old grumpy man Lynx accused me of being than spend my life with a woman I don’t really love.
I did hear something else from Leila though, something that makes me feel terrible for Mika. She was in a relationship, in college, and from the way Leila spoke, I think she really did love the guy, the first guy she was actually committed to.
And then one day she just wasn’t with him anymore. That doesn’t sound like Mika. The woman is loyal
and kind and very loving. She’s one of the most calm and held together women I have known—with a mouth like a trucker, I think, laughing softly—so whatever had her running from a relationship, with nothing to say on the subject, isn’t something good.
I’ve seen the woman stare her date down without saying a word, heard her cuss a man out for being a pig she’d rather die than see again.
But that was the first time I heard she’d just walked away.
Chapter Six
Mika
I want to say that I hate Mondays. I want you all to know that I hate Mondays, and the reason for this feeling is waking up back at home after having Hawk nag me all Sunday before finally conceding and dropping me off at home when I told him I feel better.
I don’t really, but I had to get out of that house before he got any sweeter and made me feel and say things I shouldn’t. So, I went home to an empty house and regretted leaving him because I sorta missed the way he’d stretch out on the bed beside me and let me choose the movie.
I feel a little better. Not by loads or even in a way that I feel like I can safely say that I won’t die from the headaches, but I can walk upright just fine, and eating isn’t so bad anymore.
The medicine is helping a lot.
But back to Monday. I fucking hate this Monday because I have a nagging ache at my temples and now this.
“But I clocked in at seven!”
“Look, Alfred, the freaking machine does not lie! You got here at eight forty-two exactly, a full hour later than you should have been here, and I won’t put it down as anything else,” I say, my voice level as I stare the man down.
He’s got his hand on my desk, leaning into me as if he can get me to agree with him through sheer intimidation. That is the one part of my job that I hate. Men on work crews come and go sometimes. They come back too. But one thing that remains unchanged is that they hate talking to a woman and having to bend to her.
Which is what they should be doing when I tell these schmucks that I don’t lie on hours. Lynx and Pop are already generous with the minimum wage they’ve set for their guys, so I don’t see why they should pay for hours that did not see any results.
Not on this project at least, where it seems that one disaster after another has happened. It’s getting old fast to have materials delivered only to come back the next morning and have the tally come up short.
I have personally ordered wood, checked the delivery, and signed off on the stuff, and then they come back and tell me it’s not right. I am frustrated, annoyed that Pop seems to think I could be wrong, and then annoyed again when I have to deal with men who try to take advantage.
“You bitch! This is bullshit. Something’s wrong with that machine.”
Highly unlikely, I think, shaking my head at his snarl. I’ve been here since seven, when I just couldn’t stand being at home alone anymore and came in early.
I saw everyone who’s come into the site yard, and I know for a damn fact that Alfred was not here.
“The machine’s just fine, Alfred. You came in late,” I say again, tensing when his face splits into an ugly snarl.
“You fix my time cards! If the bosses see them, they’ll fire me. You want that on your conscience?”
“Nope. But the time card doesn’t lie,” I say slowly, flinching when he slams a hand onto my desk and starts swearing at me.
“I have three kids and a wife who rely on me! I need this job.”
And I get that, even feel terrible about it, especially if he gets sacked, but he’s been a constant pain for weeks now, and I can’t keep covering for him. I changed a time just last week when Lynx was in here at nine, raging and asking me where Alfred was.
The man does dry walling along with two other guys on the crew, and having him off, or late, slows down the work drastically. I lied and told him he should be on site, that he’d clocked in, when, in reality, I did it for him and then fudged the time on the card.
Lynx finally found him having coffee in the food tent, and I know from seeing him that he’d strolled in just a half hour ago. So, yeah, it’s not just me who’s not happy with him, and I understand that if I put this time on his card, he’ll get fired, but I can’t do anything else.
This is my job, and don’t think Pop or Lynx won’t fire my ass if they have to.
“I’m sorry—”
I don’t get to finish the apology or explain that Lynx wanted me not to help him again, because one minute, I’m talking and the next, I’m up against the wall, two hundred pounds of snarling man holding me up by the throat, feet dangling as I struggle and try to get loose.
“Sorry? How sorry can you be when you’re a mean bitch with no mercy? I can lose this job. I won’t lose this job. Now, I am warning you, you goddamned woman, you change those times or you won’t be on this site for very much longer. Accidents happen all the time. Sure be a shame for a pretty little thing like you to get hurt.”
The threat is clear, not that I care at the moment because I can’t breathe and my feet are off the ground so high, his body so close, I can’t kick him where I need to.
Black spots dance around his face, and I gasp, clawing at his hand because the harder I try to breathe, the harder it gets. Alfred doesn’t like me, he never did, and the violent, almost sadistic pleasure I see right now is so great I fear for my life.
“Please.”
It comes out a choked gurgle, but he just grins and leans his face closer, his fetid breath making me gag when it hits my mouth.
“Change the cards or I won’t be the only man around here watching you ‘have an accident.’ You hear me—”
My heels scrabble against the wall, and I think I may pass out soon, when suddenly Alfred is gone and I’m falling, sliding down the wall onto my butt.
I’m gasping for breath and confused for a few seconds until I blink my mind clear and peek over the desk. I hear a snarl, flesh meeting flesh, and the unmistakable cries of a man begging for his life.
“You fucking lowlife. You touch her ever again and I won’t just beat your ass. I’ll kill you.”
Punch.
“Pop! Call the police.”
Punch.
“Lousy motherfucker.”
Bone-crunching punch that makes my stomach turn.
“You don’t ever fucking touch her again.”
The last punch lands on Alfred’s bloody face, and I blink to see Lynx rise, standing over him with fists clenched and his teeth grinding. He’s breathing hard and snarling still, his face so hard when he looks down at Alfred I feel my spine go stiff.
“Lynx?”
I manage a croak because my throat is aching from the force of Alfred’s hands clenching around it, but I need to see the man who just saved me, and when he looks at me and blinks, his eyes softening, I manage a smile and almost collapse when he comes close and pulls me into his chest.
He’s still pissed. I can feel it in the way he stiffens when the mangled mess on my office floor moans, but he’s trying to comfort me, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Pop is standing at the door, yelling into his phone and looking at me with panic.
“You okay, Meek? Dammit, I told you not to argue with these fools anymore. You just nod and come tell me if they’re bugging you.”
I nod and sniffle a bit because I want to cry now that the fear has worn off and shock has set in. I’ve only ever been that scared twice before, and both times was with how I was not able to fight against what was happening. First cancer, then that Grant guy kidnapping me, Tiff, and Leila, and now this.
This one is worse though because I know that if Lynx hadn’t come in, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but dangle there and probably black out from lack of oxygen.
That truth is that I couldn’t do a thing, and that makes me feel so weak and helpless at a time when I can’t afford to feel that way.
“Sorry. I…I didn’t think he’d just come at me that way,” I choke, blinking back tears when he cups my face and starts turning my nec
k to check the damage.
“Sonofabitch, Meek, just look at what he did to your neck,” he snarls, kicking Alfred again, viciously.
“Girl! You okay?” Pop asks, rushing in as soon as he’s got the police coming.
“Fine, Pop. I’m fine,” I say, accepting his arms around me when Lynx steps back to glare at Alfred.
“As soon as this filth is off our site, I’m calling a meeting to talk to those men out there. I won’t have this happening again, and short of asking you to leave, I can’t do anything but make it clear that they’ll all die if so much as a hair on you is misplaced.”
My heart returns to a normal rhythm at that last part, and I sag with relief when it’s evident that he’s not about to tell me I can’t work here anymore. I love this job. It’s the only one I’ve had besides Morty’s where I can do what I need to do and not pander to people.
And I love Pop and our lunches together.
The police get here quicker than I expected, and after they take statements, I let the EMTs check me out, promising that I am fine and I don’t want to go to the hospital no matter what Lynx says.
Then I get to stand out in the yard and listen to him threaten to kill, murder, bury bodies if anyone so much as raises their voice to me. In fact, he bans all personnel except himself and Pop from my office and tells them that if they don’t like it, they can get the hell gone.
The rest of my day is spent with me trying to get work done while begging Pop to go work instead of babysitting me all day. By five I am so ready to leave I almost run off site when the hour hits.
I get home in record time, and once I’m behind closed doors, I let myself cry the way I wanted to moments after Alfred attacked me.
This just won’t do. None of it! I’m feeling better physically, thanks to the pills and Pop’s constant feeding all day, but I still have so much hanging over my head and now this.
It just will not do!
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