Page 19 of The Bitterness of Venom

She tilts her head. "That was hard for you, wasn't it?"

I roll my eyes. "Go away already."

She laughs, hopping off the stool and taking her boyfriend's hand. "See you around, Blaise."

Once she leaves the bar, I realize my face is sore. I poke it, grimacing when I realize I'm smiling.

"You can leave early tonight. Lynn needs the hours."

"Perfect." I toss the washcloth into the bin, taking off my apron. I grab my things, not paying attention to the glaring eyes that are following my every move as I walk to the exit. As soon as I'm out, I look for the SUV, finding it across the street. With a sigh, I look both ways, making sure no cars are coming before I walk across the road, climbing into the car.

"Little one."

Disgust rolls through me as I look at Clint. His face is hidden, as always, giving him an ominous look, but it's uncalled for because I've seen his face a million times.

The car begins to roll as I ask, "What do you have for me tonight?"

"Dinner."

I blink. "What?"

"You're going to have dinner with me tonight. So, hurry up. " He nods his head to my apartment. "Go get ready."

A sinking feeling drops to the pit of my stomach as I crawl out. I ignore the silence of the apartment as I walk through the living room to get to my room. Knowing Clint, I'll need to wear something nice. So, I slip on a red dress he made me wear to a casino one night. It's tight, short, and I hate the way he leers when I enter the car again, but on such short notice, it's all I've got.

"You look beautiful, as always."

I give him a smile, but it's so fake I can tell even he doesn't buy it.

Clint is dangerous, but I can usually predict his moves.

Color me shocked because I have no clue what his angle is this time.

TWELVE

I pullup in time to see Blaise running out of the apartment in a killer red dress, climbing into the same damn car I saw her in a little over a week ago. She has to be a prostitute. There is no other explanation. Right?

I follow the car, my eyebrows scrunching together as it pulls up to one of the high-end restaurants in town. We don't have many of those here, but this one is hard to get into. Maybe she's an escort? The driver gets out, opening the back door and helping her climb out as an older man follows behind her. He wears a suit—gray—but I can't make out his face from here. Either way, he has money. That much is obvious.

There is no way for me to get into the restaurant. Not in my simple sweater and jeans. They have a dress code, because of course they do. Rich people and their fucking rules and need to feel important. I may be rich, but I don't need to feel important. IknowI'm important.

I kill the engine of my car, watching the restaurant door as if they'll turn around and come back any second. My eyes narrow as I will her to come back out. Call me crazy, but if she's my entertainment, I want exclusivity. And by her facial expressions tonight when the nameless girl crawled into my lap, so does she. Instead of focusing on the door, I pull out my phone, reading over my text messages.

Mom: I hope you'redoing okay. I miss you.

My mom's text is the only one with any substance. The rest are a mixture of booty calls and naked pictures. And a couple of weeks ago that would have thrilled me, but not now. Not when I've tasted her cunt and became addicted. Not when I've watched fear enter her lust-filled eyes as she dangled over the edge of the bell tower. My hunch was proven right, she's still terrified of heights. She should have kept that little bit of information a secret when we were kids because I plan to torture her with it now.

I read up on pre-season stats, not loving that we are below the top ten. We had a rough season last year. Too many injuries, not enough teamwork and spirit. We looked like a bunch of cocky assholes who didn't have the skills to back it up. That's why we had to do a team building exercise over the summer—if you call our coach leaving us out in the middle of nowhere with one item per person, his own little version ofNaked and Afraid, a team building exercise. I got bugbites in places bugbites shouldn't be. He let us keep our clothes, but it was by far the worst three days of my life. But it got the job done. I can tell from our practices that we work a lot bettertogether now. As a goalie, I’m basically on my own. It’s me, myself, and I to protect the goal. I like it that way. I don’t work well with most. I honestly should have picked a sport that wasn’t team-oriented, but I fell in love with the ice, like so many hockey players before me.

I look up just as Blaise leaves the restaurant, not going to the SUV, but walking down the sidewalk. I don’t miss the way she flinches when the guy she came with touches her, spinning her around. My hands grip the steering wheel as I watch them closely. The man is smug, touching what doesn't belong to him. That thought gives me pause. Does he own her? Maybe I'm the one touching what isn't mine.

I laugh a little, shaking my head. She's always been mine.

Mine to break and mine to patch up.

I wish it could be simple between us, wish I wasn't so vengeful, but I am. She owes me a debt, and she's going to pay it.

I watch as she jerks her arm from his, quickly twisting back around and walking away. He tucks his hands into his pockets, watching her with his back to me. I have a feeling if I could see his face, I’d want to cut the look right off of it. Instead, I wait for her to exit the parking lot and follow behind her. She stops, kicking off her heels and picking them up in her hands, then she begins to walk again, making her way back toward the apartment. I should give her a ride, and as I'm about to do just that, the SUV brakes in front of me, that same man getting out and grabbing her, pulling her into the back of the car.

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