Page 77 of Tainted

“For now. Let me holla at Nolan. Then we can dip.”

“Okay.”

Whenever shit hit the fan, I was usually the first call but not tonight. Nolan was under strict orders to call Kross first because something told me I’d be busy earning my way out of the dog house. Before we left, Rajah delivered a final warning to take care of her baby, as if I needed that reminder.

The ride to my crib was quiet. It wasn’t a comfortable silence between two people in the same space. It was the opposite, clawing at my chest from the inside.

“I need a favor,” I stated, strumming my fingers against her exposed thigh while she shifted toward me, “Retwist me.”

Zara rubbed her nails against my scalp before looking down at her fingers. “You need a wash. Your scalp is dirty.”

“So you got me?”

“Oh, that’s why you wanted me to come over. So you could get some free labor out of me?”

“Not the only reason.” I let the corner of my mouth curl into a playful grin, “Sit me between your legs and handle it.”

“You’re such a pervert.”

“That’s all you. I’m just trying to get my hair done.”

She shook her head and made herself comfortable in the passenger seat. We stopped at the store to get the supplies. I followed Zara like a puppy up and down the aisle, picking up products, reading the labels, and returning them if she wasn’t satisfied. It was one of the things I enjoyed most. Zara had standards and never wavered, depending on who stood on the other side.

Finally satisfied, we arrived at the crib, and she hopped in the shower. As bad as I wanted to join her, I decided to wait until after my appointment between her thighs. I strolled into my office to grab something, and it wasn’t long before Zara and her two pigtails wandered inside.

“Why is this one special?” she asked, her voice intrigued with the model car sitting on the bookshelf.

Zara's fingers traced the sleek, black lines accented with metallic silver, giving the design a futuristic aesthetic. Inside, the soft black leather seats had detailed stitching on the headrest, showcasing high-quality craftsmanship.

“You’re never beating those nosey allegations.”

“You could’ve let me go home.”

“No, I couldn’t, and how do you figure it’s special?” I asked, searching for a loophole to change the subject.

“All your other car stuff is in the garage, and then there’sher, so it must mean something,” Zara explained.

“She,” I said, snatching it from her hands more aggressively than I intended, "is nothing you need to worry about.”

Her brow furrowed, and she snatched it back, scratching my wrist with her nails. “It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like a dream. Did you make this?”

It was likely the small emblem—a silver "K" surrounded by wings on the hood that gave it away.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I eased on the couch. "Yeah, a long time ago.”

She stepped closer, eyes softening with genuine interest. "You’ve always loved cars?”

I hesitated. The idea of someone seeing this side of me felt too intimate, too exposed. But there was something about how Zara looked at me.

“Yeah, something my grandfather passed down to my father than me.”

“What about Kross?”

“Cars aren’t his shit,” I chuckled because he couldn’t stay off a field or court long enough to play with anything else. If there was a ball around, he would find it, but that was never me.

“You put all this time and effort into it.” She finally released the car into my hands, but her eyes never left mine. "Tell me about it.”

I cracked my knuckles, watching Zara lower next to me. Strumming her leg, my defiance melted, being this close to her.

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