Page 19 of Frenemies

“You have a good girl here,” he whispered in my ear as he passed one to me. “Don’t fuck it up.”

My moment of happiness faded with the smile on Sam’s face. Her lips twisted into a moment of shock that was torn apart by an explosion. My hand went up to shelter my eyes from the blinding blast. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the laugh of a baby boy.

My baby boy.

Everything went quiet. When I blinked my eyes open, I was back in the grungy hotel room. The only thing left from the explosion was a cloud of smoke surrounding me as I sat on the floor, slumped against the wall. A silhouette was coming through the fog. Clicking echoed through the room with the figure’s long steady strides.

No, not a figure, a chick.

She was a knockout out too. If her face was anywhere near as appealing as those curvy hips, then I’d be all over her. Too bad I was so fucking high. I doubted my dick would work right now. Though, when an upturned in a snarl came into view, it did twitch a little.

Naomi stepped forward, causing her hips to wiggle against the denim fabric of a pair of form-fitting jeans, and flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder. Damn, my imagination really knew how to dress her. I especially liked the plunging neckline of her red shirt.

What I wouldn’t give to bury my face in her tempting cleavage, but that couldn’t happen. I’d have to settle for my drug-addled mind’s version of her.

“Seriously,” Naomi’s green eyes rolled as her hand twirled in the air. “This is what you decided to do with your time?”

My imagination was good. This bitch even had the same high-pitched snarl as Naomi.

I lifted my chin and smiled up at her firmly pressed lips. “You’re so pretty.”

“Of course, I am.” She pointed a clawed finger at me, “If this place gives me herpes or something, I’m blaming you.”

Unable to stop myself, I grabbed her hand and pulled her down on top of me.

“God, you smell good,” I muttered while burying my nose in her neck.

“Yeah, well, you smell like shit. When’s the last time you had a shower?”

I’d happily shower with her. An imaginary Naomi was better than no Naomi. I had to stop thinking about her. She was better off without me. Safe to live her life. As much as it killed me to stay away, I wouldn’t paint a target on her back.

“I wish you were real.” Letting out a sigh, I reached out and swept her hair behind her ear.

“I am real, you moron.”

Before I could finish the motion, her hand swung through the air, striking me across the face. Fuck, this really was good shit. That actually stung a bit.

A yawn pushed past my lips, making my eyes feel heavy.

“Whatever you say, Princess,” I muttered and slumped over, letting the blissful peace of oblivion take me.

* * *

I rolledmy head on the ground and smacked my lips together. Heroin was a good trip, but holy fuck did it make your mouth dry, and that wasn’t counting the headache pounding through my brain. Good thing I kept a healthy supply of Aspirin on hand. They were just a few inches away in my left pocket.

The only thing I got when I finally managed to slap my arm over there was nothing. Literally. My pocket was empty, and so was the other one—no wallet, knife, or pills. Even worse was the fact that my coat and cut were missing. I was lying here in nothing but my jeans and t-shirt.

That bitch fucking robbed me.

I sprang up off the ground, prepared to hunt that crack whore down, but alertness didn’t come back fast enough. My eyes popped open, and my feet went to push me off the floor.

Problem with that was, I wasn’t on the floor. I was on a tiny bed. So instead of standing up, I fell back on a cold cement floor.

What the fuck?

My brows knit as I glanced around the room, or should I say cell. There was a toilet in the corner with a sink next to it and a wall of big metal bars. Did I get arrested? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. I wasn’t exactly careful these days, but I’d like to think that’d be something I’d remember, no matter how fucked up I was.

Groaning, I pushed myself up and rubbed my throbbing temples. Whatever bohunk town I got snatched in didn’t have much in the way of cops. This cell was more rundown than the abandoned Merditon station in Miami. They even had the same mustard-colored tiles on the wall.

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