Page 27 of Tank
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Nadya
He did it again.
He fucking did it again.
Closing time and his big ass was hunched over the bar, passed out. I wasn’t sure if I was more irritated or elated. I couldn’t deny that I had let him get too close. I let him touch me, for crying out loud. The softness that he handled my cuts blew me away. It was unexpected to say the least. And I had no idea what the fuck to even do with that.
What I did know, was that I was pissed about the fact that I’d given him my name, and with very little thought. True, it wasn’t my full name but that was only because the first part got stuck in my throat as I forced it out. Like my brain knew it wasn’t a good idea to give it away. It was almost like I wanted him to know something but at the same time wanted to keep my secrets.
There was no recognition in his eyes. He had no idea who I was or what I did. That only led to more questions popping up in my head. Because when I was sent on a job, my targets may have been surprised, but almost always, they expected it. They knew the end was coming and they knew who they’d done wrong. This guy, Noah, was clueless. It made my stupid brain spin even more than it had been the days since I’d last seen him in person.
The whole week I watched him. The same cycle day after day. There were sometimes, hints even, that he was thinking about changing things up. But in the end, he always drowned himself away.
When he opened his mouth and gave me his brutal honesty, the dark cloud that held his soul captive, I just about shit myself. Outside I was cool as could be, but inside I was shaken to the core. I didn’t know more than that he had lost his son. And from the way it was tearing him up, his son was his world. The reason for which he had breathed life. With that taken away, he felt like he had nothing, no reason to keep his heart beating.
It was an emotion that I didn’t understand. Not because I was so black on the inside, but simply because I had never felt anything like that. I didn’t have anyone that I held that close to me. I didn’t have something that made me get up in the morning. Sure, I loved my girl Eyes, and the man that had once took me under his wing and taught me everything I knew. But while I was grateful for them, I didn’t tie them to my blood or my soul. I didn’t let them have a place on a shelf so deep inside of me that I might feel empty if they weren’t there.
Shitty of me?
Maybe.
But I had learned to keep moving in life. That if you stayed still too long, you would begin to see all the ugly around you. And when your eyes were open to that you couldn’t ever undo it.
I was raised a traveler, a roamer, moving from one job to the next, never having a say so in it. I was brought up learning tricks and ways to read people. Con and move on. The culture around me the same as generations before me, because they were hesitant towards change. And when some wanted to find a new path, groups divided. That sometimes led to families being torn apart.
My father always chose the path he thought was the easiest. The one that he was sure would lead to a better life. He was set in his was set in his ways, believing that the old ways were the right ones.
My father believed that women had very little value. Another thing that the group I’d been born into was divided on. Some of them taking the side that women were there for one thing only, and I grew up feeling that weight. Like I was a woman and for that reason, I was needed but never wanted. On the road, held up in a tiny RV with my mom and dad I was shown how to cook and clean between so-called jobs. A disappointment out of the womb because I had a slit between my legs, even though I had no choice in the matter. And my father let me know it every chance he got. He was practically counting down the days until he could marry me off.
That never happened, though. Because three months shy of sixteen, the age he would have gotten his wish, I ran. However, it might not be for all the reasons you might think.
Snapping myself back into reality, I looked over at Noah. His light snores filled the air.
Once again, I had the guys drag him upstairs when I was done closing down the bar. After I made sure he was settled and down for the count, I took my place in my chair.
I may have been slightly irritated. I liked my space. My alone time. I also liked to spend that alone time being as comfortable as I could. Meaning, as soon as I walked into my door, I freed my boobs from their horrible underwire confinement, trading it out for a bra that didn’t make me feel like those bad boys were up to my neck. My shoes usually went next, followed by my pants. There was something freeing about walking around in a shirt and boy shorts. Or cheekies. Or even a thong when I needed to feel sexy. It was my winding down ritual. One that I couldn’t do at the moment. Damn that massive beast of a man.
Then I looked over at him and I just couldn’t hate him. I couldn’t be mad at him. With his peaceful face covered ninety percent in hair. His thick lashes that rested along his cheeks as he slept. His beautiful steel eyes that I could see in my mind, even though his lids were closed. His massive arms and legs spread out in all directions. I took in his fucking hulking form. He was like a damn thick tree. A strong and solid, dare I say, hunk of a man.
What the hell is wrong with me?
With that, my mind wouldn’t stop wondering as my eyes roamed all over him. I was suddenly hot, the air around me felt suffocating every time I tried to take in a breath. My chest rose and fell a little faster.
My eyes slowly took in the size of his shoes.Is that even a normal size?Then up his legs, that even though he was wearing jeans I could tell were huge. Not in an over bulky way like he’d spent his life in the gym. It was like he was made to be strong. Good genes, I guessed. And because I couldn’t stop the crazy train, I looked up even further, pausing at the noticeable bulge between his legs. Fuck me. He wasn’t even hard and it filled up the space that was supposedly made for it and then some. I would have bet that he could fucking rip that zipper completely with his hard-on.
No. No. This was all wrong. He was a sleeping, hot mess and I most definitely didn’t need to think about what he would look like naked. I sure as fuck didn’t need to think how he would feel inside of me, plowing into me with all of his power.
I tried to remember the last time I’d had sex. Getting laid wasn’t high on my to-do list, but it was still a need.
Six months?
Ten?
Oh, no. It was that hipster blonde down in Albuquerque. Eighteen. Fucking. Months. Ago.Shit!That had to be it. I was going to blame it all on the fact that it had been a year and a half since I’d had an undusting, if you would. I would bet I had damn cobwebs growing up in there.
I needed a distraction. I needed Lucy. But then I remembered that she had something going on and that was the reason I hadn’t talked to her much the past week. I got a few texts checking on me, but that was pretty much it. A small part of me hoped everything was alright. I knew there was nothing I could do. For one, I wasn’t anywhere near where she was. And two, I didn’t get that computer shit. She told me that she had it handled, so all I could do was let it go.
