Page 35 of Break Me
Nine
Nearly a week passes,and on Friday night, I’m sitting in the back of a club having a drink when I should be focusing. More alert. Looking for Rolland.
No one knows where he is, not after we learned he took a flight here.
I increased security at Riley’s condo, with Caden’s knowledge. He’s on edge, which means they’re fighting more than usual, but he’s terrified his father will hurt her again. I can understand his nerves. I have the same ones.
But they manifest differently.
Things are going well in Toronto, and I’ve refused to take on any more hits until I get Rolland taken care of, which pisses Felix off because we don’t get paid as much on dealing, but he’ll have to get over himself.
I never left North Carolina. I intended to, to take care of shit back home, but I know Felix has it under control, angry or not.
I never replied to Ava’s text either. And she just sent another one, with a shitload of question marks, which makes me think she’s probably drunk. Some strange part of me, that part that was born when Bianca got hurt, wants to call her and demand to know where she is. I want to go to her, not to interfere in her fun, but to watch.
To look out for her.
But I know where that gets me.
Fucking nowhere.
I’m only doing it for Riley because we aren’t together. She’s become one of my best friends in a short amount of time, and yeah, we fucked, but it’s different. She’s Caden’s. I can keep her at a distance that way.
The waitress comes over to with another rum and Diet, and I nod my thanks. She glances down at the tattoos on my arm, my black watch, and then her eyes drag over me, my dark blue shirt, up my throat, my mouth, to my eyes. I feel like she’s undressing me right here.
She’s wearing tight white shorts and a black t-shirt that’s so low it doesn’t really seem sanitary but she’s fine, with long red hair and blue eyes.
“What’s your name?” she asks me, straight to the point. That Southern accent, the same one Ava has, does something to my dick.
I curl my fingers around the drink she brought and take a sip before I answer her, my gaze on hers.
“Benji,” I answer her. “Yours?”
She flashes me a smile, her teeth white and straight. “Carly,” she answers. “I get off soon.” She glances behind her, to the dance floor. I’m as far from it as I can get, so it’s relatively easy to hear her over the music. “Wanna join me when I’m done?”
This time, I let my eyes roam over her tight body; she’s got small tits but she’s not wearing a bra and they’re perky as hell, her legs long and tan.
She’s no Ava, but she’d do tonight.
I take another drink. “Sure,” I answer her with a grin. I don’t dance, but I’ll persuade her to do something else.
I didn’t think getting laid in the south would be so easy when I didn’t know anyone, but between her and Ava, well…it is.
But as Carly walks away, her hips swaying, I hear my phone vibrate again and see Ava has text me. Again.
You’re going to fuck the waitress?
My heart slams in my chest and I stand to my feet, looking around the dim club. How the hell would she see me before I saw her? That is not how this fucking works.
I finish off my drink and set it down, tuck my phone in my back pocket, still craning my neck like a dumbass, looking for a glimpse of Ava’s long blonde hair. Who is she here with? Riley? Caden?
Nah, he would have told me. He said they were staying in. Which is code for he was going to fuck her brains out and I’d probably be able to hear it from across the hall.
I hear someone cough from beside me and I turn, tearing my eyes reluctantly away from the dance floor.
Ava’s got a smirk on her face, hand on her hip. She’s wearing another blue dress, but this one barely hits mid-thigh. She’s got black booties and a few silver bracelets on her wrist that probably cost more than most people’s entire outfit here.
“Boo,” she teases.
