Page 5 of Bitter Desire
“Good girl.” He smoothed a hand over my hair and dropped a kiss to my forehead. “Everything is going to be okay. You know that, right?”
I was quiet, but then I opened my eyes and looked up at him with a smile. Because I did know it was going to be okay, if Law promised it. “Yes.”
Chapter Two
LAW
I didn’t like it when people thought they could fuck with what was mine. Thought that I would let it slide when there was a deal and they figured they were clever enough to get away with some kind of fine print bullshit. They knew I didn’t go to a fancy school, or they saw the tattoos on my hands and figured, ‘Hey, I can fuck with this guy.’
They were wrong.
No one got one over on me. It hadn’t happened when I was beating assholes within an inch of their life on the streets for cash, or when I’d been listening to someone try and talk their way out of the debt I was there to collect for the mafiosa that had me on his dime. And it didn’t happen now. Didn’t care if it was in a boardroom or contract addendums.
You didn’t fuck with me. And that meant you didn’t fuck with my people either.
Honey was definitely my people. She wasmy girl.
Mine.
And right now, my girl was scared of some limp dick texting her. Threatening her with bullshit words sent anonymously. I wasn’t having that shit. Honey deserved to be happy, safe, and well fucked. I was going to handle this.
‘You owe me and I’m going to take everything from you’
Whoever was sending these texts to Honey had known her before me, which wasn’t hard, but they knew her enough to lay a claim to what she had. What she was. I’d seen the inside of her apartment. It was well kept and clean, but sparse. Whatever they were talking about it wasn’t cash. It was something else.
The only thing my girl had that was priceless was pretty fucking simple.
It was her.
“Fuckers,” I took a deep drag of the cigarette I’d lit and blew out. I was standing on my balcony, Honey asleep inside. I’d made her dinner, fucked her, and put her to bed. She was happy. Just the way I liked her. I’d left her and came outside to think. The balcony ran the length of my penthouse, the view from it was second to none, at least that was what the real estate agent had gone on and on about. I hadn’t really cared then, so long as it was quiet. Honey had lost her shit when she’d seen the view, though, so now I noticed it.
The city was lit up like a Christmas tree, the lights of buildings, stop lights and cars twinkling serenely below without a hint of the chaos I knew belonged to all of it. New York City was nothing but chaos, the streets and the people in it wild, fast, vibrant. All of it unique to the city that had made me. The city that had shaped me into the man that I was. A man too damaged to function in polite society. I couldn’t blend in even if I’d tried, so I hadn’t. I’d chosen to remain apart, nothing and no one making me want the kind of life that normal people made for themselves.
I turned, glancing through the window and into my bedroom, Honey’s body a tempting shape that softened the austere lines of my room. The bed was too large for her, the California King mattress, seemingly endless with her at the center of it. Her dark hair spilled out against the pillow, the moonlight making it shine, making me remember what it felt like twisted in my fist. How the vanilla and apple smell of her hair clung to my fingers after I touched her—made me remember how sweet she was. I knew Honey was strong, that the steel in her had been forged by careless hands and brutal words.
But even so she was sweet, soft. She was my beautiful girl. And she was scared.
I took another deep drag of the cigarette, the acrid taste of it chasing away all thoughts of my sweet Honey. My eyes left Honey, locking onto my reflection in the window. The red glow of my cigarette lighting me up. The man staring back at me looked pissed. I lowered my cigarette and turned back towards the city. The fucker who had messaged Honey was out there somewhere in the streets I had run. I took out my phone and began to scroll through the contacts, knowing I had more than enough information to find the person who thought they could threaten what was mine.
I hit a contact and frowned. I shouldn't have to do this, but at least the person on the other end of the line owed me. It was already ringing by the time I had the phone to my ear.
“Well, well, well, look who it is,” a voice greeted me a second later. I heard the tinkling of ice in a glass on the other end and knew she was drinking. Probably a Long Island. The woman always had a penchant for sweet and terrible, probably because she was sweet and terrible.
I kept my eyes on the city at my feet. “Charlaine Bellefluer.”
“I was wonderin’ when you’d come crawling back to me.”
“A call isn’t crawling,” I said, walking towards the balcony edge. I leaned forward, bracing my elbows against the railing, eyes still trained on the streets. My penthouse was secure, the state of the art alarm system and round the clock staffed surveillance made sure of it. Any threats wouldn’t come from behind me, but from down there. The city wasn’t safe. It had gotten it’s hooks into Honey somehow, and I was going to snap those fucking hooks with my bare hands. Charlaine Bellefleur was my tool to get started.
“And besides, you owe me. Did you forget about Jersey?”
I heard her sigh. “Fuck Jersey.”
I hummed. “Yeah, that’s the general consensus. I’ve got a job for you.”
“This a payin’ job or a favor cashed in job?” The tinkling of the glass sounded again, signaling the was taking a long pull from her cocktail.
“Favor. I need this done faster than money can buy.”
