Page 4 of We The Depraved
Carla is the only woman I ever fucked around with. I prefer dick, pussy isn’t my thing really but I still have a sweet spot for her. She was innocent and fun and that asshole whose skull I just sank a bullet into, took advantage.
“Carla, baby,” I tilt her chin up to look at me. I’m just a little taller than her. “Come home with me for now. We need to get you out of Houston.”
“The Rows,” she shakes her head.
I nod.
If the Crips find out the she had anything to do with Anthony getting shot and killed, she’s dead next. Her and the baby, little Tania, are going get gunned down. Me they’ll probably torture and then kill.
Gio comes out and we lock the apartment up tight. Quietly, he takes Carla’s key from her and we go out the back so that we won’t be seen.
A rainbow is stretching itself across the sky as we get into my car. For just a moment, I almost want to stand and enjoy it. Instead, I focus on the task at hand. I want Carla and Tania safe. They deserve it.
CHAPTER2
Sage
Afew weeks has passed since I last kissed Carla. It was most certainly a goodbye kiss. I never plan to set eyes on the woman ever again. She has ten thousand dollars of my money to start over with and she’s bound for somewhere unknown. I don’t want to know. She asked if I could come with her, start over, and be a family.
All I could offer her was a smile and the money. Like I said before, she’s the only woman I ever fucked. I don’t see myself with a woman and raising a kid. We had our fun and that was it. Liquor and being horny will have you dry fucking a carpet, if your horny enough.
For some reason, I can’t sleep.
Something wakes me.
I roll over to see if the red lights on the alarm clock will tell me if there’s enough time to go back to sleep.
Blinking rapidly, my eyes still feel blurry until the time comes into view. The old fashion alarm clock reads three o’clock. With a sigh, I go to roll back over but I feel it. Someone is in my house, in my room. A scent enters my nose.
Fuck.
My heart feels like its about to come out of my chest. I can hear it in my ears beating like a small baby banging on pots and pans.
Sitting up, I feel for the gun under my pillow, just in time to see the cherry on the end of a cigar light up in the corner of my bedroom.
“Don’t bother,” a voice just an octave shy of menacing says.
I’m scared shitless.
“I don’t keep money,” I say.
He laughs soft and deep.
“I don’t want your fucking money,” he laughs again.
My body is ready to fly off the bed, my fingers are still searching for the gun.
“You won’t find what you’re looking for,” he says, the cherry on the end glowing a deeper orange.
This man, this intruder’s deep voice is smooth like the bourbon we keep on the top shelf at The Crescent. A shudder goes through me. Anxiety is riding all over my body, I can’t find the fucking gun I keep under my pillow. He has it. I know he does and now I’m at his mercy.
“What do you want?” My voice cracks just a little bit.
He chuckles again. “That.”
I’m confused, a feeling I don’t like. “That what?”
“I want your fucking fear, Sage Porter. And I’ll have it.”
