Page 11 of Worth

Her words sink in as I pull into the Monster Burger parking lot and I slam on the brakes so hard that she flies into the dashboard, catching herself before she can smash her head against the windshield. Her bloody cleavage and dress draw my attention again. I study it for a moment—the dress, not her tits. Though I’m not going to lie and say they don’t snag my attention for a split second. Okay—a full second.

“What the hell, psycho?” she shouts, aiming a fist at me.

I catch it easily and use it to yank her across the car so we’re nose-to-nose. “Delivered? Since when do Skins have their meals delivered?”

Kitten swallows hard and tries to pull away. I wish Zander had come with me today. I’m not good at connecting the dots, but it’s obvious something more interesting than your everyday Skinnapping is going on here. But Zander? He’s the genius mastermind behind all this shit.

Then I remember something. A story—about a girl that Damien had purchased for big bucks a few years ago. A pretty little teenager that no one had seen in public since the day she’d been wrestled into his car.

“Aw, shit,” I groan, releasing her. “You’re the Vetella brat he bought for a mint.”

This time when she punches me, she connects with my jaw. “I am not a Vetella,” she hisses. “I’ll kill you if you ever say that again.”

I work my jaw back and forth, and watch her simmer in her anger. “Okay,” I reply, shrugging. “Still want a burger?”

Kitten gapes at me. “You are the strangest person I’ve ever met,” she mutters, “and that’s saying something.”

I grin. “You have no idea.”

She doesn’t say another word as I pull into the drive thru and order both of us meals. She says nothing when we get to the window, but her nostrils flare and she licks her lips as she scents the nearly disgusting smell of grease and meat. However, when I pull out the same pistol I whacked her over the head with, she squeaks, backing against the passenger door.

The Monster Burger employee takes one look at me and my pistol, and hands over the food and drinks just as quiet as Kitten was a second ago. I toss the bags to Kitten and wink at the girl standing at the window. I smirk when a blush rises in her cheeks and gun Redd’s engine. The girl giggles, wiggling her fingers in a wave right before I release the brake, peeling out of the drive thru.

I turn to see why Kitten is so quiet, chuckling when I find her with a half-eaten burger in one hand and an onion ring in the other. She groans as she pops the onion ring into her mouth, washing it all down with a Coke.

“Watch the road, psycho,” she mumbles around her food, reminding me I’m driving.

“Burger me,” I order, holding out my hand. My wrapped sandwich lands in my hand with an aggressive amount of force, and I pout at her. “You are a shitty shotgun rider. You’re supposed to unwrap it for me.”

She rolls her eyes, setting her own burger down in her lap and snatching mine back. She haphazardly unwraps it and sticks it back in my hand, diving into hers again as soon as my fingers curl around it.

“Good Kitten,” I praise.

That damn deadly look is back in her eyes over my approval. I promise myself that I’ll do whatever I can to make her give me that look more often. Clicking on the radio, I turn it up so the music is absolutely blaring, the upgraded stereo system in Redd outfitted to play a mix of music from my cell—in this case, “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” by Brooks & Dunn.

I finish my burger, all the while serenading my passenger with perfect vocals. Or is it shitty ones? I can’t remember what Zander told me the last time I sang something for him. I crumple up my wrapper and hold it out for Kitten to take.

When she doesn’t, I scowl her way, but then stop. My little Kitten has curled up in her seat and fallen fast asleep. Does that rhyme? It fucking does. Or does it? Who the fuck cares? Not me.

...Maybe it doesn’t rhyme.

As I think of words to rhyme with seat and asleep, I keep heading for the safe house. Once I’m there, I know Zander will make me put Kitten into service. I almost pout at that. I don’t want to. I want to keep her. But –

My little Kitten has curled up in a heap and fallen fast asleep.There.Thatrhymes for sure. I hum along with the music, satisfied with myself.

Chapter 4

I huff a complaint as something wet touches my cheek, waking me up, but I don’t open my eyes. My fingers automatically flex, testing out how numb they are, but they aren’t. At all.

It takes me a minute of laying utterly still to remember where I fell asleep and the events that preceded that. Just as I go to open my eyes, something wet touches my face again. My eyes fly open in time to watch my kidnapper’s tongue withdraw back into his mouth, an amused smirk on his face.

“Wakey, wakey, Kitten,” he sings.

“Ugh!” I screech, wiping at the saliva on my cheek from his tongue. I look down at my hand and see that it’s smeared with dark blood and spit. “What the hell?”

“You had tears running down your face,” he says casually. “I was cleaning them up.”

I ignore the implication that I was crying in my sleep. “With your tongue?” I exclaim.

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