Page 114 of That Girl is Trouble

I can’t go back to the Garden, obviously. And after what happened on Wednesday night, and what I know about Rossi’s role in Jesse’s death, in my sister’s assault, I doubt I could see that asshole again without slashing my nails across his face.

So I’m jobless. A nineteen-year-old ex-stripper university dropout.

My laptop stares at me, the screen frozen on the last job bank site I abandoned for my Insta feed.

“Stop judging me,” I grumble as I slam the lid. I hit shuffle on my phone and nudge up the volume of Axe’s sound system. My playlist is chaotic today. Taylor Swift, a bunch of songs that would have Tex cringing because they’re mainstream trash and I don’t know music, and some of those classic seventies and eighties rock songs that Triss seems to love so much.

The sound of Axe’s front door opening has me glancing up. He’s hard faced and frowning, a deep line creasing between his brows.

“What’s got you all pissed off?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he mutters, trudging to his fridge. He rips open the door and grabs a beer, cracks the lid, and takes a long, deep swig.

“Sure looks like nothing.”

He surveys me as he drinks. And just like this morning, his gaze is dark and hungry and full of heat. And god. I do not have the energy for more sex.

I spring up from the couch and join him in the kitchen, smiling as I pluck his beer from his hand and finish it. “Club problems?”

“Something like that.”

“Tell me,” I say, stepping closer as I move my hand up his arm. I steady it on his bicep. I can feel every muscle perfectly, even through his dark sweater. My skin heats, and I consider stepping away. I’ve never been able to touch him like this—so liberally. No one’s around, but there’s always been this unspoken rule about open space. No touching.

Some of the tension in his shoulders unwinds, and he lets out a deep sigh. “Property of mine was vandalized this morning. Burned one of my warehouses to the ground.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. Lose anything?”

“Not really,” he says, shoulders getting tight again. “Place was mostly empty. But it was a message.”

“Rossi?”

“Imagine so, yeah.” His eyes flick to the bruise on my cheek, and anger tightens his jaw. “Need you to stay close for a bit. You need something from your place, I’ll send someone to get it. No leaving South Bay, and you go anywhere, I want someone with you. Understand?”

“You think he’s gonna do something to me?”

“Not sure, but the asshole’s been coming at me on and off for two years, lookin’ for a weakness that’ll throw me off my game. Now he’s found it.”

Tilting my head, I ask, “You think I’m your weakness?”

“Always have been. What you been up to today?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Job hunting.”

He chuckles at this. “I hear Cooter’s is hiring.”

“Ha!” I bark out as I smack him hard in the ribs. I don’t think I’m all that interested in continuing my career in dancing, but if I was, I certainly wouldn’t be doing it at fucking Cooter’s. South Bay’s dirty little strip club on the north end of town, the place has buck-a-beer Tuesdays, two-for-one lap dances on Thursdays, and half-price hot wing towers three nights a week. Hard pass on that. “I think I’m done with taking my clothes off for money. At least for the time being.”

Axe grins. “You sure? Bane raves about their lunch buffets.”

There’s a moment where he’s got that soft, easy, smiley kind of thing going on with his face. It doesn’t really suit him, but it’s probably in my top three favourite Axe Donovan looks. It fades quickly though, as if all his troubles are suddenly sliding back into his mind.

Pulling him against me, I loop my arms around his middle and crane my neck so I can meet his stormy gaze. “I know what will make you feel better.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, so do I,” he says as he moves a hand down to my ass and squeezes.

I snort. “Not that. My vagina needs a break.”

“I know, Kitty. That’s why I fucked your ass this morning.”

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