Page 17 of Compelled Obedience

I chuckled. “I’m certain he or she was a badass.”

“He, and Chuckie was killed a week before graduation. He almost made it out of there. He’d gotten a scholarship for his music.”

The words hit me hard. “I’m sorry, Candy. I had no idea.”

Her hand was shaking as she took another sip of wine. “You wouldn’t so don’t be. Chuckie was targeted by a gang because he refused to join. I was so proud of him for almost climbing out of the muck, even though my uncle was a shithead and hassled him about his choices.”

“Still. I’m sorry, honey.”

“I know you are. You need to take this girl up on her offer. You need to see what they are doing at the school. If the program is anything like when Chuckie was enrolled, it’s a special place.”

I wondered why a woman with Kerri’s obvious talent was teaching at a high school. “I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, no. Promise me you’ll do it.” She pressed her painted fingernail against my chest. “Or else.”

“Fine, I promise.”

“Then you can spank her all you want.”

It was impossible not to grin. “I plan on it.”

“Just trust me on this. If you do go see her, make certain one of the first things you do is tell her the truth about us. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

My best friend was right. Kerri Bettington had no idea she’d awakened a true beast. I wanted the girl and as Candace had reminded me, I took what I wanted.

Kerri was no exception.

* * *

Kerri

A bitch.

I wasn’t usually such a bitch, or so I hoped. I was overwrought, overworked, over life. Not necessarily in that order. However, the man had pushed all my buttons more than once. Even worse, he’d done so on purpose.

My thoughts were continuously pulled back to Grant and the incredible kiss. I pressed my hand against my lips as I eased from my car, scanning the street for any sign of trouble before closing my door.

I was on edge, angry and insulted by Grant’s intimate actions, angry that I’d lost my temper and slapped him. Well, only so much. The man deserved to be taught a lesson.

Fortunately for the asshole perpetrator from the night before, there wasn’t a repeat performance, or I’d take out all my aggressions on him without hesitation. Maybe because I was dressed like a nun instead of a showgirl, that meant I wasn’t interesting enough. Ha. That hadn’t stopped Mr. Grant-asshole-of-the-year-Wilde from accosting me.

Oh, the man was the truest definition of the word insufferable.

I climbed the steps to my apartment, still tingling from the interaction with the gorgeous hunk. I’d made a fool of myself, but it felt good to spout off to someone instead of being forced to hold in my anger.

I certainly couldn’t do it at home. It would upset Casey too much, setting him off into one of his longer tantrums. As I walked inside, I was shocked how quiet everything was, almost fearful there was something terribly wrong.

I dropped my purse and keys on the kitchen table, tossing the pile of mail from the box. The kitchen light was already on, the chocolate milk sitting out on the counter. Anger tore through me and I wanted to scream to anyone who would hear me that money didn’t grow on trees. I yanked the carton into my hand, thankful it still felt cold. Maybe Rebecca had used a glass as incentive to go to sleep.

The pile of bills drew my attention. I rifled through them, noticing one of them was a more formal piece of communication from my landlord. Before I did anything, I tore it open, my entire body shaking from anger. Goddamn the asshole. Rent was going up four hundred dollars a month at the end of my lease, which was two months from now. Four hundred might as well be four thousand. I might be able to swing it for a couple of months, but that was only if I kept my nighttime gig.

Calm down. Just calm down.

At least I was getting a nice check for subbing for another girl for the charity event. I’d need to put that aside. I wasn’t certain things could get any worse.

Rebecca walked into the kitchen, a pensive look on her face.

“How’s Casey?”

---