Chapter One

Vegas

Garrett

“I paid extra for this, Cherry,” I grumble when the prostitute with the clean bill of health looks over her shoulder at me, wide-eyed and a bit fucking nervous.

“But...” she begins then stops when I roll off the bed, stand up, and walk over to do another line of coke off the small square mirror on the hotel room’s dresser.

“All set,” I say as I swipe my hand under my nose, ridding myself of the excess powder under it.

“But...” she begins again.

“Butt, anal. Yeah, that. Take the cash, and I’ll get someone else,” I say, tossing it on the bed.

“But...” she says again, and this time I let the whore finish. “You’re...big.”

“Six-foot-two, two hundred pounds,” I say, grabbing my jeans. “If my cock was small, I’d look fucking ridiculous.” Pulling up my jeans, I walk to the door and open it as she jumps up and grabs her clothes. “Next!” I yell out into the hallway.

***

“Give me a fucking minute,” I grumble into the mattress as my arms get jacked up behind me.

“It’s time for you to go home,” a voice, that certainly isn’t the whore whose ass I just tore up, booms in my ear.

I start to struggle, but there is no fucking point. I did enough coke, drank enough whiskey, and fucked enough pussy and ass in the past few days that I am destroyed.

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask, still trying to fight.

“Patrick Security. Your brother sent us.”

“Fuck,” I groan as they release me.

“Get dressed.”

“I’d like to fucking shower,” I snarl at the two fucking goons.

“You got three minutes,” he says.

Fucking Gage.

***

Looking out the window of the rented SUV, I grab the bag that the two goons threw my shit in, pulling out my sunglasses and a bottle of pills. I toss back a few Vicodin, put on my shades, lean back, and let those fucking pills take me to a place where I’m numb. A place where I give no fucks about my brother who can do no wrong. A place where I don’t see disappointment in my mother’s and father’s eyes. A place where there are no secrets. A place where there is no pain. A place where the damned have a reprieve, the broken feel whole, and no one puts hands on anyone who doesn’t want it.

Numb.

Through the haze, I make my way out of the vehicle and into a private jet, where I sit down and close my eyes, enjoying the high, the numbness, knowing I am heading for hell.

I am without sleep. Can’t find it. How the hell can I sleep when I am being dragged back to face what I have been running from for six years?

Six fucking years!

I unbuckle my seatbelt and walk to the bar.

“Do you think that’s a wise idea?” one of the two goons asks.

I set the rocks glass I had grabbed down and take the bottle of whiskey instead.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, so I’m not about to tell you what I think is or isn’t wise.” I tip the bottle back in my mouth and drink it a quarter of the way down.

“Your brother asked us to find you.” One of the two copper-haired, blue-eyed, suit wearing fuckers stands up and walks over as I sit back down. He hands me a card. “I really don’t give a fuck.”

I toss the card beside me, lean back, take another swig, and then the fucker pulls it away.

“Fuck—”

“Xavier Steel is our brother-in-law,” he snarls. “You wanna pop a handful of pills, and then down a bottle of whiskey, you go right ahead, but not on our time.”

“That name supposed to make me shake in my boots?” I laugh. “I’ve known him for years. Long before he had fucking money.”

“Money doesn’t impress us, asshole. Doing the fucking job right does,” the other one speaks up.

I lean my head back and close my eyes. Fuck them. Fuck every single one of them.

***

Seven Years Ago...

On the outskirts of Asbury Park, I pull up in front of the little rundown ranch that I assume was once painted white, but the paint is now nearly gone. What’s left of it is chipping and peeling off the shithole.

I turn off the engine of my Hellcat. Fucking thing sticks out like a sore thumb in this area of town. Should have taken Razor’s beater for a trip like this, but he was fucked up when he gave me the name and location of his dealer. I certainly wasn’t going to give him the keys to my ride or stick around for him to realize the fact that he fucked up. I could now go right to the source to score the Blueys or Sticks I needed to turn off the noise in my head.

Mom caught on to the fact that her little stash of Xanax she would pop when she flew was dwindling at a rapid speed. Didn’t ask my older brother Gage if it was him, but she sure as fuck asked my younger brother Gray and me. I wasn’t going to let him take the shit for me, so I owned it. Now she locks them up.

You know what a seventeen-year-old with a big fucking wallet and no responsibility does with his disposable income and a mom who decides to lock up her pills? Not buy fucking baseball cards. But that’s what they think. Or maybe it’s what they want to believe. Either way, I need the shit, so I’m going to fucking get it.

The front windows are boarded up, there is no street lights or light illuminating from the windows, and some thugs a few houses down are hanging out on their porches, pointing at me.

A bit of nervousness washes over me, but the thought of another night getting fucked up on coke that is readily available in my town, just to stay awake, shakes that feeling off really quick-like.

I walk up the steps, keeping the guys a few houses down in my peripheral, and my foot goes through the top one. Immediate pain, and then the feeling of warm liquid running down my leg causes me to curse. “Fuck.”

I hear the sound of someone sniffing as I pull my leg out of the damn hole and look toward the source of the sound.

I see someone sitting against the house in the dark corner, knees pulled up to their chest, arms wrapped around them, and shoulders hunched forward. A car passes by, casting a light on them.

It’s a girl with two long pigtail braids, hair sticking out of them.

When another car passes, she stands and walks closer to me.

She’s not a girl. Well, not a young girl, anyway. She has on denim overall shorts with a tank top underneath. She’s rail thin, but has a nice rack.

“You looking for Deeds, you’re two blocks away.” She points left.

Her voice is rough, deeper than I expected. Her tone isn’t warm or inviting, not like her look. Of course it’s not. This is a fucking drug house.

“Deeds?” I ask, trying to remember if that’s the name Razor spilled.

“He buys the cars. No one here’s got that kind of bank.” She shrugs then points down. “You’re bleeding through your jeans.”

As I look down, she squats and grabs the cuff of them, pulling them up. Then she looks up at me.

“Got a lighter?”

Fuck, she’s kind of beautiful in a totally unbeautiful way. Her hair makes no sense, her clothes are ridiculous, her shoes, well, I’ve seen my mom throw out flip flops that were a fuck of a lot less worn. A long strand of black waves hangs down the front of her face, and my hands itch to push it back, but I can’t. I can’t fucking touch her.

“Lighter?” she asks again, bringing me back to the here and now.

I reach into my pocket, pull out the black Zippo, and hand it to her. She takes it and lights it.

“Dang, that’s pretty—”

“Fuck,” I snap when she touches it.

“—bad.” She looks up at me, and I can tell she’s trying not to smirk.

“And that’s fucking funny to you?” I ask, trying not to do the same damn thing, but I can’t help smiling.

Her eyes are the lightest shade of brown I have ever seen, freckles bridge her nose, and from what I can see, her tits are nice. Better than nice. Her tits are perfect. Looking over her head, I see the roundest little ass I have ever seen. I’m damn sure I could bounce a quarter off that thing.

Shaking her head, she pulls a bandana out of her pocket and holds it against my wound.

“Thanks,” I say as she ties it in the back.

“Should stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down.” She stands, hands me the lighter, and steps back.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s it matter?” She shrugs then turns her back to me.

Suddenly, I’m afraid I will never see her again.

I grab her elbow, stopping her.

She looks back with fear in her eyes. No, terror. I recognize that look. I wore it once before...many years ago.

Needing to keep her here, not wanting her to go inside because what if...What if something happens to her?

“Just wanted to know what my little nurse’s name was,” I say, forcing a smile.

She cocks her head to the side, her eyes searching, seeking, scrutinizing mine.

“Juliana. My name’s Juliana.”

“Juliana, I’m kind of hungry. You feel like going to get something to eat?” What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck!

“You gonna drop that car off at Deeds?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips.

“No.” I shake my head slowly back and forth. “It’s my car.”

Her eyes grow bigger, and she grins. “No way.”

“Yes way.” I nod.

Her smile turns into a straight line. “I’m not a hooker. I’m not gonna—”

“Jesus, I just wanted to thank you.”

“I’m not going to give you a blowjob. I’m not—”

I throw my hands in the air and turn. “Can’t do a fucking nice thing for anyone anymore.”

I start to walk down the steps, avoiding the broken ones.

“Wait!”

I turn and look back at her.

“Tell me why I should trust you.”

“I’m not from here, Juliana. I’m not gonna try to hurt you. I never would. But I’m not begging you to go. I’m out.” I turn and walk down the last step, heading toward my car.

Once inside, I start it up, when there’s a loud tap on my window. It’s her.

I crack it just a few inches, because I’m fucking pissed at her for assuming I was like any of these shitbags.

“McDonalds. I want McDonalds.”

“I want Taco Bell,” I retort, narrowing my eyes at her the same she is me.

“I want both,” she says, trying to play it off as a challenge, but there is eagerness and honesty in her eyes that can’t be mistaken for anything else. She’s hungry.

I hit the door unlock button. “Get in.”

Once inside, she runs her hands over the dash. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I say as I drop it into gear.

“I wanna drive,” she says, and I look at her. “I’m serious.”

I shake my head, turn away from her, and hit the gas, peeling out. “That ain’t happening.”

When she laughs, it’s a beautiful sound.

I look at her out of the corner of my eye. “Where to first?”

She shakes her head then shrugs. “I don’t care. Just get me out of here.”

At that moment, I wanted to do nothing but take her away from whatever she was hiding from.

***

She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the restroom inside of the golden arches. I’m not sure what to make of it, and when I hesitate, she looks back. Our eyes meet, light brown to dark, and then she laughs again.

Christ, that does something to me. The whole ride here she fucked with the radio, smiled, laughed. Hell, she even sang. Complete opposite of the girl who was cowering in the corner. I’m not sure if she’s insane or just relieved to get out of that shithole.

“We need to clean it up.” She smiles then turns away, still pulling me behind her.

Once inside the bathroom, she tells me to pull up my pant leg. I do.

“Can you pull it higher?” she asks. “Then, like, put your foot on the sink so I can clean it.”

“Can’t,” I tell her.

“Then you gotta pull them down. I won’t look. I promise.”

My first thought is sexual, always sexual, but then I wonder what fucking boxers I have on.

“Any day now,” she says with her eyes cast up at the ceiling.

Fuck it. I drop them.

“All set, Nurse...What’s your name again?”

She looks down and smirks. She fucking smirks.

Embarrassed, I look to see what the hell is so funny.

I shake my head when I realize I have on the damn horse print boxers Gray gave me as a gag gift.

“I’m Nurse Juliana, and you are, cowboy?” She smirks.

“Garrett. My name’s Garrett Falcon.”