Sadie
I wasn’t sure what time it was when I fell asleep the night before—any of the times I had fallen asleep—but by the time I woke up, it was two in the afternoon. I had the kind of headache that I usually associated with hangovers, but milder, and the soreness between my hips wasn’t as bad as it had been the night before. I laid in bed for a little while longer, thinking about how incredibly bizarre it was that I’d jumped into the plot to help my brother so willingly. It didn’t feel—exactly—like I was doing it just because I loved him and wanted to keep him safe. It felt almost like I’d been looking for an excuse to be a little bad myself.
I got out of bed and Chris was up too. “Why don’t I make us some breakfast?” I looked at my brother, almost shocked at his willingness.
“You?” He rolled his eyes.
“You’re saving my ass,” he pointed out. “Least I can do is whip up some bacon and eggs.” I looked at my brother doubtfully. “Hey—I am a grown man who lives on his own. I can make breakfast.”
“Okay, if you insist,” I said. I watched my brother go into the kitchen and start moving around. I made us some coffee while he scrambled up eggs and cooked some bacon. I was actually kind of surprised that he managed it without burning.
“I eat when you’re not around, you know,” Chris told me.
“Not from what I’ve seen,” I countered.
I ate and had some coffee and headed back to my room. I still felt a bit weird about Chris, and about his stupidity in getting involved with Micah Rintley, and about the situation I’d gotten myself into. I felt even weirder about the fact that I’d actually agreed to have sex with Micah to get rid of a thousand dollars of my brother’s debt.
“I’m just going to take a shower,” I called out to my brother—as much because I wanted to be alone for a little while longer as because I remembered, very clearly, how much I’d wanted to take a shower the night before and had just been too exhausted.
I stripped off my nightgown and turned on the water. I felt a little bit better about the whole thing, but I still couldn’t quite believe what had happened to me. I thought about the night before while I waited for the water to heat up. Jesus Christ. I could almost laugh at the idea of me beating on someone’s door and then pointing a gun at them; but at the same time, the fact that I’d actually done it gave me a chill. I remembered the look on Chester’s face when I’d pointed the gun at him, and the fact that I’d enjoyed his fear made me wonder what kind of person I really was.
And then, too; as I scrubbed at my hair, lathering the shampoo in it, I couldn’t help but think about Micah himself. I’d always managed to keep my distance from the kinds of circles that my brother operated in. Even two days before, if someone told me that I would find myself walking into the office of a local mafia boss and offering to work for him, I would have told them that they were completely insane. I shook my head, tilting it back under the showerhead. Images from my dreams the night before flitted through my mind, and I could feel myself starting to get turned on again, almost in spite of myself.
How in the world could I have agreed to that? It seemed just as insane as everything else I’d done the previous night, if in a different way. I had never—in my entire life—even put out on the first date, much less within less than an hour of meeting someone. And yet, I couldn’t deny that even though Micah had been brutal, a very big part of me had liked it. That’s never going to be an option again, so you might as well enjoy the dreams, I thought wryly.
Micah was exactly the kind of guy I’d always avoided: dangerous, unpredictable, violent. Just look at how he’d dominated me the night before; look at how he’d just straight-up used me, as if my body was something that belonged to him.
Before I knew it, my hands had begun to stray, moving away from my hair and down over my body. My nipples still felt a little bit sore from Micah’s rough handling, and in my mind I heard his voice, telling me he’d love to watch my tits bounce while I rode his cock. I shuddered; there was nothing about anything he’d said to me the night before that I should have liked, but it had turned me on—I couldn’t lie to myself about that. Maybe it was just because I was so anxious, so excited, so worried—like when you go to a horror movie with a guy on a date. But it didn’t feel like that.
My hand slipped down between my legs and I was stroking myself before I even really knew what I was doing. I was still sore—I bit my bottom lip, remembering how huge Micah had felt. The dream-version of Micah flashed through my mind. There’s no way he’s that big, I thought, exploring my slippery folds, feeling the roughened flesh there. But he was definitely bigger than anyone else I’d ever been with, that was certain.
I forced myself to stop, shaking off the lingering feeling of arousal that the thoughts of Micah brought up in me. Everything between him and I was going to be business from that point forward, I told myself. I scrubbed at the rest of my body, ignoring the tenderness I felt in certain specific places. “Keep focused. Just get it done.” I reminded myself of what I’d been thinking of shortly before I finally fell asleep: I was going to have to get Chris to drive me to at least three of the addresses on the list, in the hopes of collecting maybe another nine hundred—if I was optimistic—for Micah, before the weekend was over. Preferably before the night was done. If I could at least get him three thousand, I thought I could maybe negotiate the rest.
I stayed in the shower until I had a plan, working through what I could remember of the list from the night before. Chris and I would hit the addresses we knew were valid first; we’d get started as soon as we knew where they all were and could get from one to the other quickly. Chris, I decided, was going to pay for the gas—he had to have some money that hadn’t been stolen from him, since what had been stolen was Micah’s. We’d hit at least three places before the end of the night, maybe four if nothing too terrible happened.
I was feeling optimistic when I finally stepped out of the shower and dried off. I was going to get Chris to get a damn shower of his own, and then we’d be off to get some work done. I slipped one of my robes on; Chris wouldn’t care what I came out of the bedroom wearing as long as I wasn’t naked.
I combed my hair and then left my room. “Chris! Come on, we need to get going.” I walked down the hall when I saw his door open, hoping that maybe my brother had done the dishes—maybe he was even in the living room, dressed and ready to go. “I had an idea about how we can get this done as quickly as possible.” I stepped into the living room and looked around.
Chris was sitting on the couch, all right; but he wasn’t alone. Micah Rintley was seated in one of my chairs, and the guy from the night before—Manny, I thought he was—was in the other. My heart pounded in my chest and for a second I thought it might actually explode out of me, even as it felt as if my knees might give at the same time.
“You probably should have given a fake name,” Micah said quietly, smiling slightly. My brother looked at me sheepishly.
“You let them in?” I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling at Chris.
“What choice did I have?” Chris gestured between the two men. I took a quick, deep breath and tried to swallow down the thick, dry feeling in my throat.
Micah rose to his feet and I longed for my gun—I had put it back in its case the night before, and it was in Chris’ car. “Manny, I think you should stay with Chris, here,” Micah said. He looked at me, and I could see his gaze lingering at my chest, at my hips. “I need to talk some business with Sadie—privately.” He walked toward me and I had to fight back the temptation to flinch away. “Let’s step into your room, Sadie.” I tried to pull my robe around me tighter. I couldn’t see any way to avoid it; I took another deep breath and followed Micah Rintley toward my bedroom.