Chapter Two
Bottom Line: In the Red
~Trapper~
“Roll tide,” the high voice greets me.
“You just wake up?” I shouldn’t ask, but I did. I shouldn’t care, but I do. I shouldn’t even consider it, but I’m too far gone now.
“No, and would it matter if I did?” There is hope laced in each word. It needs to die. All I’m doing is making this worse in the long run.
Hope leads to inevitable disappointment. The history between Avery and me is a tangled mess, one that landed me bloody on Old Earl’s doorstep more than once.
“I’m in town, but heading back out,” I cut to the chase. Just like ripping off a Band-Aid, I need to make this quick. “I’ve made some new arrangements for you.”
“Why?” the question automatically comes out.
If only I knew why I had made the deal in the first place, it would answer more than just this momentary question.
“Gave my word. Keep my word.”
“You’re released from your obligation, Mitchell.” The sound of my given name from that voice is my heaven and my hell entwined.
“If you stay at this place, you’ll be doing me and a friend a solid favor.”
“A favor, huh?” There is a sharpness to the tone, and it hits me in my gut.
“Gotta ride for a while. Collector … Well, he collected himself an old lady, and she’s got herself a house here. Real nice place, low key, and no neighbors on top of you like the apartment.”
“Go on,” Avery encourages, and for a moment, I have hope.
“She’s got some fish. Feed the fish, keep ’em alive, and the place is yours. When we make our way back to ’Bama, we’ll discuss what happens next.”
“Don’t treat me like a dirty, little secret, Mitchell.”
“Avery,” I growl. “I don’t have time for this shit right now. You stayin’ at Sonnie’s or what?”
“I’ll consider it.”
“Dammit, what’s it gonna take to make you okay again?”
“When the time comes and you make your way back, we make a decision for good. No more waiting around, Mitchell. No more drunk calls after the skank pussy didn’t satisfy you. This is it.”
My chest heaves in anxiety. I can’t lose Avery. I can’t hold on, either.
“This is it,” I concede into the phone before I disconnect the call.
Fucking ultimatums.
The green eyes looking back at me from the mirror contain unknown evil. Swinging, I connect my fist with the glass. The mirror shatters as the blood drips down the drain.
I watch as the white sink basin fills with the red splatters of my blood dripping from my knuckles; the stark red contrasting against the white.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Bringing my head up, I see a reflection staring back at me in pieces. The reflection should be of a man. Instead, it’s a fractured soul.
Fractured.
Broken.
Damaged.
I was in the red before I was ever born. A bastard boy born to a whore, I have had Satan in my blood since conception. My debt to the devil himself will never be cleared.
Just like Ralphie, I know what forbidden is. As much as it pains Dover and Sonnie to live without Raleigh, she’s better off.
The scars to our souls never heal.
Why did we have to come here of all places?
The display on my phone lights up as it vibrates against the countertop.
I don’t answer.
My mind hears his voice without allowing him the connection. “Mitchell.” The rasp of my name comes off sultry and needy. I don’t answer but my mind gives him the power as the past slams into my head.
The phone stops as my cock hardens from memories.
The vibration comes again, and the screen lights up. Looking down, I see the same name appear.
Freeing my dick, I stroke, rolling up and down firmly, twisting the head. What I don’t do is answer the call.
The blood from my busted knuckles runs down over my cock, working as lube.
“Mitchell,” my mind replays his voice. “I’ve got you trapped,” he whispers, and my ass tightens.
I close my eyes and swear I can feel him.
Tight.
Breaking through.
No barrier. Nothing hidden.
I stroke faster. My breaths come quicker and harder. My head falls against the mirror, the shards digging in.
Pain.
I stroke wildly, releasing my come in a mess against the countertop and cabinet. Jizz and blood mix together on my hand as I work myself until I fall limp in my own hand.
Bringing my fingers to my lips, I let myself taste forbidden once again. I blink my eyes open, looking at the many versions of me in the broken glass. Then I turn on the faucet to clean up. When I make it back, I’m going to lose it all this time.
Another tally marked on the books, another debt claimed. The time has come for another ride.
After all, the devil always gets what he’s due.