Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Lena Bourne
overtaking would run straight into us. End this shit once and for all.
"And you were never in any danger in prison either," he spits out. "I took care of all that for you too. And how do you repay me? By running away with some nerdy chick. She's not even that hot."
Gail is that hot and more. And I can't punch him right now because then I might never get to touch her again. Never kiss her, hold her, come inside her. Just the thought is making me hard.
"OK, if I continue working for these people, and be really good at it, can I go back to seeing Gail?" I ask, knowing I'm leaving myself wide open here for Mike to torment me with this, but I'm hoping he can hear the sarcasm. This whole situation is so ridiculous. But I have to make sure Gail is safe.
Mike chuckles, and I don't think I've ever hated him this much. "We'll see, Scott. It all depends on your behavior from now on. Kind of like it did in prison."
"How do you mean I was never in any danger there?" I ask.
"Remember Boris?"
I nod. Boris was my cellmate after my first one got stabbed over a juice box at lunch. He was a grumpy, surly guy, but he could tell all sorts of interesting stories. Old legends from Serbia, the country he was originally from.
"As long as he was there, no harm would have come to you," Mike assures me.
"And you fixed that for me?" I ask. Mike must really be crazier than I ever imagined. He’s having illusions of grandeur now. I read about those. I wonder if we're even going to meet real people right now. Or just some empty room filled with his imaginary friends.
"Yes," Mike says. "It took some convincing, but Vlado finally agreed. So you should be thanking me for not getting raped in the showers. You couldn't have stopped it on your own."
He smacks my arm, probably indicating my muscles.
"You're talking about rape like it's a funny thing," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. I'll never use that word lightly again. Not after what I've seen. And now my guilt over what I did to Gail on the second night she came to me is mixing with everything else. I manage to chase those memories away, because I'm sharing the car with a psycho right now, and getting raped might actually be the more welcome option, if I had to choose.
He laughs and pulls off the expressway in the industrial zone. We're driving along a straight narrow road now, flanked on both sides by low rectangular buildings, interspersed with fields of brown grass, a leafless tree here and there.
He gets off the main road, pulls into one of the larger complexes. Lazarus Logistics is written in cracking, broken letters across the entrance. A large guard with a pockmarked face opens the ramp, waves us through.
"We're here," Mike says lightly as he parks in front of a large, dark weather-beaten warehouse. "Speak only when spoken to for now." He grabs my arm as I move to get out of the car. "And, Scott, watch what you say very carefully."
I know what he's asking, that I need to curb my sarcasm, but I can't make any promises right now. This looks like exactly the type of place I never wanted to be in again. It's straight from some action movie scene, and these types of visits don't usually end well.
A guy about my age holds open the doors for us. He eyes me up and down as we approach, but his face is so blank I have no idea what he's thinking. The edge of a tattoo is peeking out over the collar of his jacket. I never trust anyone who tattoos their necks. It means they don't have much left to lose. Although I could be wrong. Everyone seems to have at least two tattoos these days.
Some of the exhilaration I felt when Derek first let me start stealing cars for him returns as we enter the warehouse. I fight it though. It was dumb then, and I sure as fuck don't want to do it anymore.
"He's in the basement," the guy who opened the door says, his voice totally toneless. "Waiting for you."
Mike grins at me, and starts walking towards a dark stairwell at the far end of the vast
"And you were never in any danger in prison either," he spits out. "I took care of all that for you too. And how do you repay me? By running away with some nerdy chick. She's not even that hot."
Gail is that hot and more. And I can't punch him right now because then I might never get to touch her again. Never kiss her, hold her, come inside her. Just the thought is making me hard.
"OK, if I continue working for these people, and be really good at it, can I go back to seeing Gail?" I ask, knowing I'm leaving myself wide open here for Mike to torment me with this, but I'm hoping he can hear the sarcasm. This whole situation is so ridiculous. But I have to make sure Gail is safe.
Mike chuckles, and I don't think I've ever hated him this much. "We'll see, Scott. It all depends on your behavior from now on. Kind of like it did in prison."
"How do you mean I was never in any danger there?" I ask.
"Remember Boris?"
I nod. Boris was my cellmate after my first one got stabbed over a juice box at lunch. He was a grumpy, surly guy, but he could tell all sorts of interesting stories. Old legends from Serbia, the country he was originally from.
"As long as he was there, no harm would have come to you," Mike assures me.
"And you fixed that for me?" I ask. Mike must really be crazier than I ever imagined. He’s having illusions of grandeur now. I read about those. I wonder if we're even going to meet real people right now. Or just some empty room filled with his imaginary friends.
"Yes," Mike says. "It took some convincing, but Vlado finally agreed. So you should be thanking me for not getting raped in the showers. You couldn't have stopped it on your own."
He smacks my arm, probably indicating my muscles.
"You're talking about rape like it's a funny thing," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. I'll never use that word lightly again. Not after what I've seen. And now my guilt over what I did to Gail on the second night she came to me is mixing with everything else. I manage to chase those memories away, because I'm sharing the car with a psycho right now, and getting raped might actually be the more welcome option, if I had to choose.
He laughs and pulls off the expressway in the industrial zone. We're driving along a straight narrow road now, flanked on both sides by low rectangular buildings, interspersed with fields of brown grass, a leafless tree here and there.
He gets off the main road, pulls into one of the larger complexes. Lazarus Logistics is written in cracking, broken letters across the entrance. A large guard with a pockmarked face opens the ramp, waves us through.
"We're here," Mike says lightly as he parks in front of a large, dark weather-beaten warehouse. "Speak only when spoken to for now." He grabs my arm as I move to get out of the car. "And, Scott, watch what you say very carefully."
I know what he's asking, that I need to curb my sarcasm, but I can't make any promises right now. This looks like exactly the type of place I never wanted to be in again. It's straight from some action movie scene, and these types of visits don't usually end well.
A guy about my age holds open the doors for us. He eyes me up and down as we approach, but his face is so blank I have no idea what he's thinking. The edge of a tattoo is peeking out over the collar of his jacket. I never trust anyone who tattoos their necks. It means they don't have much left to lose. Although I could be wrong. Everyone seems to have at least two tattoos these days.
Some of the exhilaration I felt when Derek first let me start stealing cars for him returns as we enter the warehouse. I fight it though. It was dumb then, and I sure as fuck don't want to do it anymore.
"He's in the basement," the guy who opened the door says, his voice totally toneless. "Waiting for you."
Mike grins at me, and starts walking towards a dark stairwell at the far end of the vast
Readers choose
Delilah Devlin
J. M. Darhower
Stacie Simpson
User
Nathanael West
Vivi Dumas
Jon Land
Eric J. Hobsbawm
Teri Hall