I open my eyes and chuckle. “I was just picturing it all. You’ve really outdone yourselves. It’s everything I wanted.”
“Will it earn me coffee on the house?”
“Of course. Though, don’t be surprised if you find yourself attracting the attention of a book girl or two.”
“Please, they have nothing on club girls.”
I snort. “Oh my sad, sweet, uneducated man. Book girlies are a whole different breed of crazy. Just ask Neveah.”
He frowns, looking confused, so I take pity on him.
“Bikers in the real world can be intimidating to most people, but book girlies just see a thirst trap. Being kidnapped isconsidered foreplay, and knowing how to murder someone and get away with it is a flex most can boast about.”
“I’m not sure I’m supposed to be turned on by this, but…” He looks down at his dick. Naturally, I follow suit before I realize what I’m doing and see he is indeed getting hard.
I smack him in the chest, hurting my hand and not him at all, judging by his smirk.
“You can tell me more about book women tomorrow. I’ll take notes.”
“Dear god, I’ve created a monster. You should ask Neveah. I bet she can give you a lot of information. Hell, the only thing crazier than a reader who has a thirst for smutty goodness is the author who writes it. I bet you’d be surprised at the random crap she has stored in her head.”
He looks at me and snorts. “No, I wouldn’t. That woman is crazier than a soup sandwich.”
“Who comes up with these sayings?” I grumble as he laughs and walks backward to the door.
“See you tomorrow, Delphi.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, waving to Capone, who is already waiting in the truck.
Once I’m alone again, I let the smile slip from my face. I look around the place, and instead of seeing warmth and comfort, I see lots of places for people to hide.
“Damn you, Lee,” I hiss, clenching my fists. “Haven’t you taken enough?” I snap before moving around the building to make sure everything is locked up. I recheck my watch before heading upstairs.
All of Theo’s stuff has been moved to the house, so it’s pretty bare up here. It’s a spot he mostly uses to do homework while I’m pottering around. But right now, it’s a quiet space for me to breathe without anyone judging me.
I walk into the bathroom, flip on the light, and stare at myself in the mirror. I look the same, maybe a little thinner because my appetite has been shot to shit lately. But for the most part, people will see the illusion I painted with a delicate hand, a few brush strokes of color to hide the pale skin and dark eyes underneath. I have an insane urge to wash away the makeup to check for cracks and visible proof that I’m fracturing.
I grip the countertop and take a few deep breaths, unwilling to risk a panic attack in case it triggers another seizure. Thankfully, I haven’t had one in a while, largely because I’m unwilling to push through the fog and deal with shit. I keep telling myself that it’s better for my mental health to seal the box closed and move on. Nothing good can come from unearthing something that’s been buried for so long. It’s not that it will trigger a memory. I’ve had zero flashbacks, vague recalls, or even a sense of déjà vu from any of the nights Lee pimped me out to his friends. I grip the counter harder, my fingers turning white at the thought.
Pimping me out. He sold my unconscious body and made a profit off it. I shake my head, feeling vomit swirl in my gut at the thought, and snap the lid back on the box.
No, it won’t do me any good to go there. In a way, it’s a blessing that whatever he drugged me with stole any recollection of what happened. It’s hard enough to deal with the knowledge that it happened without having to cope with the emotional aftermath of traumatic memories invading my brain.
My cell phone pings, so I pull it out from the back pocket of my jeans and see it’s a message from Theo. I open it and frown when I read it.
Going to be late, heading to a friend’s house to study for a test tomorrow.
A friend, huh? I wonder if that’s code for a girl. Theo tended not to mention much about friends. It’s not that I don’t thinkhe has the potential to be popular if that’s what he wanted, but living the life he has means he has zero interest in bullshit. A girl, though? Well, that might just change things. And at fifteen, when your hormones are going wild? Yeah, I wasn’t about to call him on it. Though it might be worth sitting him down and talking to him, or getting Kruger to. I’m sure he has the whole birds and the bees thing down, given what he’s faced, but I’d like him to have a more comprehensive knowledge about things like contraception and responsibility.
I should call someone to pick me up and take me home, but it’s nice to have a moment alone to breathe. I slip off my shoes, place my phone on the bedside table, and crawl onto the bed. I lie down and will myself to relax, to push everything out of my head. It must work because the sound of my phone ringing makes me jolt awake.
I scramble for my phone and see I’ve been sleeping for two hours. Seeing its Theo calling, I clear my throat and answer, forcing some cheer into my voice.
“Were you really studying or did you have a date?” I tease.
“De..lp..hi,” he gasps out.
I bolt upright. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
