“When can I see you?” The need in his voice made me clench inside all over again.
I licked my lips, as the many warnings from the other girls sounded in my head. I’d never taken a man home with me, and it seemed everyone but me had a horror story.
“Anthony? You alive in there, son? That girl ain’t big enough to suffocate your narrow ass.” His friend taunted from outside the door.
“Fuck off, C.C.!” Anthony yelled toward the door.
I knew better, but there was something besides the thundering bass, and electric charge between us. I was trembling inside and out, and every time he looked at me, I forgot how to breathe again.
“Fuck, Anthony, get out here.” C.C. roared, all the play gone from his voice. “Hurry the fuck up, Mak’s got something brewing out here in the parking lot.”
Anthony’s hand slammed against the wall beside me, and I screamed, my shoulders pinching protectively toward my neck.
“Give me your fuckin’ number, I don’t have time for this hard-to-get shit.”
I blinked, my lungs suddenly failing me for an entirely different reason. Those lust-filled eyes were hardening right before me. His jaw set and he scoffed, shoving off the wall.
My lips tested a slew of shapes, but my lungs still couldn’t lend wind to words. I watched him storm out of the champagne room, slapping a hand over my mouth to catch the sob.
How close had I been to a horror story?
How the fuck could an entitled animal look so good?
Chapter Five
Let the Shit Show Begin
Anthony
Every. Fucking. Time.
Why did these assholes have to ruin every little decent time I found? My dick was hard, and half my mind was still back in the dimly lit room with Crystal, when I shoved the door of the Pink Cabaret open with everything I had.
The hostess who was clutching a phone and gawking out the nearby window yelped and jumped back like I’d taken a shot at her, but I didn’t stop to apologize.
If I had to spend my night miserable, I wouldn’t be the only one.
C.C. was drilling some redneck that his brother, Montana, had pinned in a chokehold. Mark was trading punches with someone and bouncing off the side of an SUV. Which, of course, meant the whole parking lot was being serenaded by obnoxious beeping and blinking lights.
I hated alarms. Even if I wasn’t home the night my parents burnt to death, I was tortured by fire-alarm-riddled nightmares. Mymind seemed to revel in the land of what ifs, rather than peaceful dreams.
I focused on Mak, who was rolling around the pebbled parking lot, trying to get the better of a sizable man in a long-sleeved shirt, and jeans that were just a little bit too tight. I didn’t need to wait and watch; the bastard was more than double his size. When he mounted Mak and drew back, I used the momentum of his first swing to my advantage, clutching the back of his head, I flung the both of us forward. I helped him kiss the gravel beside Mak. It must have been a full-on open-mouthed kiss, because his teeth scattered everywhere.
The bastard was out cold, but Makaveli was moaning and stirring.
“Get the fuck up,” I scoffed, shooting off my knees when I saw the blue-and-red in the distance. “Come on, there’s lights.”
“We’re out!” Mark yelled over the chaos.
The parking lot exploded in a chorus of thunder as we started toward the busy avenue. We weren’t brand new to the shit; those cars would part like a biblical sea for lit up squad cars.
They always did.
It was only a matter of seconds.
C.C. gave the gesture for us to split up, and we hit the road with as much chaos as possible. Half of the men turned out like we should have, but Big Vick hooked a right, so me and Mak followed. The three of us braved our luck toward the oncoming police.
One squad car hooked a U turn.
