As bad as I need to give it to her.
Problem for both of us is we have more pressing issues than my hard dick to deal with, and I’m not a hundred percent sure which one is more dangerous at the moment, the angry mob boss running a fight club or the club between my legs.
I resolve to distract myself with why she was there in the first place, as glad as I am she was. I need to know how much trouble she’s in if I’m going to be of any use.
Her other, pressing needs can be dealt with straight after that.
“Why bet on a fight like that?” I ask her point blank, “Why put all that money on me… how much do you owe Marconi?”
As soon as I say it, I regret it. The mention of his name makes her face fall, her flushed features go pale and she starts to shudder for a different reason.
My only instinct is to help her, protect her.
Upsetting her makes feels like a knife to my stomach.
“I need to know so I can help,” I say firmly, wanting to reach over and touch her again, but remember the warning she gave me which goes double for me.
If I touch her again I can’t be held responsible for what happens. It’s a power beyond my control right now.
“My dad…” she begins to say, recovering and focusing on the road ahead, gripping the wheel tighter and avoiding my gaze but I know why. She needs to focus and her control makes me proud. Makes me want to please her even more.
That’s one I owe you already…
If I can’t have her right this minute, I can count off in my mind the times, the ways I’ll make her come for me. The ways I’ll make her scream my name, begging me to let her come for me again and again.
She needs it more than ever. Someone to show her how fucking beautiful she is, someone to make her feel special, as special as she really is.
“What about your dad?” I ask her, trying to sound a little gentler but still hard enough to draw some truth out of her. The mention of anyone that’s not me in the same sentence as her right now is enough to get my back up, even if it is her dad.
“…Dad owns a bike shop, motorcycles. He started a year ago but…” she says tentatively, breaking off.
“But what?” I press her, just wanting her to trust me enough to tell me everything.
“…It was on Marconi’s block. He owns that side of town. At first it was protection, just a few hundred a week…”
But I know where this story goes. I’ve seen it in action enough times to know how Marconi and all those like him work. Small threats disguised as help become much larger, very real threats.
“How much?” I ask her, shaking my head and puffing air out through my cheeks.
I might’ve known…
“It was only a small loan, to cover the quiet time we had after dad had his heart attack…”
“How much,” I demand, losing patience, but not with her. Just sick of the likes of Marconi. The damage they cause to people’s lives. As if he needs the money. Guy’s a fucking millionaire a hundred times over.
I growl again, seeing I’ve made her cry. We get over the bridge and she takes a turn off I don’t know. I assume we’re going someplace she does know.
“How much?” I ask, not letting it go just because she’s upset. Hell, I’m upset now. But I need to know the details if we’re gonna have a chance at a plan.
“A hundred thousand…” she says quietly, and I suck in air through my teeth.
A stale, bad taste in my mouth when I think of Marconi’s interest, his late fees and general all around cruelty when it comes to loaning money.
At a hundred large, I’d reckon her dad’s up for a cool million, after all’s said and done. If he lives that long.
We drive in silence for a while and I look out the window, trying to figure out where the hell we are. Not my side of the bridge and not Marconi’s either.
“I’m house sitting,” she explains, sniffing back the last of her tears and reading my thoughts.
“I can stay for free as long as I walk the dog and water the plants while the owners are overseas,” she says, sounding a little less fragile the closer we get to somewhere she can feel safe, call home.
I need to know more, “The money you put up, what was that for,” I ask her.
“Rent,” she murmurs gravely, looking sick again in a split second.
“I thought you just said-”
“My dad’s rent. On the shop. On his apartment over it…” she adds somberly, “plus all my savings. Our savings… Ah, shit! What have I done?”
She loses it, starts to bawl uncontrollably and I have to guide the wheel some as she pulls over, finally becoming overcome with her emotions.
Fuck you Marconi, you’ll pay for this. I swear I’ll make you pay!
I want to hold her, to tell her everything’s alright, but I’m a big guy, and this hatchback is miniature. I’m crammed into my seat like a sardine in a can. Plus I’m not sure everything will be just alright. I’m in enough hot water with Marconi as it is, I’m vengeful but I’m not a fucking magician.
Marconi isn’t an easy enemy to have, easy enough to make, but a hard one to shake once he’s crossed.
A few painful moments later, my girl says she’s good to get us home, which is only a few more blocks. And she makes it. Makes me proud of her for the second time.
That’s two I owe you…
CHAPTER SEVEN
Roxy
Instead of making me feel better by saying it all out loud, I feel worse.
I feel so stupid.
Dillon doesn’t say much, only looks meaner and growls a lot. I know he’s not mad at me,
