At thirty-three I’ve wondered when the man will fully let go of the reins and realize this is my life. I’m not a campaign trophy and never will be. To think that there was a time in my life when I was a daddy’s girl.
“Randy, can you connect that data to my system,” I call out as I stop in front of my computer to punch in some numbers and data for the car I took for a spin.
“Got it, boss. Sending it now,” he answers.
My thoughts travel to my mom. If she were still here, she’d know a better way to go about helping Shawna. I might be getting in over my head.
“Hey, Louis—”
My words are cutoff as I’m grabbed by the back of the neck and shoved toward my office. I look up as best I can to find a very pissed looking Pit dragging my ass along. I start to flay, trying to get out of his hold, but he tightens his grasp and moves faster.
My little legs barely meet the floor as he keeps moving with his long strides. I’d probably laugh my ass off at the sight we make if I didn’t know what is coming and why this man is in my place of business, storming through like a raging bull.
One clock has run out.
He releases me with a shove and slams my office door closed behind us. I spin on him and put my hands on my hips, my chest heaving. He rushes right in to crowd my space and bends so we’re nose to nose.
“Have you lost your mind?” he snarls. “Marquis’ race club? This is what you’re asking me to get into?”
“Yes,” I say just above a whisper.
“No,” he barks. “I was curious as fuck as to why you needed me to drive so bad you’d offer to be in my bed for a month. That shit ain’t sit right with me, so I started digging. Guess what, Skittles?”
“What?”
“I don’t like the answers I’m getting, especially because those answers went cold and if you’re racing in that club, it means I need to start asking in places that will get you hurt.”
“Then stop asking,” I mutter.
His eyes widen before he narrows them at me. He turns to pace to the door and then back. When I say he’s furious—a vein is popping from his forehead and his cheeks are red.
“I don’t know what you think you need to do, but this is over. You’re not racing in that club. Cut your losses and move on,” he demands.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why the fuck not?” he growls. “Do you understand the purpose of those races? Do you get what you’re placing yourself in the middle of?”
I huff and drop my hands to my sides. “Yeah, I get it. It’s why I need you.”
“They run drugs, Mayven. The winners carry drugs for Marquis. What’s so important you’d put your life and freedom at risk. You’re smarter than this.”
“I know what they run. I know what I’m doing. I know who they are.”
“No, baby. You have no idea who they are or who you are dealing with. Those motherfuckers are savages. You’re not about that life.”
“But you are. You’re the most savage dude I know. Everyone either fears or respects you. I just need you on my team so I can get in and get the respect I need to race. With you, they won’t fuck with me. I can race and handle my shit,” I snap back.
“What shit?”
I clamp my mouth shut. He wouldn’t understand. We can’t do this one Will Pitman’s way.
This guy has been one of my friends for twelve years. I may avoid being alone with him like the plague, but we have still built a friendship. At least I think we have.
A dude once spilled his drink on me in a club in New York. Pit shut that motherfucker down for the night after the dude said, and I quote. “Watch where you’re going, bitch.”
The two of us are alike in the fact that we have no in between and absolutely no off switch. However, this time, for Shawna, I have to think first.
When I don’t respond, he shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no pussy in the world I’ll put your life in danger for. Not even yours.”
“Pit—”
“Forget it, Skittles. Forget all about that race club, those races, and whatever else you’ve gotten yourself into. I’m not doing it.”
With that, he turns and storms out of my office. I sag back and lean my butt against my desk as tears start to flow. I have to figure this out.
Pit
I storm into the bar and head down to the cellar where I had a gym built. I need to blow off some steam. Every time, every single time I get involved with Skittles, it turns into some shit.
For a chick I’ve never fucked, I can never for the life of me figure out how I’m always in the middle of something. However, this… she’s putting her life in danger and I’m not having it. She shouldn’t be anywhere near those races or that race club.
I’m pissed because she won’t tell me why she feels she needs to do this. I could find out, but like I told her. If I dig where I need to, she’s going to be exposed and I don’t know the details.
I won’t risk it.
“Hey, Pit,” Ox says and shoots me a nod.
I should have known I’d find his big ass down here. At six six, at least 270 pounds, Ox makes me feel like a toddler. When he walked through my doors to inform me Blake sent him for a job,
