Page 10 of Nothing is Free

“Trys, please,” she begs again as I take the vibrator and tease her pussy lips, running it up and down her folds, then bam, I hit her clit and hold it there and she howls.

“Fuuccck!! Oh shit! Oh shit!!” she chants as her hips buck off the bed. “Don’t stop, please! Don’t you dare fucking stop!” she shouts as I count to five in my head, her breath hitches and I remove all stimulation.

“Dirty little Beta,” I whisper, my eyes widen slightly at the smut my girl listens to. This is the last book in the series,Unbrokenby Dreia Wells. Well, I’ve enjoyed it so far. Iwould have enjoyed it even more if my Cariña was here to finish it with me. I will make sure to show her just how much I appreciate her choice in literature when she’s back in my arms. My head falls forward and I brace myself against the counter, tossing my rag into the trash. The sudden need to catch my breath as the weight of the past few days steals the oxygen from my lungs. The audiobook continues, the moans and groans of the narrators drone on in the background as I try to ease the ache in my chest.

The door behind me opens, followed by the sound of my receptionist Bryce cursing at the interruption. “Shit boss, my apologies.”

“Alexa. Pause Audible,” I say quickly before I turn and address Bryce. He twirls his finger in the air, a clear indication he’s about to make a comment about what he walked in on. He opens his mouth and I stop him before he does. As raw as I’m feeling right now, I might fire him for making fun of my girl’s book suggestion.

“What do you need?” I ask, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms over my chest.

He clears his throat and bites back a smile. Asshole. “Trey is here,” he says before he turns and begins to leave, then, he pauses. All the humor has gone from his face, he tucks his hands in the front of his black skinny jeans, the chains hanging over his belt loops rattle with his movement.

“Are you okay? I can reschedule, Vic, maybe you?—”

“No. Trey is familia. I’m fine. Tell him to come back, I’m ready,” I say, turning around and busying myself once more. I know Bryce means well, but I can’t go home. Not right now, not in this headspace. I need to work.

“Okay. I’ll send him in.” He doesn’t hesitate after that. The sound of the door closing behind me has me leaning against the counter once more. I glance at my reflection in themirror and stare at weary gray eyes. My white-tipped hair tousled haphazardly; my skin is pale with just a hint of beard growth. I look like I don’t give a fuck. I inhale and exhale, pulling my shit together before another knock on the door has me moving over to my drafting table in preparation.

“Come,” I call out as I pull out the sketch I worked on this morning for this exact appointment.

Trey peeks his head through the door then opens it slowly as we both assess one another. I am sure he can see straight through my calm façade. Freeya missing is affecting him as well, I see. Behind his glasses are the eyes of a tired man; I wonder then how Mercy is coping. He takes a step inside and closes the door, shoulders sagging in relief. I can only assume, like me, he too is eager to be away from home. Dressed in dark denim jeans and a white T-shirt, this is Trey’s version of dressing down. Although, he’s still rocking his signature suspenders.

“Vic, you look like me after an all-night stress session in my studio.” He runs a hand down his face and sighs, crossing over to the tattoo bed and taking a seat.

I attempt a smirk, trying to think of something witty to say in response but come up short. “You look no better than I do. Mercy okay?” I ask as I cross the room with the sketch for his tattoo in my hand.

“Not sleeping, worried about Free. She has us all on high alert awaiting Dez’s call. Lots of tears when she’s not working, of course. All we can do is reassure her everything will be okay and support any way we can.” He shrugs. “It’s not our first rodeo. The past few months have been tough for us all. Mercy is strong and she will bounce back once she knows her best friend is home safe.”

I nod at his words, unsure what to say. Like him, I have no reassurances to give. I am hanging on to the same hope;my hope that my brother will figure out a way to find her. Last night, there were still no leads, but today is a new day. I believe in Dez.

Clearing my throat, I hold out the drawing for him to approve, not wanting to discuss the heaviness in the room. I need to work. If I work, then I’m not thinking about my Carina. If I’m working, I can’t think about what she is going through, even if I can feel the torrent of her emotions through our bond. I never considered my bond to be torturous until now. Feeling her sadness, fear, and pain alongside the rest of my pack is almost too much to bear.

Trey studies the image and smiles. “Vic, this is perfection. She’s going to love it. I can’t wait to actually play this for Mercy. I am planning to reveal it at the next pack night,” he says as he hands the image back to me. I turn and make quick work of copying the image of Trey’s composition onto transfer paper. The man composed a piece of music for Mercy and is now placing it permanently on his back. A few months ago, I would have made fun of him, but now, I understand exactly how sick love actually is. It makes us do the craziest shit. The reward though, the gift of their love in return, the joy you feel for putting a smile on your love’s face, is priceless.

With a steady hand I make the last swirl of a musical note and stand to admire my work. Perfection. I don’t have to hear the music to know Trey composed something magical. A small smile graces my face. My artwork is masterful all on its own. This might be my best work yet. Well, until tomorrow at least.

“Alright. Let’s begin,” I say as the sound of my tattoo gun makes its own kind of music.

“Hey, Boss, everyone has cleared out for the night. I’m headed out. Do you need me for anything else?”

Looking over my shoulder, I notice Bryce’s keys swinging from his fingers as he shifts from foot to foot. He’s been here all day with me and by the excited wide-eyed look he’s giving me, he’s anxious to get out of here.

“I’m good, Bryce. See you Monday,” I say quickly, turning back to the task of putting away my tools for the night.

The room is quiet for a moment before he clears his throat. I hang my head, knowing he wants to say more, so I wait. Although, the last thing I want to do is think about home and everything that comes with the pain of returning to it.

“I’m not inviting you out, but, if you want to get a drink, maybe talk.” I don’t have to turn around to know he’s shoved his tattooed hands in his jeans, his Vans shuffling along the tiled floor. “A few of us will be at M. Bar. Shoot me a?—”

I drop my rag, turning around to face him and lean against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. “Thank you, Bryce. I’m good though. I’m going to finish up here and head home.”

Bryce watches me for a moment, then shrugs. “Alright, well, I hope you guys get some news soon. I wish. . .I wish there was more I could do to help.” He sighs. “Just don’t sleep here, Boss. Go home and?—”

“Bryce. I promise.” I hold up my hand in surrender, “I am going home. Go. Drink and be merry, don’t worry about me. I’m sure Dez has some news.” I hope. I let my lips turn up in reassuring smile and his shoulders drop in what I can onlyassume is relief. Bryce has worked for me for two years now and I am lucky to have people other than my pack that are genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. I’m not my usual happy-go-lucky self, understandably, but this is not his burden to bear.

“Well, text me if you need anything,” he says, after giving me one final once over. As if my carefully crafted façade of calm, cool, and collected will come tumbling down around me at any moment. Nope, the fact that I am crumbling on the inside is for me and me alone. Bryce nods, lips pursed, like he wants to say more but he raps his knuckles against the door in farewell before he closes it behind him.

Blowing out a breath, I turn back to my task of cleaning my office when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Groaning, I reach for it, already knowing who it is before I look at the screen.

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