Page 23 of Justyce
“Dark One, you think you’re safe, that I wouldn’t come back for you after our little romp in the theatre. Boy were you wrong,” Justyce chuckles quietly before continuing. “I like this game of cat and mouse, where you act like you hate me when deep down I can already tell your soaking through that little piece of cotton triangle covering your sweet cunt. You can’t hide from me. And even when you think you’re hidden… I see you.”
I pull myself free from the memory, shaking my head to rid myself of the lust induced dream I’m in again. The darkness is deafening, and even with the sounds of the waves crushing against the shore, which used to feel like my one reprieve, all it represents now is a part of my prison.
I crack one eye open and huff. My surroundings remind me this isn’t a dream or even a nightmare. This is a hell that I’ve been forced into against my will. Deep down I don’t try to kid myself, because if Justyce had come to me and told me that Dereke owed a debt and it was either me or my mother, I would have succumbed to his conditions, there is no if’s, when’s, or but’s.
I’m utterly disgusted in myself for being so fucking weak, for being the parent when I’m supposed to be the damn kid in the relationship with my mother. I force my eye closed and hope that when I wake up this will all be over. I laugh quietly to myself because I know once you enter the dragon’s dungeon you don’t come out alive, and if you do… well you’re never the same again.
Chapter Nine – Justyce
Fucking agony. That’s what it feels like to be so close to Kenzi yet so fucking far. For the past few days I wait for her to fall asleep then sneak in and drop off water and food. She never eats the food but she drinks the water. It’s starting to piss me off.
The pen in my hand hits the paper on my desk with force, but I continue tapping. It’s a nervous habit, actually, more frustration or anger induced if I’m honest with myself.
Glancing out the open French doors that lead to the balcony, the salty sea breeze wafts in and calms me some. Stars flicker in the clear aphotic sky, taunting and teasing me, leading me to be envious of the fucking stars. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Kenzi. That’s what wrong with me. I want her to suffer, to feel the angst and rage I’ve lived with for over eleven years. I pushed her out of Dana Point when really I should have kept her like a little pet on a leash. At least then I could have had my way with her whenever I wanted. No one would have thought otherwise.
Shaking my head, I know that would have never happened. It wasn’t in the cards. Eleven years ago that night changed everything. If it was up to me I would have blackmailed her and she would have never left, our dark souls dancing as one together. It was that moment I learned to hate her more than lust her.
Kenzi placed me in a situation that tied my hands behind my back like some fucking flunky. It was either kill her or scare her away. The latter prevailed.
I kick the deep mahogany desk and pull at my hair. My cell chimes saving me from my fucked up thoughts.
“What?” I bark after answering.
A light chuckle reverberates through the speaker. “Still hard up, brother?”
“Fuck you, Arrow. What do you want?”
“Have you forgotten what tonight is?”
I peer down at the small block calendar on my desk and frown. I have absolutely no fucking idea. Since Kenzi arrived my head has been in a state of cataclysm, definitely not what I was expecting or use to.
“You really are pussy whipped,” he laughs. “That gun run you’re supposed to do it in a couple of hours. Remember?”
Fuck.
“Shit, yeah. We all going?”
“If you mean Acheron and me, yeah.”
“Give me twenty and I’ll be ready and pick you both up. We’ll head out in the truck.”
“No need, douchebag. We live on the same street. Man your head is all over the show.” He laughs. “Catch you in fifteen, J.” I hear the smile in his voice as the phone disconnects.Asshole.
Storming into the kitchen I find Olga my cook in her pajamas making tea. She turns on her heels, hand over her heart, and curses me in Croatian.
“Jesi li lud? Uplašio si me.”
Are you crazy? You scared the fuck out of me.
I chuckle under my breath every time she cusses. Olga is old enough to be my grandmother. Her salt and pepper short hair frames her round face and I always want to squeeze her chubby cheeks.
“I’m heading out. I’ll be back later. Have you made something for ourguest?”
Olga screws up her face and I know she’s not happy with the arrangement, but she’s well aware of the life I live. I know she loves me for whatever fucked up reason so I’m not at all surprised when she scolds me.
“I no likea this,” her deeply accented voice sears me. If I didn’t know her, I’d cringe at her accusing tone.
