Page 30 of Rough Rider (Bad Boy High)
“I know.” He takes my hand again. “Food.”
We stop at a pizza shop and grab a couple of small pies. “I really never would have guessed you as a pineapple pizza person,” I say. “Which should be illegal, by the way."
"Not big on following the rules."
I snort a laugh. "Fair point." I open and unlock my apartment door for us.
I have noticed the building has been cleaned up some, and I don't only mean the locks being fixed and the elevator functioning again without making any weird sound. I still only get on it if Niki is with me, which is turning out to be all the time. I’m not complaining in the least. It’s nice having him around. I think I’d feel so alone without him right now.
"Have you tried it before?"
"No," I admit.
He sets the pizza boxes down before flipping the lock back on my door. "My sister got me on it." I melt inside every time he talks about his sister. I'd like to meet her and his mom one day, but I know that's moving quickly. If he wanted that, he'd ask, and I'm not going to overstep.
He proceeds to pick the boxes back up and head toward the kitchen. He places them onto the counter before opening the cabinets to grab paper plates and napkins for us. He’s been here so much lately that he already knows where everything is.
“I guess I’ll try it. If Julie recommends it, then it must be good.” I watch as Niki grabs a slice from one of the boxes. I’m expecting him to put it on a plate for me, but instead he lifts it to my mouth for me to take a bite.
I let out a surprised moan as the sweetness and savoriness hit my tongue. That isn't bad at all. Niki’s eyes turn heated. I lick my lips.
“Come on, before I end up eating you.”
That doesn't sound bad either. I'd let him.
He puts the pizza onto the plates for us before taking them back over to the couch and flipping on the TV. I settle in next to him. For once, this place feels like home, and it has nothing to do with the apartment. It’s all Niki.
Chapter Twenty-One
NIKI
“How could they ignore the eyewitnesses?” Andy throws the remote halfway across the room.
“Poor kids. No one believes poor kids, and no one really cares what happens to them.”
“The guys gave the police a description of the man who attacked their friend.” She folds and unfolds her arms in obvious frustration.
I smooth her hair down the back of her head, just listening to her, letting her know I’m here. I could sit with her all day while she vented about the police, the school system, the price of eggs. Basically anything. I want tobewith her. If we were on an island with nothing but sand and water as far as the eye could see, I’d be happy.
“And then how many more women were killed because the police weren’t interested in what these actual witnesses had to say?”
“Too many.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s the reason why gangs run the streets. The cops turn a blind eye to the shit that goes down here.” People with powerdon’t care about us, and so when someone steps forward with their hand out, you take it even if the same hand will strike you down.
She turns suddenly. Her expression is serious and not as irritated. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” I lean back against the sofa cushions and pull her legs over mine. I’ve got this weird compulsion to constantly be in contact with her, even if it’s just my hand on her hair or her feet in my lap.
“How did you get involved with the Riders in the first place?”
“Three years ago, someone snatched my little sister from daycare. My mom had a day shift over at a fancy hotel downtown. It was a good job, but she couldn’t be home during the day. We had this system that Mom would drop Julie off, and I’d pick her up after school. One day, when I arrived, Julie was gone.”
”Gone? Someone took her?”
I nod.
