I count the money and start pacing. I need her info from Johnny. I need to know who this woman is. Whoever she is, she’s going to end up being mine. Not five minutes after she’s gone, Johnny comes back. “The first drop just left. She came with everything but the interest.” I pocket her panties so he won’t see them. “Twelve grand, right?”
“We didn’t charge her interest; she didn’t know about her husband’s debt until yesterday.”
“Since when is that how we do business?” I don’t even try to keep my voice down. Blood starts pounding in my ears. “Why the fuck is she paying her husband’s debt, anyway? He doesn’t have the balls to come here himself? He sends his woman?!” The words jump from my lips before I have a moment to think.
I’m usually more controlled, more thoughtful. If this job has taught me anything, it’s that silence is deadly, and being a hothead will get you killed. But I’m shaking with rage. Anger seeps out of my pores. Anger that she’s married to a fucking coward and a bastard. But more than that, I’m fucking pissed that she’s taken.
Johnny shakes his head in confusion and slows his movements as he takes in my temper. “No, it’s not like that. He died last week, heart attack or something.”
The moment Sarah sees me, the last bit of my hardened exterior cracks. I feel my lips tremble, and bite down to prevent the tears. “What did you do, Becca?” Sarah’s pleading eyes makes me feel even shittier. She knows; she can tell. I’m sure I look like I just got fucked. My neck is pulsing from where he was biting me.
Her eyes want me to tell her she’s wrong, and they’re begging me to tell her she’s mistaken, but I can’t lie. I can feel his cum leaking out of me and running down my thigh. Evidence of my weakness, and my betrayal. The tears well up in my eyes and I can’t stop a few from leaving angry, hot trails down my cheeks. All I can manage to reply is the barest of truths, “I slept with him.”
“Don’t cry, Becca. It’s alright.”
“Rick just died, and I slept with a stranger.” I can't keep my own disgust out of my voice.
“It’s not like you two were even together in the end anyway. You'd been separated for nearly two months.” My breath comes in spasms as I rest my head on the door of my car. I loved my husband, but I can’t remember the last time he held me, the last time we made love. A criminal who probably would’ve hurt me had I shown up empty-handed gave me more compassion and showed more desire for me than Rick had in years.
My breath catches in my throat. I took advantage of her in a moment of weakness, but I didn’t fucking know how vulnerable she was. I slam my fist against the window. I didn’t fucking know! A sick, twisted churning in the pit of my stomach makes me want to heave. Fuck, I treated her like some random slut. She probably thinks I’m a fucking animal for doing that to her. Fuck! I knew she needed me. I fucking knew it.
I just needed to be held and feel like I was loved. This shattering feeling in my chest, jagged pieces of glass digging into my heart, tells me it wasn’t worth it. It hurts too much. The worst part is that a very large part of me wants--no, needs to crawl back to him and beg him to hold me again. Just one more time.
I wish I hadn’t let her go.
I wish I’d never had to meet with him.
I clench my teeth and close my eyes, wondering if I’ll ever see her again.
I breathe deep and steady myself as I drive away, knowing I’ll never see him again.
I hate myself.
I hate myself.
I’m such a dirty bastard.
Dom
“Give me her number.” After I’ve had a moment to calm down, I finally take a seat and decide to work out a plan to see her again. I can’t fucking let her go, especially not after the way I treated her.
“It’s her husband’s number.” The tic in my jaw twitches again, and I grind my teeth at his words.
“The fucker’s dead, right?” My eyes bore into Johnny’s as my words come out with enough bite to let him know I’m still on edge. He starts to answer verbally, but then decides just to nod his head. I keep staring at him, letting him get a good fucking idea of how pissed I am when he refers to that prick as her husband. “So he’s not her fucking husband.”
“Alright, boss. You got it. I just-” he stops himself and looks at the floor before continuing, “I just have his number. Not hers.”
“What’s her name?” I’m a fucking fool for not even getting her name.
He shuffles his feet, but keeps his eyes on me. He knows better than to back down, even if I am pissed off. I don’t have pussies working for me. I don’t fucking like weakness. “I don’t know.” My rage is getting the best of me. Of course he doesn’t fucking know. He probably doesn’t even know her dead husband's real name.
“What’s his number? Give it to me.” Johnny immediately takes out his cell and pushes a few buttons. My phone, still on the sectional, beeps with a text.
It’s my doll’s dead husband’s number. Perfect. I call it right away. Why? I don’t fucking know why. I immediately hang the fuck up on the first ring. What the hell is wrong with me? What am I going to say? Hey, sorry I fucked you like you were some slut. Didn’t mean to take advantage. Fucking hell, I’m losing my touch. “I’m gonna send this over to Tony.” Tony will tell me everything he can about this number. From who it belonged to, to what that fucker ate for breakfast the day he died. More importantly, I'll find out who his widow is.
“Johnny, how many of these fucking drops do I have to sit through today?”
“We’ve got three more lined up, boss,” he answers.
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” I can’t shake my irritation. I need to calm down before shit gets out of hand. I roll my shoulders, throw my scotch back and pour myself another.
“Your ma having dinner tonight?” Johnny asks me like he has no clue. Must be his fucking nerves getting the best of him.
“Relax, I’m just a bit wound up.”
“What’d she say to you that’s got you on edge?” he asks.
“She didn’t say a goddamn thing, Johnny. I’m just curious.” He raises a brow in question.
“Her pussy that good?” he asks with a smirk.
“You really wanna push me right now?” That wipes the smile off his face and puts one on mine. I laugh at him and pour him a drink. I walk over to him, a glass in each hand. He takes his drink from my hand and gives a small nod in thanks. “Salute,” I say, clinking my glass with his
“Salute.” He takes a small sip and winces as the burn stings his throat. I chuckle and gulp back the rest. I shake out my arms and already feel a bit more relaxed. I throw my feet on the table and get ready to text Tony.
“What’s the cheers for, boss?”
I grin and press send on the text. I adjust in my seat and lean my head back on the sleek, black leather sectional. “Just found my new girl.”
His brow furrows in confusion and then disbelief, but he’s quick to straighten out his face. He takes another sip and walks to the window to look out over the field. It’s Sunday, but there’s nothing going on today. Team’s on break, I take it. “Been a while for you, hasn’t it?”