“You will go to your apartment and to this facility. That’s it.”
I looked at him incredulously. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s part of the arrangement.” He put his hands in his pockets, oh so casually.
I glanced at my brother. His face gave nothing away, and he remained silent.
“Not as far as I’m concerned.”
“If the alternative’s what you prefer . . .” Dad shrugged as if indifferent.
“Mama didn’t say that was part of the deal—”
“It isn’t your mother’s stipulation.”
I kicked out my foot. “Do I get an ankle monitor too?”
His eyes turned cold. “The choice is yours.”
“I’m not wearing a goddamned ankle monitor,” I shouted, garnering the attention of several ladies.
“I meant whether you serve here or in a prison.”
I might have only heard what I wanted to, but I swore he almost choked out the word prison.
“I can’t stay confined to that apartment. I have things to do—” Jesus, who was going to run things at the office? I could work online as I’d been doing, but I had to make an occasional appearance.
“You’ve done enough.”
“Drew, there’s an issue with the downstairs toilet. It’s about to overflow.” Mrs. Quinn rushed to where we stood in the dining room.
“Lead the way,” I said, following her as she hurried back in the direction she’d just come from. I walked backward and stared at my father and brother. “You can’t enforce a house arrest.”
I’d decided I didn’t care if the residents overheard. What did it matter now? They probably already realized I wasn’t here by choice.
I turned around before they could respond.
* * *
I hadn’t dressed the part because this morning I hadn’t been totally sure I would do as my mother asked. Toilet water splashed onto my custom-tailored suit as I plunged. So maybe I was a little overzealous, taking out my frustration on the wooden stick with rubber on the end. After a few more plunges, I flushed. Down the massive wad of toilet paper went.
I flushed again just to make sure it was back to normal.
Fixed.
I wiped my hands down my suit pants and winced when I felt the damp splatters. Ugh. Once I washed my hands, I returned the plunger to the janitorial closet.
I needed a cigarette.
It was after four o’clock, and I’d had enough, but dinner wasn’t for another two hours. No one said I could take a break, but no one had said I couldn’t either.
I pushed out of a back entrance that opened into an alley and shimmied a rock between the door and the frame so I wouldn’t be locked out. It was cold as shit, but the cool air was welcome. I tapped out a cigarette, shoved it between my lips, and bent my head to light up. One drag and I calmed only marginally. Something stronger would be necessary to ease my nerves. I dropped the lighter back in my pocket, left my hand in it for warmth, and blew out a stream of smoke.
Leaning against the brick wall, I bent a knee and propped one foot against it. I just wanted this day to be over. Why not just go? There’s no one to stop me.
Two cameras were directed at the back entrance. Two pointed in opposite directions down the alley. A fingerprint reader was on the wall next to the door. What did this place need all the high-tech security for? Especially if they were going to let someone like me just waltz inside.
Wonder if Mrs. Quinn is watching me? How soon would I be locked up if I bailed on the shelter?
The door burst open, and I shot out an arm to stop it from smacking me in the face. “Watch it, sugar,” I said harshly. Being nice wasn’t on my list of requirements. I’d grin and bear it inside, but out here, I’d do what I liked.
Blue eyes flashed, and dark curls framed a bruised face. “Call me sugar again, and I’ll knee you in the balls.”
“Knee me in the balls, and I’ll take my belt off and whip your sweet little ass with it, sugar.” I hadn’t seen her ass yet, but with those curves and perky tits, I could only imagine it would be cush. Heat flared in her angry eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I pushed off the wall, wanting to back her up against the door. But then I paused. A skinny mutt bared his teeth at me and growled. “What the hell is that?”
“Nice. Threatening to beat a woman at a shelter for the abused. And her dog.”
I was a bastard. Didn’t give a fuck. Something about this woman said she didn’t take abuse from anybody, despite the shiner. This was no helpless, meek little lady. Hell, she wasn’t a lady at all. I’d seen the women here, and she wasn’t like them.
I narrowed my gaze on her and inched forward, catching her knee as she discreetly lifted it to do exactly as she’d threatened. I longed to wrap that long leg around my waist and press her into the wall. Getting physical with a woman who hadn’t given all the signals she wanted it wasn’t my style, but I wasn’t thinking with my head, just reacting, the most real moment I’d experienced in a long, long time.
I leaned in close enough to catch the scent of spearmint on her breath. She kept her expression neutral, but interest flickered in her eyes. Her tongue darted between her lips and disappeared so quickly I thought I’d imagined it. The move went straight to my groin.
I wanted that tongue. I wanted her mouth. Instead of acting on what my dick was demanding I do, I dropped her leg. She stumbled and reached out, grabbing my arm to steady herself. Surprise registered on her face before sheer hatred took its place.
“You do want it.” There was a hint of wonder in my voice I regretted letting escape. I had a tigress against the wall, claws out and ready to fight. God, I wanted to tame that wildness. Then again, maybe I didn’t.
The dog released a shrill bark. He might be a bag of bones, but he had fight. I took out one of the cinnamon-coated dried apple pieces from the bag I kept in my pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it and swallowed it whole.
“What happens if I tell Mrs. Quinn about your unwanted sexual advances and threats of violence? Just how much trouble would you be in?” she taunted as if I hadn’t just fed her starving dog.
“Tell her whatever you want.” I took a drag off my cigarette and blew it in her face. She inhaled like an ex-smoker who hadn’t wanted to quit. “Want a drag?”
Her eyes drifted hungrily to the cigarette glowing between my fingers. The tigress wanted a puff. “No,” she finally said, glaring.
“You sure?” Her breath hitched as she hesitated. “How long has it been, sugar?” I inhaled dramatically, teasing her.
“Fucking Parliament Lights,” she muttered, turning her head away.
Her cigarette of choice.
“Do we already have something in common?” I goaded, and those eyes jerked back to mine, furious. I had to suppress a smile. Riling up this tigress was far more fun than screwing with my family.
“Don’t insult me,” she scoffed, lifting her chin.
“How’d you get the black eye?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“That’s not news. Now what happened? Boyfriend? Cat fight?” I took another drag, and she held her breath. Another possibility came to mind. “Did you do that to yourself, sugar? Have somebody hit you on purpose?”