Junkie (Broken Doll #1) Read online

  The clang of a tool hitting the ground was followed by a loud, but distinctly feminine curse. Christ. Definitely not Frank. With a sigh, I re-sheathed my knives, tugged down my sleeves to cover them, and followed the sound to the far end of the building.

  What I found when I turned the corner at the end of the row of cars was so surprising, it knocked the breath out of me. Unable to speak, I simply stood in place and allowed myself to enjoy the stunning sight, blinking to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  Miri—beautiful, frail, tiny Miri—was lying on the ground on her back while using a torque wrench on the chain of my classic Suzuki. Every reason I used to justify staying away from her vaporized and left me with nothing but raw, primal desire.

  Miri was makeup free, wearing a short, delicate dress that had hiked up to expose long, shapely legs. Pert nipples raised the thin fabric across her breasts and I knew she hadn’t bothered to wear a bra. Her pale skin contrasted with dark streaks of grease staining one thigh and both of her small hands. The smudges of dirt that would normally have me itching to shower, instead drew me closer.

  “Dammit!” Miri dropped the wrench and shook out her hand while cursing. She sat up and inspected the injured finger. From my vantage point, I noted a thin trickle of blood running down one side.

  “Need some help?”

  “Holy shit!” Miri’s arms flailed and she nearly fell backward. It made me laugh but Miri didn’t seem to find it very funny. The scowl she shot my way might have frightened a lesser man. Me? I fucking loved it. Miri was so damn sexy all fired up and pissed off, just like she was the night she slapped me and made my cock so hard I jerked off in record time.

  “Jesus, Boss. You surprised me.” Miri used her uninjured hand to clutch at her chest.

  I smirked at her breathless, husky voice and cocked my head. “I could say the same about you. What are you doing in here, doll?”

  Miri’s pale skin flushed, the gorgeous crimson spreading from the tips of her ears and down her neck to cover her collarbones. “I-I…” Miri’s eyes darted around as she fidgeted. Her finger was still bleeding and the tiny thing held it out to keep from dripping onto her innocent yet seductive, nearly transparent dress.

  “We’ll talk in a minute. Let’s clean you up first, okay?” I held out a hand.

  Gaze wary, Miri accepted my offer and put her good hand in mine. I pulled her to her feet and couldn’t help but run my lust-filled eyes over her body, devouring her from head to toe and every sexy-as-sin part in between.

  Fuck, Miri never looked as beautiful as she did right now, the little vixen—barefoot, streaks of grease on her chin and hands, cheeks flushed, brilliant red hair knotted on top of her head, and wearing one of the flimsiest dresses I had ever seen. Yes, it covered everything important, but the gauzy material was so lightweight, if you shone a light behind her, you would be able to see the outline of every curve of her body beneath the fabric. I didn’t even care that she transferred some of the grease from her hand to mine. My cock swelled in appreciation.

  No way could I be expected to resist this. Miri was pure temptation and I was a man who was born to sin.

  “Ummmm…” Miri shifted uncomfortably and extended her hand to prevent the blood from falling onto her dress.

  Shit. I was so caught up in fantasizing, I forgot about her injury.

  “The sink is over there.” I pointed to my left. “Go wash up and I’ll grab the first-aid kit.”

  My entire body was on fire, red-hot desire fanned into an inferno by not-so-innocent Miri. For fuck’s sake, the woman knew bikes. And not only that, she worked on them while wearing a sexy fucking see-through dress. How could I be expected to resist? The woman was a temptress, pushing every single one of my buttons at once. She would lead me right down the path to destruction. With my hands clenched at my sides and my jaw tight, I spun and stalked across the garage to the cabinet housing the medical supplies.

  Jesus Christ, Jag. Get a fucking hold of yourself before you do something stupid.

  Something like lift Miri onto one of the countertops, flip that short dress up, tear her panties off, and fuck her right here in the garage—hard, dirty, and fast. I groaned as my imagination ran wild with all of the possibilities. My thoughts were so goddamn filthy, I had to lean against the cabinet and imagine some of the most gory, horrific shit I’d seen and done just to get my cock down to half-mast. I breathed slowly through my nose and managed to grab the kit and walk back to Miri without growling and claiming her as mine. She was mine. My property. My fiery temptress. My broken doll.

  Those were the types of fantasies that dominated my mind lately. The fantasies I didn’t want to have yet loved every single second of them. Miri was all I could think about, and it was getting out of goddamn control to the point of obsessive. That was why I was avoiding her. I knew I had obsessive tendencies, but normally only toward clothes, organization, and cleanliness. I never obsessed over another human being. Well, if you don’t count getting revenge on the bastard who killed my sister. I was pretty obsessed with him at the time. Hell, I still haven’t let it go.

  Focus. Miri is bleeding.

  I blew out a long breath and approached Miri. She was propped against the sink, head down and biting on her lower lip as if she were a child caught doing something naughty and waiting for her punishment. I swallowed a groan. I’d be happy to spank that pale ass red if punishment was what she wanted. Fuck. Miri. Injury. Bleeding. After placing the kit on the counter and opening it, I gently took her hand and inspected her finger, ignoring my aching cock as it strained against tight denim.

  “The cut isn’t deep. A Band-Aid will do.”

  “Okay.” Miri’s voice was soft and wavering.

  I blinked in surprise and studied her posture. It was stiff and guarded, her breaths coming fast and shallow. Shit. Miri was afraid. Of me. She should be, of course. I was a very dangerous man who had done very terrible things. Things that would put me in jail for a long time if I were ever caught, and rightly so. Yet, the thought of frightening Miri, seeing her flinch when I came near, speared me right in the heart. I knew I deserved it after how I treated her, but it hurt just the same. With a tightness in my throat, I carefully spread a layer of antibiotic ointment and wrapped two bandages around the wound to make sure it would stay covered.

  “Boss?”

  Miri’s whisper broke me from my trance. I lifted my gaze from her finger to meet the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. I explored their depths, looking for something, anything to let me know Miri felt it too—the intense connection between us. Opposing magnets drawn together no matter how hard they tried to stay apart. I wanted her more than I’d wanted anything in my life, and I wasn’t used to denying myself.

  Her pink tongue swiped over full lips and molten heat rolled over my skin, the fire spreading from the top of my scalp to the soles of my feet. God, she was so fucking hot. A world away from the pale, filthy, trembling thing that landed on my doorstep a couple of months ago, and even then she was attractive. I was about to lean in and suck that teasing, velvety tongue into my mouth when I felt Miri tug away.

  “My hand, Boss. I need it.”

  I glanced down and realized I still had her injured hand trapped between both of mine.

  “Shit, sorry.” I released her and the skin on my neck burned with embarrassment. To put some necessary space between us, I stepped back. Distance was the only thing that would stop me from taking her.

  “A-are you mad at me?”

  My brow pulled low at the question. “Mad? What for, doll?” Miri dropped her head, once more biting on that damn lip.

  “Because…” Miri gestured toward the Suzuki, tools still strewn about. “I touched your bike.”

  Maybe I should have been mad. The Suzuki was a classic, and a rare one at that. Then I glanced at the mess and remembered how erotic of a picture she made lying beneath the motorcycle in that skimpy fucking dress. A strangled laugh escaped.

  “Hell no, I’m not mad.” When
my gaze fell back on Miri, another one of those goddamn waves of heat surged through my veins. “I have to tell you, it’s fucking sexy that you know bikes, doll. You never fail to surprise me.” My voice caught in my throat and came out as a scratchy rasp.

  The urge to touch her soft face, to taste her red lips, nearly broke my self-control. I had to divert my attention to something besides her tempting mouth. After a few deep, calming breaths, I asked Miri about the bikes.

  “How do you know all this?”

  She gave me a puzzled look. “All what?”

  I grinned and moved over to the Suzuki, crouching to inspect her work. “Motorcycles. It sure looks like you know what you’re doing, doll.” My eyes roved over the immaculately clean chain, and a surge of pride swelled in my chest. “I have to admit, I never would have expected this from a little thing like you.”

  Miri’s face darkened, that adorable chin jutted out, and she crossed her arms over her very distracting breasts. “Because I’m just a junkie whore, right? I couldn’t possibly be useful for anything else.”

  “What?” I stood, my mouth gaping at her very blunt, very inaccurate conclusion. “No. I’m sorry I gave you the impression that I saw you that way, Miri. It’s not true.”

  Miri didn’t respond, but she wouldn’t look at me either. I knew from the hurt on her face and the wet shine in her eyes, Miri was remembering the night I entertained my guests. Jesus, I did, in fact, treat her like a junkie whore. Fuck.

  “Doll, please, come here.” When Miri didn’t move, I asked again. “Please? I’m not a man who begs or apologizes, Miri, so keep in mind this is incredibly rare for me.” She huffed, but stepped over to the Suzuki and stopped an arm’s length away. “Tell me about this.” I pointed at the motorcycle and the tools on the ground. “How did you learn bike maintenance?”

  I lowered my body to sit on the carpet square and picked up the torque wrench. After a quick check to see how far Miri got, I continued to work on the chain she cleaned. Miri did such a good job it looked brand new. The chain lube was already next to the bike. She was thorough and well prepared, which appealed to my obsessive personality. When I reached for the lube, I heard a soft rustle and paused.

  I turned my head, surprised to find Miri kneeling next to me on the square of carpet, close enough for our arms to brush against one another. My body reacted instantly. The fire from earlier returned, a hot, unrelenting flare of desire pulsing in my groin. I smothered a moan and resisted the temptation to adjust my dick.

  Miri let out a sad sigh. “My dad worked at a garage. He began teaching me stuff when I was eight. When I left home, I worked as a mechanic for a couple years at a bike shop.”

  My jaw dropped. This girl never ceased to amaze me. She was a fucking bike mechanic? My brain immediately conjured up an image of Miri wearing filthy coveralls. The front zipped down to the waist to reveal a thin white tank top with of course, no bra. Perfect for showcasing those small, pert breasts and hard nipples. My cock woke right back up, not that it had ever lost interest. I didn’t know if it’d ever lose interest in Miri.

  “Your dad? He’s a mechanic?”

  “Was.” I held my tongue and gave Miri a chance to continue. “He died when I was fourteen.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever.” Miri’s tone made it clear the subject was off-limits.

  “Well,” I said as I handed the bottle of chain lube to her. “Show me what you can do, doll. Then maybe we can take a ride if you want.”

  For the first time in weeks, Miri smiled. The sight was so radiant my breath caught.

  Fuck, she’s stunning.

  Now that Miri was completely off the poisonous drugs and had gained some much needed weight, I finally saw the woman she was meant to be. Because I felt like a shithead for what I did to Miri at that party, I stopped doing her injections and had my men continue to administer them twice a day. Except now, there was only sterile saline in the syringe. I didn’t want Miri to know I had weaned her off the heroin. She might not be happy about having that decision made for her, especially by me. My men were instructed to prep the “dose” before Miri came into the kitchen. Otherwise, she’d know no powder was added to the spoon and it wasn’t being cooked.

  Without another word, Miri settled down beside me, plucked the chain lube out of my hand, and picked up where she’d left off. I could feel the excitement rolling off of her as she worked on the Suzuki.

  Watching this gorgeous, delicate girl get down and dirty working on my bike had me on the edge of coming in my pants. It was by far the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

  And I wanted more.

  8

  Miri

  “Let’s go for a ride, doll.”

  I stood at the sink with my back to Boss as I scrubbed the grease from beneath my nails. My shoulders instinctually tensed and I went on full alert just like I did whenever he was near. Usually, his voice turned my body to liquid, causing me to melt on the spot, but a big part of me was still wary of his intentions. Especially after Boss used me in front of his “business partners” only to turn around and make it quite clear the seduction was act and he would in no way sink to touching someone like me in private.

  I cleared my throat. “A r-ride?”

  There was a wall of heat at my back and I knew Boss had moved close behind me. Underneath the strong scent of gasoline and the pungent black grease on my hands, I could still smell him. And damn it, despite his shitty behavior, that intoxicating scent worked its way right under my skin and set my pulse racing.

  “Yeah, you know,” he breathed in my ear. Goose bumps broke out on the back of my neck and down my arms. “A ride. You, me, straddling a sleek piece of machinery, your thighs pressed up against my ass, your tits against my back, while we tear up the streets.”

  Large hands gripped my hips and I nearly bit my tongue in order to resist the urge to push my ass back and grind wantonly against his groin. I couldn’t let him get to me. My response was to calmly rinse my hands and wipe them off before turning to face the intimidating but gorgeous man. One who sent out more mixed signals than anyone I had ever met. I should be pissed at him, tell him to fuck off, but for some reason I was unable to say no.

  “Okay. We can go for a ride.” My acquiescence made Boss so happy his blue eyes lit up and his rare smile made my heart skip a beat. But I wasn’t letting him off so easy. “On one condition.”

  Boss’s grin faltered and the shine in his eyes became wary. “What condition?”

  In a bold move, braver than anything I had ever done—sneaking onto a drug lord’s property, climbing on Boss’s lap in the gazebo, slapping the dangerous man not once, but twice—I took a step forward, close enough for my nipples to brush against the thin fabric of his T-shirt. I forced down my nerves, raised a finger, and dragged it down the center of his chest to stop at the waistband of his jeans. Boss shuddered and I couldn’t hide my smirk.

  “Before I get on the bike, you have to tell me your name.”

  “My name?” Boss sounded both disappointed and surprised by my question. From the bulge in his jeans, he was hoping for something a little more… hands-on. I smirked at the realization that I affected him so strongly.

  “Yes, your name. I hate calling you Boss. It’s so… impersonal.” I moved closer, hooked my finger in his jeans, and rubbed my hard nipples on the rigid muscles of his upper abs. My thighs shook from the intensity of the bolt of electricity that shot from my breasts to my groin. I bit back the urge to rub up against the hard shaft in his pants. “I want to know your name. It’s not a lot to ask. I’ve been here for weeks and I still don’t know anything about you.”

  His mouth twisted into a frown. “You know plenty about me, doll. Enough to know I’m not a nice man.”

  With my free hand, I reached up and touched the side of his face. My fingers skimmed over the short, soft stubble on his cheeks. When I got to his mouth, I brushed my thumb across the smooth flesh, unable to stop from finding out if they wer
e still as soft and warm as I remembered from the gazebo.

  They weren’t. My memory didn’t do them justice. They were even softer.

  Boss groaned and the tip of his tongue flicked out to taste the pad of my thumb. “Fuck.” His tone was low and raspy. “You do things to me, Miri. Things I can’t allow myself to get caught up in.”

  Boss gently took my hand in his, removed it from his mouth, and lowered it to my side. Disappointment sliced deep, more painful than the night of the party and the gazebo combined. Boss rejected me again.

  When would I learn? The man didn’t want me. His body might, but he didn’t.

  Humiliated, I tugged for him to release my hand so I could run and hide in my room before the moisture filling my eyes gave me away. But Boss held tight.

  “Let go.” I pulled harder. The stubborn jerk didn’t budge. My eyes swam and I turned my head so he wouldn’t see me cry.

  Holding tight, Boss wrapped his other hand around mine, to clasp it between his two large hands. Cheeks on fire, I chanced a peek at this enigma of a man. With a small smile, he lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss on my knuckles, then brushed the short, soft hairs on his chin over the tingling skin.

  Boss leaned in. I lifted onto my toes to meet him in the middle as he whispered a single word in my ear.

  “Jag.”

  I dropped back on my heels, my brow pulled together. “I don’t understand.”

  Boss huffed out a dry laugh and stared at his scuffed biker boots, the only thing I’d seen him wear that wasn’t’ shiny and new. “My name. It’s Jag. Mick Jagger Bosman, if you can believe it. My mom had a thing for rock stars.”