Junkie (Broken Doll #1) Read online

  Now to deal with security, or rather, lack of. The thought of someone so easily breaching my perimeter had me grinding my teeth. I tapped out a quick text to Burke for him to meet me in the garage and wiped all emotion off my face.

  No more reminiscing. No more feelings. It was time to be Boss again.

  Miri

  When I woke in a big, soft, clean bed and took in my surroundings, the events from last night flooded back at once. Gasping, I sat up too fast and immediately regretted it. With a groan, I fell back on the plush pillow, closed my eyes, and pressed my hands to my throbbing temples, swallowing down a flood of nausea.

  Did I really come to Mason’s boss’s house to beg for a hit of H? The house of the most feared and ruthless drug lord in Austin? One who threatened my life more than once, then locked me up like a criminal, with the Boss being the judge, jury, and if he so desired, my executioner?

  Yes. Yes I did.

  I threw off the covers and sat up slower this time. Because I still didn’t believe last night wasn’t a dream, I inspected my left foot. The evidence was right there, in the form of a small red pinprick where the H was injected. So many questions assailed my mind at once. Why would Boss help me? Why did he wash me instead of delegating it to some flunky? Why didn’t he demand sex like every other asshole I’ve met?

  With no answers forthcoming anytime soon, I took a deep breath and got up to use the attached bath. Just like every day over the last several months, I purposefully avoided the mirror, afraid to see what I’d become. It was easier to remember how I looked before I ran away from home and even during the two and a half years before Cat vanished. I had been beautiful once, with a bright smile and healthy skin, my copper colored hair clean and well kept. I had no desire to see the pathetic, strung-out junkie I’d become.

  That line of thinking always brought me to Cat. It had been six months since my best friend went missing. Six months since I last heard her laugh or saw her smile. Three years ago, it was my idea for the two of us to run away, though I only suggested it because I knew how much Cat was suffering at the hands of her stepfather. When she confided in me how he raped her nearly every night, her mother doing absolutely nothing to stop it from happening, I had to get her out of there.

  Small and petite, like Cat, her Mexican mother was a tiny thing, just over five feet tall, very traditional with regards to a woman’s place in the home, and no match physically for Cat’s enormous brute of a stepfather. After years of beatings from my own mother, when Cat began to hint around at taking drastic measures like suicide, I decided it was better for both of us to get the hell out of our rural Texas town.

  How wrong and stupid I was. We did okay for a couple years. Both of us had jobs that paid for food and a place of our own, but the fond memories weren’t enough to soothe the hollow ache in my heart from the loss of my best friend.

  I wrapped my too skinny arms around my waist and clutched the oversized T-shirt I found on the bed tight around my body. After that bizarre shower with one of the most feared men in Austin, I was shaken to the core. Boss didn’t seem very scary all wet and soapy and smiling, but when his voice went low and he held me in his tight grip while scolding me for mouthing off, yeah, I saw exactly how downright fucking terrifying he could be. The man was intimidating. And intriguing. And gorgeous.

  Ugh. I rubbed my bleary eyes with the heels of my hands. I needed to stop thinking about Boss as attractive. He was a controlling, vicious asshole. Besides, my skin was beginning to itch and I could feel the agitation creeping up. Time for another hit, if he’d give me one. I searched the room for something to wear besides the huge black tee and baggy plaid boxer shorts left on the bed and came up empty. The boxers were so big, I had to fold them over three times to keep them from falling down. It wasn’t as though I particularly cared what I wore or how I looked. Hell, Boss saw me completely naked last night. But whereas last night I had no problem standing up to the jerk, for some reason, this morning I felt vulnerable.

  The desperation for a fix obviously made me beyond reckless last night, and the bright light of morning had me regretting my actions big-time. I padded to the bedroom door and remembered how it shut behind me with a loud click. Locked up in a gilded cage. Was it still locked?

  I sucked in a deep breath and pushed on the bedroom door. Yep. Locked. I exhaled and sat on a small armchair tucked in the corner of the room. While I wondered what would happen next and how long I could go before withdrawals hit, I heard voices getting closer.

  Male voices.

  “What’s your plan then, Boss? Continue to shoot up some junkie chick while she treats your house like a hooker crash pad?” I didn’t recognize the deep, angry growl, but it vibrated to my marrow and sent chills across my skin. Not the good kind of chills.

  “Milo, butt out of my business and do your goddamn job, which, by the way, is to do whatever the fuck I say.”

  That voice I recognized. The man from the shower. The one with no name who they called Boss. Or as Mason used to say, Boss Man. Clearly, the men were arguing over me. I knew I was the “junkie” being referenced. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, but this was the first time the slur actually hurt. Boss spoke again and this time, he was truly pissed.

  “Make sure my bathroom is sterilized again, then get your ass over to security and find a replacement for Burke. Whichever of his men you feel is best suited.” There was a pause before Boss continued. “The girl is not to leave the premises under any circumstances, and I don’t want a repeat of last night. Make it known what the consequences will be if security fails again. Use Burke as an example, got it, Milo?”

  “Yeah, Boss. Got it.” I heard the angry man’s heavy footfalls fade then come to an abrupt stop. “You sure you don’t want me here when you deal with—”

  “Goddammit, Milo. Get the fuck out of here before you regret it and I have to get all fucking dirty, which you know irritates the fuck out of me.” Boss snarled at the other man.

  His angry threat should have frightened me, especially when combined with Boss’s clear intent on keeping me locked up like a prisoner—and now the sound was coming from right outside the bedroom door. But instead of being alarmed, the smooth sound of his voice sent another chill across my skin. This time, it was the good kind of chill, the kind that pulled a shudder from deep down while simultaneously heating my insides. What, exactly, did that say about me?

  Who gets turned on by threats of violence and unlawful imprisonment at the hands of a criminal who treats me as something less than human?

  “Okay, Boss.” Boots thumped down the hall and I heard a door open and close.

  The only warning I had was the click of a lock before the knob turned. I shut my eyes, bracing myself to come face-to-face with Boss for the first time since that humiliating shower, subsequent captivity, and multiple threats on my life. Despite the oppressive fear and my irrational attraction to the man, I forced my body to remain unmoving on the chair while waiting to find out my fate.

  The door swung open, and my eyes opened, immediately landing on him. Boss had yet to notice me, so I took a moment to really study the man. His strong, commanding presence was undeniable, the sharp angles of his profile intimidating. Faced with him again, I remembered how tall, how large Boss was. At least a few inches over six feet, maybe more.

  I felt more than saw his gaze land on me. My skin pricked and my stomach twisted with nerves.

  “Come with me.” He turned and left, confident I would follow. And I did.

  We descended a grand staircase to a marble foyer. Barefoot, I hurried down a wide hall lined with expensive artwork and decorations, struggling to keep up with Boss’s long strides. The hall ended in the enormous kitchen.

  Shaking, I stood and fidgeted, waiting.

  Boss was fiddling with something on the table, his back to me. It gave me a perfect view of the broad set of his shoulders, muscles bulging under a snug fitting, pressed white dress shirt that probably cost more than every singl
e one of my paychecks from last year combined.

  My eyes trailed down the flexing muscles in his back to his tapered waist, lingering on the way his undoubtedly expensive, navy blue dress pants hugged his tight round ass. Despite the danger I was in, the inherent fear the man brought out in others, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his perfect body, lean with large, well-defined muscles. Muscles I viewed up-close and personal while wet and slick.

  “See something you like?”

  I blinked and found Boss staring at me with his piercing blue eyes, that damn crooked smirk on his handsome face. My skin blazed from being caught ogling the man’s ass in his own kitchen.

  “I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do or… if… if I should go.” I pretended to forget that Boss said leaving wasn’t an option and kept my eyes on the ground, focused on my bare feet to lessen the weight of his heavy stare. “I don’t have a car… or, or money…” The weight of humiliation pressed down on me. God, I looked so stupid, standing in this immense palace, in front of this powerful man, wearing ill-fitting clothes with track marks up my arms. I was broke, hooked on H, intruding on his home, and now standing in his kitchen asking for… for what?

  I don’t have a clue what I’m asking for.

  “Sit, Miri.” Boss wrapped his big hands around a kitchen chair and pulled it out, angling it in my direction. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, unable to move or even breathe. My feet were glued to the floor. Boss reached out and put one of those warm, rough hands around my wrist, easily encircling it with room to spare, and tugged me forward. “Sit down. If you behave, this time, I won’t tie you up.”

  His tone was gravelly and I knew for a fact he wasn’t joking about tying me up. To be honest, Boss had a hint of amusement in his voice that implied he would enjoy it very much if I flat-out disobeyed.

  Screw that. No way was I giving him the satisfaction.

  When I sat, I took a chance and glanced at him, unsure what I would find on the man’s face, especially after last night. Would there be anger, annoyance, pity, disgust? Shockingly, there was none of the above. Boss was… smiling?

  He turned to lean a hip on the table, his face deceptively patient and kind looking. The skin around his beautiful eyes crinkled with mirth and his lips pressed together as if holding back a grin. Inexplicably, I felt my own lips tug up in response to the gorgeous and unexpected sight.

  This man just keeps on surprising me.

  Then my eyes dropped to the contents laid out on the table and my hesitant smile fell. On a long exhale, a single word escaped. “Oh.”

  Spread across the polished wood surface of the table was the same kit from yesterday—syringe, tiny packet of white powder, lighter, spoon, and tourniquet. My eyes flicked back and forth between the kit and the intensity of Boss’s gaze staring down at me.

  I squirmed in the chair. “I-I don’t understand. You’re… you’re what? Going to keep giving me drugs?” At this point, I was way past being frightened and had gone straight to completely confused. I nervously twirled a piece of hair around a finger while chewing on my bottom lip, unable to figure out what this man expected in return for the H. “W-why? Why would you do this? I’m no one. Nothing. You don’t even know me.”

  What does he want? Nothing comes without strings attached. Nothing.

  The sad look in his eyes surprised me. The same time Boss appeared to show a smidge of compassion, his mouth and jaw tightened.

  “You’re not nothing,” he hissed, so vehemently I flinched. Boss closed his eyes and breathed deep, as if he needed a moment to hold himself back from reaching out and strangling me. Those brilliant blues opened again, trapping me with their intensity. “Besides, you can’t stop cold turkey, doll. You’ll end up incredibly sick.” His gaze bore down on me as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, pulling his shirt taut across his wide shoulders. “I’m afraid you’re not leaving the property until I find out how you got here and what your intentions are. It’s not every day someone has the audacity to show up at my house…” He put his hands on the arms of the chair, trapping me, his body surrounding me, and leaned down, close enough to smell his aftershave combined with that fragrant green body wash. Close enough for me to pick out every single individual shade of blue in his irises. “It’s even more rare for them to live to tell about it. That’s what worries me, doll. I can’t have you running to the police with any information now, can I?”

  I gulped and sucked in a breath. “What about my… my, um, boyfriend?” The word left a bad taste in my mouth, but I didn’t know how else to refer to Mason without over-explaining myself. Yeah, my drug supplier? The guy who fucks me? No way. So boyfriend it was.

  “You have a boyfriend, doll?” Boss straightened, pulling away and taking that wonderful scent with him. His countenance was neutral and gave no hint as to what the man was thinking. Boss tugged on each of his crisp cuffs, fiddling with and straightening them to the point I wanted to scream.

  Anxiety plucked at every nerve in my body. Each one tightly wound, vibrating in turn, and sending out wave after wave of stress like concentric ripples on water. I scratched at my arms, the itching returning with a vengeance at the thought of getting my next fix.

  “Mason, well, he’s not really my b-boyfriend. I mean, I live—no, lived with him but…” My hand went to my hair and I grabbed a loose tendril, twirling and pulling furiously. “He’s… I-I don’t know what he is. He… he gives me H.” My shoulders sagged in defeat, unable to describe the complicated situation clearly.

  “I see.” Boss remained unaffected by my confession.

  “Mason was s-supposed to be here. At your house. That’s why I came. Is he? Here, that is?”

  My heart throbbed painfully against my ribcage as I questioned a man most people were too afraid to speak to, let alone look him in the eye and ask for answers. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t heard the stories, the rumors of Boss’s ruthlessness. Mason told me plenty. Said the guy rose through the ranks of the organization, starting as a lowly runner at a very young age, doing that for years. Once he worked his way to petty dealer, Boss fought and clawed his way to top of the chain all in less than five years.

  The way I heard it, from others, not just Mason, Boss took down his mentor and predecessor, along with all of the men loyal to him, in a gruesome bloodbath. Going by the nature of the threats he’d laid on me, both subtle and direct, I believed every word of it. If I were to go solely by the expression on the handsome face of the man standing in front of me, I would laugh at the thought of Boss doing anything violent. He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, a strong jawline covered in that gorgeous dark stubble, full lips with perfect teeth, and was watching me intently, without judgment, without hostility. It was almost as if he were a dream, conjured up to rescue me from the hell I’d been living in.

  Then Boss frowned, his brow pulled low, and the mirage shattered.

  “I have to tell you, Miri. I find it quite upsetting that you not only knew Mason had a meeting with me, but where my house was located. Information that someone like you shouldn’t be privy to. In any case, the answer to your question is no. No one named Mason is here.” Boss offered no further information.

  Someone like me. A junkie. A whore. Less than human.

  “Oh.”

  My one-word response pulled a strange reaction from the tough man. That damn eyebrow of his arched up in surprise. “Does that upset you?”

  I wanted to say, Fuck you, you crazy asshole, but managed to hold my tongue. Instead, I thought about Boss’s question about Mason being my boyfriend. About Mason not being here when I was told he was. I knew what that meant. I wasn’t an idiot. Boss had Mason killed and strangely, it didn’t bother me all that much. Mason gave me a roof over my head and H, but he was in no way my boyfriend and I didn’t care for him. I knew Mason got me hooked on drugs with the singular purpose of keeping me indebted to him. The heroin kept me a prisoner, and Mason used me for sex on his whim whenever and however he wanted.

&
nbsp; Once Cat vanished, despite my decent job, Austin was expensive and I couldn’t afford our apartment by myself. I was tossed out on the street with no belongings and nowhere to go. When I met Mason and he offered a place to crash, I jumped on the opportunity. He easily manipulated me and the drugs took their deep, dark hold, sinking their sharp claws into the darkest depths of my soul. Soon after, I lost my job and my income and my dependence on Mason was complete.

  Was I afraid of what Boss might do to me for trespassing, for clearly knowing things I shouldn’t? Hell, yes. I prayed Boss thought my full-body shakes were solely from my need for drugs and not the overwhelming sense of terror. I kept my chin up and refused to give his controlling ass the satisfaction of knowing he scared the shit out of me.

  “No. It doesn’t upset me.”

  Boss nodded as if I gave the answer he expected. “Put your leg out, Miri.”

  Trembling, I bent over, trying not to brush against the man who was standing so close, only inches separated us. I despised showing Boss my weaknesses, and my addiction was by far my biggest one. Somehow, doing this was way, way more personal than stripping down naked in the shower.

  Baring your dirtiest, darkest secrets was always more difficult than baring your skin. Baring them to Boss made me feel ashamed and pathetic. I didn’t want him to see me that way. But then, that’s exactly what I became when Cat disappeared, a weak, pathetic, desperate junkie.

  When Boss finally took his eyes off of me and turned to cook the H, I used the back of my hand to wipe away the moisture building in my eyes. My knee bounced up and down as I waited for my dose. I struggled to control my twitching muscles, the urge to scratch every inch of my skin and scream for Boss to hurry the fuck up before I shoved him out of the way and grabbed the drugs to do it myself.