“Tatum.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as Nitro’s voice washed over me. When I opened them again, I found him sitting on the stool next to me. “I’m not in the mood,” I said, weariness kicking in. I really wasn’t. The last thing I wanted to do was go another round with him.
“Not in the mood for what?”
I drank some of the rum that had been placed in front of me before saying, “For your bullshit.”
He didn’t respond straight away, but I did note the vein that pulsed in his temple. I drank some more rum and waited for him to speak. Finally, he said, “Renee told me you’ve been drinking all night.”
Frustration with him consumed me and I swivelled on my stool to fully face him. Ignoring the pain that shot through me as I did that, I snapped, “Am I not allowed to drink while being held hostage?”
That vein ticked again.
“You can drink as much as you want.”
“So why are you here then?”
He stared at me in silence for a long moment. Then, raking his fingers through his hair, he said, “If you’ve got something to say, say it. I’m not a mind reader.”
I drained my glass of rum and leaned closer to him, wobbling on the stool from all the alcohol I’d consumed. “Billy has always had my back and was one of the people who dragged me from hell after my brother was murdered. You might not get on with him, but I do, and I refuse to talk to you about him anymore, so if you’ve come here to ask me more about him, you can leave now.” The words rushed out and I was almost breathless by the time I got them all out. I gripped my empty glass hard as I acknowledged the tension I felt in his presence. I’d never had this kind of feeling around a man before. It was putting me off my game, causing my mind to short circuit.
He curled his hand around my wrist. “Anyone ever tell you how fucking sexy you are when you get all passionate about something?”
My gaze dropped to his hand. His touch fucked with my ability to concentrate even more than his presence already had. My lower belly was in a state of what-the-fuck-are-you-doing? My skin was in a state of holy-fucking-hell-let-him-touch-every-part-of-you and my vagina had pulled out the fucking welcome mat.
“Vegas,” he growled, and my eyes immediately shot back up to meet his.
“I don’t know why you insist on calling me that,” I muttered. Nicknames were for people you liked. I didn’t want him calling me that. We had no relationship other than the one where he made sure I survived and then we never saw each other again. I could ignore my desire for him if we could just get to the part where we went our separate ways.
“And I don’t know why you always argue about shit.”
“Because you make me!” I blurted it out and instantly regretted the outburst. It was so unlike me, and that right there was what Nitro did to me—he made me forget who I was now and what I needed to do to get through my days. He caused my mask to fall.
“How the hell do I make you argue with me?”
I snatched my arm from his hold and moved off the stool. Picking up my bag, I said, “I don’t know, you just do.”
He slid off his stool. “Where are you going?”
“To bed.”
“Yeah, where?”
It was then I remembered where I was and the fact I had no clue where I would sleep that night. As that realisation hit, I did something I never did. I burst into tears.
“Fuck,” I spluttered, madly wiping the tears from my face. Why the hell am I crying? I never fucking cry.
The harder I tried to stop crying, the harder I sobbed. It was all too much. The fact I was almost raped; Nitro and King dictating what I had to do; another club after me; a fucking bomb… it all overwhelmed me. And although I was damn good at not acknowledging when I felt like life was too hard, I struggled with that this time.
Nitro stared at me, his body stiffening as a look of complete bewilderment settled on his face. In amongst all the thoughts flying at me, I wondered if he’d ever seen a woman cry before because it sure as hell looked like he had no idea how to handle me.
And then he did something that took me by complete surprise. He moved close, put his arms around me and enveloped me in a hug. It was an awkward hug, but one nonetheless.
I rested my head against his chest. I was tired. So damn tired. Closing my eyes, I cried my exhaustion out. Nitro’s arms remained around me, like a reassuring blanket keeping me warm when all I felt was freezing cold.
I didn’t move when I stopped crying. I didn’t want to. And Nitro didn’t force me to. Instead, he said, “Come, I’ll show you where you can sleep.” With one arm still around my shoulder and my body pulled into his, he led me out of the bar. It didn’t escape my attention that while he held me firm, he did his best not to hurt my injuries.
His room was small. It contained a double bed, wardrobe, and chair, as well as a tiny bathroom. Totally like his house—minimal furniture, no personal items to be seen. Renee slept on the bed, and there was an inflatable double mattress on the floor.
Letting me go, he jerked his chin at the bed. “You sleep next to Renee.”
I looked up at him. “Where’s Dustin sleeping?”
“He’s in another room.”
I nodded. “Okay.” Moving to the empty side of the bed, I removed my boots and jeans before sliding under the sheets.
Nitro watched me and once I was settled, he left the room. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim me. The long day full of drama and the alcohol I’d consumed made sure of that.
* * *
“Mum!”
Where was she?
I ran to her bedroom to find her.
She wasn’t there.
I searched the whole house.
She was nowhere.
Tears fell down my cheeks as my body crumpled against the wall.
My heart raced in my chest.
She was always home. She never left us alone after school.
Chris entered the room, and I knew from his face and the way his shoulders hunched over a little that he didn’t have anything good to tell me.
“Mum’s gone,” he said, waving a piece of paper in the air, his eyes sad. “And she’s never coming back.”
My dream slammed into my consciousness and I sat up straight in bed, pain from my ribs spreading through my body like ripples across water. Sweat coated my forehead. My hair stuck to my neck in a clammy mess. Tears wet my cheeks.