Junkie (Broken Doll #1) (6 page)

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 single 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.

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.

Come on, Miri. You’ve been through so much more than this. You are strong. You’ve been to hell and back more times than you can remember.

By the time Boss had everything ready and began to wrap the length of rubber tubing around my leg, I had my emotions under control… for the most part. It was my body that betrayed me. I was sweaty, trembling, and curled halfway over my lap as my stomach twisted in pain. If Boss noticed, he didn’t say a word. After tying the tourniquet, his eyes—so unbelievably blue they had to be contact lenses—met mine.

In an unexpectedly tender gesture, Boss’s hand lightly caressed my knee. My eyes zeroed right in on his long fingers rubbing on my bare skin.

“It’ll be okay, doll.”

His misplaced sympathy had the tears burning ruthlessly against the backs of my eyes, dangerously close to overflowing. I was about to split completely open and fall apart in front of this powerful man. I chanced a peek down at his face and the dam nearly broke. Boss was gazing up at me from his position crouched at my feet, with genuine concern. My pulse skittered from the significance in that single look.

How long has it been since anyone gave a shit or looked at me like that? Anyone besides Cat?

My stomach fluttered with something other than the usual knives of pain from withdrawal and my heart leapt. I sniffed and nodded to let Boss know I was ready, then turned away so he wouldn’t see me cry. Cool alcohol tingled on my skin right before the sharp prick of the needle. A tear trickled down my face as the glorious heat entered my bloodstream. The drugs pumped quickly through my body, and brought with them an instant calm, a gentle buzzing from my toes all the way to the top of my skull. My head lolled back as I reveled in the sensation, yet the tears still flowed. No, I wasn’t high. I didn’t get euphoric from H anymore. That benefit disappeared after a month or so of using. After the highs were gone for good, the drug became a necessity just to feel
normal
, whatever the hell that is. Right now, I felt far from normal.

“Miri.”

“Hmmmm?”

A soft cloth wiped my cheeks. A few minutes later, I vaguely registered the sounds of Boss packing the kit and disposing of the garbage. By the time he finished, my system had accepted the drugs and I was feeling more or less awake and alert—as alert as one could be while nodding on H.

“Miri.” The voice was louder, more forceful. Startled and a little jumpy, I flinched.

“I’m here,” I whispered.

A heavy hand squeezed my shoulder. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

“What?” I squinted at the beautiful man with the tired eyes.

He doesn’t look scary today. He looks sad. The man’s moods are up and down, kind versus terror inducing, smiling versus scowling.

I had to suppress a giggle at my wandering thoughts.

Boss pointed at the table. I turned my heavy head and my mouth fell open. In place of the zippered kit was a plate of buttered toast and a bowl of fresh fruit.

“Y-you, you made this for
me
?”

Boss took the chair next to mine and winked. He gave me a wide grin before taking a bite of his own toast. After washing it down with hot coffee, Boss met my curious gaze.

“I don’t cook often, doll. As in never. So instead of burnin’ down the house by attempting to make real food, I toasted a few pieces of bread and scooped fruit out of one bowl into another. But if you want to say I made breakfast, I won’t stop you.” He pointed at my plate with his fork, gave me another wink, and the confusing man continued eating.

I was flabbergasted. How long had it been since someone,
anyone
, did something for me
just because
? Something nice? And for the gesture to come from this drug kingpin, a man whose very name put the fear of god into thugs and dealers throughout the city, was mind-boggling.

Even though I wasn’t hungry, I didn’t want to upset Boss or ruin the light mood by rejecting his thoughtfulness. Since my stomach had stopped cramping after getting my dose, I breathed through my mouth and managed to nibble at the corner of a piece of lightly buttered toast. Before I knew it, my plate was clean.