Motown Breakdown (Motown Down #4) (39 page)

“Here’s the thing about rules,” I say pushing away from the bar to face her. The skank was five inches shorter than me in heels. But a skank was a skank, I didn’t discriminate. “Like your wrists, they were made to be broken.”

Just then Shade takes up residence behind me and warns her off. “If you value your life, Cherry, you will walk away.”
Cherry, of course it is…

Moving away from me, she runs her hands up his chest and fucking purrs. “Or what Shade?” she smiles looking back at me. “She doesn’t look like she minds sharing. If you’d like, she could watch.”

“Cherry,” I warn. “Take your hands off of my man before you lose them.”

“Sun,” he warns.

Just then a man joins the party looking at me like I’m heroin. For fuck’s sake, these people had issues. “Cherry likes you,” he says to Shade. “You can have her,” he says waving his hand. “Because I want to play with
her
.”

“Touch her and pay,” he growls.

“Relax, Shade,” he says grabbing me despite his warning. “I won’t hurt her,” he smiles. “Much.”

The scene played out in slow motion: Cherry has her hands on Shade, this pig had his hands on me and when she grabbed his face and kissed him all hell broke loose when I took the bitch to the floor with a shriek of fury.
 

The problem with drugs is that it makes stupid people even more aggravating. I warned Ridge in the hall to stay away from her, that she belonged to me but for some reason he forgot the lesson between there and here. Cherry was an annoyance, always has been and Sun was ready to kill her. Not that I could blame her, the woman needed to be put down. Marco sold her years ago and she’s been passed around like the God damn flu ever since.

Neutral ground went out the window when we stepped through those doors. How I handled this with Ridge and Cherry would determine who would consider Sun fair game in the future. No one touched her, ever. Cherry wasn’t an issue I wanted to focus on at the moment. Ridge not only grabbed her, but he intended to hurt her and not heed my warning. She looked more concerned about Cherry than the man holding her but when Cherry kissed me, Sun’s eyes darkened and I had a feeling we wouldn’t be invited to future events after this.

Fine by me
, I thought.

Without warning, Sun broke free of Ridge and ripped Cherry away from me taking her to the floor. Each punch was calculated and the crowd was moving in to savor the bloodshed.
Moths to a flame…
Ridge watched her with pure lust so I attacked him. While I beat him, she beat her and I only paused to say, “Your breast is out, Sun.”

“Oh,” she says looking down and tucking it back in but never missing a beat.
She was truly my equal…

Focusing on Ridge, he wipes his mouth and laughs. “I’m going to fuck her, Shade. Now I’m just going to make sure she doesn’t wake up afterwards.” With a rage unlike anything I’ve ever known, I snapped his neck in front of a hundred of Metropolitan Detroit’s most notorious criminals. Did I care about that? No.

No one was more notorious than I was and no one was taking what was mine by right either. With a thump, Sun let’s Cherry’s head hit the floor and takes my side in a show of unity. The crowd was in a tizzy, foaming over the violence and wanting more. Taking her hand, she folds into me and says, “You broke his neck?”

“He touched you,” I point out.

“No, I know,” she says looking over at Cherry limp on the floor. “I’m just saying, if I knew we were playing by prison rules, I’d have done things differently.”

Don’t fucking laugh…

Turning to face the crowd, I make my intentions clear. “Anyone who touches her or attempts to touch her is my enemy. These two learned a valuable lesson tonight,” I boom while searching for any threats and only seeing one. “Would anyone else like an example of my wrath before I take my woman and leave?” When no one responded, I did exactly that. There would be fallout when it came to Ridge and it was nothing I couldn’t handle. Nobody gave a fuck about Cherry but they would always remember Sun beating her in an evening gown.

I know I would…

Once we were back at home, she kicked her heels off and limped to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. Uncaring that she had blood on her hands and dress, she opened the bottle pouring each of us a glass. Loosening my tie, I join her wondering what was on her mind. When her eyes locked on me I decided I didn’t want her in heavy makeup after this. She was too beautiful to alter for any reason.

“Is it always like this for you?” she asks letting her hair down.

“In my world it’s kill now or be killed later,” I admit. “Always has been, always will be.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I’m used to it, but the better question is do you mind?”

“I haven’t let my guard down since first grade,” she says unzipping the dress so she can lean forward. “It’s not that I mind, I just worry for you when I’m not here anymore.”
She worries for me…

“You worry for me, do you?”

“Admit it,” she smiles. “I’m one hell of a sidekick, when I’m gone who will watch your back?”

“What if you never leave?” I ask coming to stand behind her. Pushing her hair to one side and leaning, I continue. “What if I won’t let you?”

“You wouldn’t take my choice away,” she says exposing her neck. “Would you?”

“To keep you, absolutely.”

“Even if I want to leave?”

“Even then,” I saw no reason to lie to her. “However, our time isn’t up yet and I was hoping to convince you to stay because you wanted to.”

“What do
you
want?” she asks turning in her chair to face me.
For you to want me like I want you…
Pulling her up she rests her head on my chest allowing me to play with her hair.

“To make you so happy the thought of leaving me devastates you.” When a puff of air leaves her mouth I take it, breathe it deep just before I steal her tongue.

Her tongue she gave easily, willingly.

Now I just needed her heart.

17 days…

My muse has been low key, quietly piecing ideas together and sharing them with me instead of screaming in my brain to get off my ass and write. For the first time in memory, I don’t feel compelled to sit at my computer for hours careful not to lose my train of thought. I chalked it up to enjoying reality more than fiction for a change. The story; my story, our story was happening in real time and I wasn’t going to forget it.

For now, I was just going to enjoy it.

Feelings were something I wrote about rarely experiencing it for myself. Honestly, until Shade, I never had to. Men came, lied, and went; that was all there was to it. Some were more tolerable than others, but a lie was a lie and not something I could get over.

Dating was also exhausting.

Writing about dating was so much easier because I was in control of it. I had no control over this. Were we even dating? Does killing people count as an outing? Somehow, I doubted it. As much as I wanted to believe he wanted me forever, I was fairly certain he only claimed to because of our arrangement. Thirty days, that’s all it was supposed to be for both of us. Shade wouldn’t be easy to walk away from, but staying wouldn’t be easy either. His lifestyle, career choice, and even the danger it presented didn’t bother me.

What bothered me was whatever was holding him back.

Asking him about it hadn’t crossed my mind until last night. But now as I lie here alone, I decided not to ask at all for fear of the answer. A woman came before me, I could feel it and there were times I felt like her replacement. Which led me to wonder, if I left would another woman show up and replace me? Then there were times like last night, when he went nuclear over another man touching me that I thought maybe I was misreading the situation. Shade runs in two temperatures; hot and frozen.

I didn’t want to get burned but I also didn’t want to freeze to death. Although, lukewarm (which is where I was) wasn’t my idea of a good time either.

Being indecisive sucked.

All these years of mildly suppressing my temper only to let it get the best of me now left me feeling off balance.  At some point the newness would wear off, my quirky charm would start to annoy him, and the death count would be catastrophic. What happens after we’ve killed everyone? (not that we would, I’
m just spit balling)

Clearly we both have issues with jealousy, but in time would it get better or worse? This kind of madness wears off right? I wasn’t sure… That’s why I was so messed up. Because the more time I spent with him, the more territorial I became. Each one of my foster families made it clear I wasn’t normal.

I became violent easily.

Refused to share.

I trusted no one.

And then after shutting the world out, I retreated inside of myself using writing as an outlet. All my life no one had ever ‘got me
’ until he did. Someone like me wouldn’t let that go without a fight.  Grabbing my phone, I open up my email and see a shit ton of comments from my YouTube video. Most were hilarious as they typically were but there was one that was anything but funny. The one that said:

I know that car, the owner and the driver. When we meet again I will bask in the Sunshine, not in the Shade.

Clicking the user profile, it told me nothing other than he was a male in Detroit.
He knows me…
It was obvious by capitalizing my name.
He knows Shade too…
Shit.

Flying out of bed, I forget the robe or even rinsing my mouth before running from the house to the office only to find it empty. Running back, I dress quickly and hit the door to search the grounds. His men were hidden, it was their job to be, but I needed to find Shade like yesterday. Calling him went to voicemail, sending a text, I wait and wait getting no response either. Heading to the garage, I was about to grab the keys and take the Shelby out to find him when Razor stopped me.

“He ain’t here,” he says from a distance. “Business.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“No.”

Not wanting him to get in trouble, I turn away and so does he. But I heard him when he said; “He’s handling the fallout from last night, now get back inside.”
Grr…
doing as he says I go back inside and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

When Shade finally comes home (well, his home anyway) he wasn’t happy. In fact, he was, dare I say, brooding? Once I was spotted, he lunged for me and he held on tighter than he ever has before.

“We don’t have long,” he says pulling me toward the bedroom. “Dress down. Jeans, t-shirt, tennis shoes. Pull your hair up and out of the way. Don’t just stand there, Sun, move!” Kicking my ass into gear I grab my things dressing as quickly as possible. Another time, I’d stop and gawk at Shade in casual clothing, but clearly that wasn’t today. Both of us were dressed but neither spoke. Shade looked tormented, as if he was beating himself up with guilt and I swear to God, I even saw fear.

“Talk to me,” I urge him.

“We have rules,” he says grinding his jaw. “Marco invented them, I upheld them as did others in this business. Showing you off last night was a mistake. A mistake that’s followed us.”