Until Alex (2 page)

A blonde in her early twenties stepped up beside him, hanging sloppily on his arm. Her barely-there skirt and too-tight black halter top left little to the imagination. Then, like a cat on a scratching post, she rubbed her overexposed body up his side as he unlocked the door.

Classy
.

Her seductive eyes never left his as she slipped inside his apartment. Oh, he was definitely getting some. And he totally knew it. By the looks of the girl, the whole building knew it.

“Watch out for that one.”

My entire body jolted before I spun around.

My aunt sat on the sofa with her eyes on her iPad. It had only been a month since our initial meeting, but her shoulder length dark hair, pouty lips, and green eyes still struck me speechless. She was the spitting image of my mother.

I walked back to the loveseat and dropped down
across from her, crossing my legs beneath me. “What do you mean?” I settled in, hoping she’d elaborate. Divulge information. Shed some light on the mysterious guy across the hall.

“Hayden.”

Hayden
. I let the name and his image mesh in my mind. Yeah. I could see it.

She lowered her iPad and lifted an all-knowing eyebrow. “It’s who you’ve been looking for, isn’t it?”

Having no desire to deny it or explain it, I shrugged.
Plus
, I wasn’t really sure how to explain it. Hayden was a stranger. Someone I’d barely spoken to. Someone I knew nothing about. Someone whose mere presence comforted me in ways no one else’s had. 

See?  I
was a mess.

“Well, allow me to tell you a little something about Hayden.”

I leaned in, ready to absorb it all.

“In the three years he’s lived here, I’ve never seen him bring home the same girl twice. It’s a different one all the time. And he never lets them stay. They’re always sneaking out an hour or two after they arrive.”

A rush of disappointment washed over me. It was inexplicable. I didn’t even know him. “So why do you let him live here?”

My aunt lifted a shoulder. “He pays his rent on time and doesn’t make any noise. That’s all I care about.”

“I bet if he lived next door, you’d hear some noise.” I gasped as the words left my mouth. It had been a month. A long trying month since I felt the urge to spew sarcasm. And though it wasn’t delivered with the same
oomph
I normally used, it felt amazing to just exist in the moment with nothing else weighing me down. Not my sadness. Not my anger. Not my guilt.

My aunt smiled. 

Fighting back my own smile, I glanced around her living room. As if I’d been living in an unfocused microscope since arriving, everything twisted into focus.
Holy
red plaid
. Sofas. Ottoman. Curtains.

How had I not noticed?

Little wooden trinkets sat atop her weathered maple furniture. Doilies rested below the light fixtures, fitting into the country motif. Our housekeeper back home would’ve been appalled by the fine layer of dust coating the furniture, but it worked for my aunt. And her taking me in when I had nowhere else to go, worked for me.

“So he lives alone?” I looked back to Katherine, hoping she’d reveal more than just the specifics of Hayden’s sex life. But she only nodded. “Where’s his family?”

She lifted her iPad. “Sorry, sweetie, that’s his story to tell. Not mine.”

I definitely wasn’t surprised he had a story.

“Just don’t go falling under his spell,” she warned.

“His spell?”

She lowered her device, letting her eyes fall upon me. “I may be closing in on forty, but it doesn’t mean I’m blind. He’s gorgeous and brooding. Doesn’t get more tempting than that.”

This time I did smile. And it felt good. 

The fact that I was in so much trouble…not so much.

CHAPTER TWO

HAYDEN

“Dude, can’t you go any faster?” Remy asked from the passenger side of my truck. 

I glanced over, cursing under my breath. His damn boot was planted on my dashboard. I’d given up asking him to move it, but it still pissed me off to no end. Especially when he laughed it off, leaving it there like he owned the truck.

That was Remy. He did whatever the hell he wanted. Including inking up his body and piercing his face and tongue.

“Once we get there,” he said. “I hope the asshole says he ain’t paying. I’d really like to beat a deadbeat’s ass tonight.”

I shook my head. Remy lived for the shit we did for cash. I just hoped they paid so we could get the hell out of dodge.

Remy dropped his foot and leaned forward, pointing to a single-level house coming up on our left. Except for the television flickering inside what I assumed to be the living room, the house sat draped in darkness. My eyes shot to the truck in the driveway. Good. He was home. Hopefully he’d just fork over the cash.

I steered clear of any street lights as I pulled my black F150 to a stop across the street and a few houses away from our target. I didn’t own much, so I tried to keep it out of harm’s way.

Before I even shifted into park, Remy jumped out. He jogged down the deserted street and crossed the lawn with wide strides. Apparently he planned to fly solo.  He’d been doing that a lot lately. Which was fine by me. I’d lost the desire to join him three years ago. That’s when we stopped running money and started hitting up guys who didn’t pay their bookie.

There was nothing I hated more than laying my hands on
someone. But I never let on, always showing up for Remy. He needed me. And I always had his back. No questions asked.

I killed the engine, taking in the lower-class neighborhood, with its similar houses tightly lining the street.

Remy pounded on our target’s front door. He impatiently twisted to scour the neighborhood, searching the shadows for any sign of trouble. He was paranoid. Always had been. Just like he’d always been scrawny.

But his gaunt looks were deceiving. They gave no indication of the power a blow from him could pack. Juvie made Remy stronger. But life made him harder. I guess it’s what brought us together in the first place. Both foster kids. Both angry at the world.

The door to the house cracked open. Remy spun around, jamming the toe of his boot in the gap. Good thing. The asshole tried to slam the door in his face. Remy’s palm flew out, shoving it open and forcing his way inside.

I gripped my door handle, ready to assist if I got the sign or he’d been in there too long. It happened more often than not. Not because Remy and I sucked at our job. Because we didn’t. We always delivered. But deadbeats had no intention of paying the money they owed. And most didn’t owe chump change. They owed thousands.

I snagged the gun stowed under my seat and tucked it into the back of my jeans. These guys weren’t just gambling addicts. They suffered other addictions, too. None of which I wanted to get caught in the middle of unarmed. Especially when demanding money they’d already stiffed our boss on.

The television inside the house flicked off, shrouding the house in complete darkness.

I flew out of the truck and across the lawn, unsure if I even shut my door. I reached the house and pushed the door open slightly, uncertain what I’d find.

The house sat unnervingly silent as I slipped inside the empty living room. Luckily, the moonlight squeezed through the window blinds and guided my route as I glided against the wall, careful not to bump any of the worn furniture and make my presence known.

Gripping the gun in the back of my belt, and hoping to God I didn’t have to use it, I turned the corner into the small kitchen.

An angry shudder rolled through me.

A house-of-a-guy with a long gray ponytail and soiled wife-beater held Remy against the wall by his neck. By the looks of his huge biceps, he squeezed not only to silence Remy, but to kill him.

I drew my gun, aiming it at the back of the guy’s head as I moved toward him.

“Let him down,” I ordered, my teeth clenched in hate.

The guy didn’t move, not even to readjust his grasp on Remy, now breathless and turning blue.

Beads of sweat rolled down the back my neck, kicking my adrenaline into gear. I jammed the gun into the back of his head, shoving it forward. “I don’t think you heard me. I said, ‘Let him down.’”

The guy must’ve had a death wish because he didn’t acknowledge the fact that I’d spoken.

I released the gun’s safety sending the ominous
click
echoing off the outdated metal cabinets. 

“
Noooo,
” my mother’s scream broke through my subconscious.

I shook off the vision just as the guy’s shoulders finally dropped. His grip loosened, and he lowered Remy to his feet.

Remy bent at the waist, gasping for air and massaging his aching neck. I didn’t dare go to him. He wouldn’t want me to. Instead I kept my gun on the guy.

Within seconds, Remy straightened up. He cracked his neck to the left then right. Then his fist flew out from his side, slamming repeatedly into the guy’s face. Blow after blow. Blood sprayed from the guy’s nose as he staggered back, his arms flapping in front of him in an attempt to ward off Remy’s attack.

If he thought he could manhandle Remy without recourse, he had another thing coming. 

I lowered my gun. It was time for the Remy show. When he was in the zone, no one could stop him.

It only took a few more powerful blows to the face to send the guy flying on his ass. But even then, Remy inundated his sides with full-blown soccer kicks, garnering grunts and groans as he struggled to shield his body. Knowing Remy, the guy’s noises only added more fuel to his fire.

For me, the sounds elicited an immediate flashback. One so strong it yanked me by the collar and shoved me barreling back to the alley three years ago.

With swollen eyes and a bloody face, the guy writhing on the filthy pavement shielded his head with his arms. I didn’t matter to me. I didn’t ease up my attack. My fists slammed mercilessly into any part of his solid flesh I could get a shot at.

I clenched my throbbing jaw, spitting out a mouthful of blood on the pavement as I stood.
He’d gotten in a cheap shot before Remy and I took him down. That rarely happened. The mere thought brought the toe of my boot to the side of his head one last time before his body fell limp.

Remy heaved me back.
“Fuck, Hayden. You probably killed him.”

“Get us the money!” Remy’s voice snapped me out of my head and back to the here and now. His tone left no room for confusion. We weren’t leaving until we collected what the guy owed our boss. 

Bloody and woozy, he rolled to his knees on the kitchen floor, gasping for breath. Finally, he staggered to his feet.

Prepared for the stunts these deadbeats pulled when they felt desperate, Remy freed his gun from his boot. “Keep your hands where I can see them.” He shoved the gun into the guy’s back as he pushed his beaten body down the dark hallway.

Chances were the guy didn’t have all the money. He wouldn’t have stiffed our boss if he did. But Remy was good at getting some of it, then finding valuables as collateral until the balance got paid. 

I leaned against the kitchen counter, giving my body a minute to recover. My chest heaved like I’d run a marathon and a shrill piercing rang in my ears. Nights like these, coupled with my walking nightmares, were taking a toll on my sanity.

I just kept telling myself this job—this life—paid better than any minimum wage job I could get. And since I had bills most guys my age didn’t, and no parents to help out, I couldn’t afford not to help Remy.

But that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was I wanted out. No, I
needed
out.

But I owed Remy.

I’d always owe him.

Minutes passed before Remy emerged from the room alone.

I followed him outside into the warm night, quickening my pace in case the guy came running after us. It wouldn’t have been the first time. But Remy was in no rush as we crossed the lawn. “You think he called the cops?”

“Nope.” Remy flashed a devious grin. “He’d have a hell of a time calling anyone right about now.”

ALEX

I padded down the dark hallway en route to the kitchen, careful not to slip on the hardwood floor or wake my aunt who’d fallen asleep on the sofa.

I poured myself a tall glass of water. The cool liquid refreshed my sour mouth, but it didn’t help my insomnia. Nothing did. Twenty years old and dark circles already beset my eyes.
Fan-freaking-tastic
.

Insomnia for me wasn’t like other people’s. It was self-inflicted. I mean, how could it not be? The second I closed my eyes, my mind whirled like a carousel of memories. Memories I wasn’t ready to revisit. Memories that reminded me I was broken.

And it was all my fault.

I finished my drink and turned back toward my room, considering the next book I’d read. Would it be my favorite Chelsea Fine or the new one by Stephanie Elliot? Before I could decide, a shuffling came from the main hallway.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Pivoting, I tip-toed quickly by my aunt to the front door. I grabbed the handle and pulled it open.

Hayden twisted from his door, catching me in his fierce gaze. His eyes drifted down, sweeping over my pink camisole and white polka-dot shorts. Okay, so maybe whipping open the door hadn’t been a brilliant idea.

“Hey.”
Could I get any lamer?

His eyes lifted to mine. But he didn’t say a word. He just turned back to his door and inserted his key into the lock.

I held my tongue. Because the truth was, he owed me nothing. On an exhale, I turned back to my aunt’s apartment.

“You still think I’m some kind of miracle worker?” His sexy raspy voice caught me off guard.

My body stilled. Prior to that moment, he’d said a total of four words to me. I hadn’t expected the words to roll off his tongue so smooth. So confident. So masculine.

I spun back around, taking a small step into the hallway so I wouldn’t wake my aunt.

With his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, he made no attempt to disguise his wandering eyes still slowly raking over my pajamas.

Vulnerable under his gaze, and quickly remembering I wasn’t wearing a bra, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Any chance you can cure insomnia, too?”

He flashed a faint smile, one I would’ve missed if my eyes weren’t fixated on his lush lips. “Have you tried warm milk?”

I blinked, forcing my eyes back to his. “Every couple hours.”

He pushed open his door, but remained in the hallway. “Reading?”

“Just finished book number five.”

He raised a brow. “TV?”

I nodded. “Already ordered three infomercial products. If you need a body pillow, vegetable peeler, or lifetime supply of floss, I’m your girl.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, but he suppressed a smile.

I wondered why.

“A bottle of Jack usually does the trick for me,” he offered, before stepping into his apartment.

My heart dropped at his sudden
retreat.

But then he stopped in his doorway and shot me one last look over his shoulder. “Goodnight.”

Before I could say a word, he closed the door behind him, leaving me alone.

Again.