Handled (3 page)

Why I even care is beyond me, yet I can’t help but stare at those immense shoulders stretching his black tee, or the ass perfectly encased in “just the right tight” faded jeans. I’d forgotten how built the man was.

Almost hypnotized, I watch as he snatches something from the shelf, then returns, falling in line behind the man who’d slipped into his spot.

“You new?” the guy asks, his creepy leer and asinine one-liner reminding me not all men swim in the deep end of the genetic pool.

“Yup, what can I get ya?”

His lip rises at one crusty corner, eyes darkening. “Oh, I’m thinking of several things. What’s your name, Sugar?” He leans forward, elbows on my counter.

“Herpes,” I deadpan and Vaughn barks out a laugh from behind this tool.

Not easily discouraged, the dude smiles, flashing
all six
graying teeth. And to think…seven and my panties would have flown right off.
Damn healthcare.
“I gotta cure for that,” he sneers, lifting a hand toward my face. “Let me show you what a real man can do to that body of yours.”

Before I even withdraw two steps, his arm’s lowered and curled behind his back for him…if the police ask. If not, jerked down and yanked is more accurate.

“That’s enough, asshole. Apologize to the lady and disappear quicker than I can catch ya. Feel me?” Vaughn growls, pulling up on the man’s arm, which I can’t
see
but I know must be painful, judging from the creeper’s harsh wincing.

“S-sorry,” the guy sputters. “There, I said it! Let go!”

Vaughn turns him to the door, releasing and shoving him forward in unison. “One warning is all ya get. Might wanna drive the extra thirty to the next stop from now on!” he yells to the guy’s retreating back just before the door falls shut.

Holy shit
. Vaughn has a temper. And instead of scaring me off or bringing out the grateful little girl buried within me, I’m plain pissed.

“So,” he spins to face me, bright eyed like nothing happened, “I see you got the job. Oh, here,” he offers me the wipes he’d grabbed before the pissing contest. “Disinfect your forehead, Herpes.” He laughs.

“I could have handled him myself!”

“I’m sure you coulda,” he winks, “but now you don’t have to. Ring me up for those and whatever I have in fuel please. Pump thirty-seven.”

I slam my hands flat on the counter and lean forward, ready to make it clear to him that I’m not the type of girl that needs protecting, when he smiles, looking past me.

“Viv! Where’s my lovin’?”

Rolling my eyes while grumbling a few choice words under my breath, I rip a wipe out of the package and begin scrubbing.

“Vaughn, you never have to ask, you know that.” She flings herself over the barrier between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and peppering his face in kisses. “Where you headed?”

“Up north.” He trails a hand through his black hair to fix her damage when he breaks away. I’d call him pretty boy and offer a mirror, but it’s rude to interrupt. “Couple days. How’s your help?” He nods my way with a devious grin.

Her gaze follows, smile brightening. “Paige? I love this lil’ hardass.” She slings an arm around my shoulder. “Ya’ll know each other?”

“No,” I snap at the same time as he insinuatingly drawls, “Oh yeah.”

Viv arches both brows…she can smell the story.

Fuck it
. I sigh. “Vaughn and I have a common friend, or, uh, cousin. Whatever.” I wave it off. “He did get me the job, though.” I look directly at him. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he mouths and winks.

“Oh, ho ho!” Viv’s jibing hoot crawls over my skin. “I’ll just go check the stalls. You two have fun.”

“Did Harlow leave?” I call out as she moves to leave.

“Yup, walked her out the back and to her car. I swear this winter will be one of the worst we’ve had in a decade. You drive safe out there, boy!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Vaughn salutes, eyes glittering, smile sincere.

Viv’s gaze bounces between us once more before she gives a slight shake to her head. “Byeee.” She rolls her fingers in a wave and saunters off.

Unsure what I just saw sparking in her thoughtful expression, I turn my focus back to Vaughn. “Your total comes to $6.66, got a card?” It’s actually $184.56, but it had to be said.

His eyes remain on me as he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing me a Visa. I concentrate on the machine and processing the transaction, but look up when he clears his throat.

“Paige,” he uses two fingers to slide a slip of paper across the smooth counter, “this is my handle. If you ever need anything, I’ll answer this faster than my phone if I’m driving. Like with that guy earlier. Just holler at me and I can talk you through, or him out, loud enough that he’ll get the message.”

I return his card and receipt for him to sign, stealing a glance at the scrap.
Jawbreaker, Channel 2.

“Jawbreaker?” I snort. “Really?”

“What?” He grins, wide and wickedly charming.

“Why that? Seems silly. Or…”

His brows slowly raise, a smugness to his features that I take in and catalogue beside everything else I know of the man so far, then gasp, biting back a fit of laughter.

“Oh, please!” I hound him, eyes rolling back. “Are you…” my humor is hardly contained, “possibly trying to insinuate…” my gaze drops to his crotch, “that your cock could break someone’s jaw?” I clutch my side, slap my other hand on the counter, and howl madly.

“Hey, Chuckles.” He taps my hand, so I pull it together, albeit an unwavering vibration in my shoulders, and force myself to look at him. “I like the way your mind works, and watching you laugh—I fucking adore that even more—but you’re off point tonight. Although,” he lifts the lid on the huge glass jar at the end of the row of impulse buys and plucks out a handful of huge gobstoppers, or…jawbreakers…and flashes me one of his winks, “you may be on to something. Holler if you need me.” He slaps the counter twice, pops one of the candies in his mouth, and strolls away without a backward glance.

Chapter 3

Even if I sleep during the day, which makes my entire body think something’s off and battles me on it, I still start dragging ass around 4:00 am every night. Or morning, depending how you look at it. Which I almost can’t, since my eyes won’t stay open.

“Firecracker, come back.”

And now I’m suffering hallucinations. Good stuff.

“My lil’ Firecracker, you out there? Come back.”

Who? Come back where?
The place is practically dead tonight and I look around, up, and down, cursing Viv the likes to shame a sailor for taking another “break”…right when the ghosts start talking, no less.

Johnny, this one’s called, I think. Hope he’s worth a fucking poltergeist.

“Paige!”

The goblin knows my name. Fuck. My. Life.

“Paige, the CB. If you can hear me, pick it up and press the button on the side to talk, then let go for my turn. Come back.”

I gotta start drinking coffee. Hopping off my stool, I pick up the walkie talkie and press the button.

“Tupac? Is that you? Can you tell me where you are?”

“Hey, you,” he says, absolutely not Tupac. I’d know
this
cocky hum anywhere. Once I ruled out paranormal activity, that is.

“Hey yourself, Vaughn. What are you doing, and who’s Firecracker?”

“You. Your name.”

“What?” This whole radio weird name thing in the middle of the night isn’t processing so quickly.

“Don’t press the button,” he rushes out. “Let me say come back before you press it. Woman, I swear,” he grumbles.

“That it? Roger, Lost Sheep, Bo Peep, over.” When I release the button for his turn, all I hear is his very sexy, can’t be denied laugh.

“Paige, sweetie, what are you doing?”

I drop the hand device, watching it swing back and forth on the spring cord, and spin to face Viv. “Nothing, and I didn’t break it.”

She laughs, lifting the latch to join me in the upraised register area. “That—”

“Ohh, Firecracker…”

Viv’s head turns to the sound of the voice then back to me. “That Vaughn?”

I nod, rolling my eyes; a nasty habit I knew I had, but all these new “friends” purposely antagonize me to do it ten times more often.

“Oh,” her voice and chin drops, enlarged eyes pinning me, “no.”

“No what?”

She sighs and pats the top of the stool. “Have a seat.”

Leery, because much like Vaughn, the verdict on
her
sanity’s still out, I slowly slide one hip up and back until I’m atop the seat, eyes on her.

“Paige, deep down you’re a sweet girl,” she begins, “and—”

“No, I’m not.” I snap. No need to confuse her.

“Ah, honey, I get the defensive thing. Young girl, life lessons hardened you. I was there once, but you listen to old Viv now.” She pats my knee. “Vaughn ain’t a one woman kind of man. And tangling with him,” her red head shakes as she tsks, “is only gonna leave you feeling more beat down, alone, and used than before.”

“Paging Paige,” he snickers over the channel, “are you okay?”

“How would you know?” I stand, brushing by her. The adrenaline pumping through me is bothersome; I barely know Vaughn, but her hopping truck bed to bed then judging him behind his back isn’t sitting well with me. He got me this job and he didn’t have to do that. So he can’t be
all bad
. And even if he is… at least say it to the man’s face so he has a chance to defend himself.

“Paige?” Vaughn’s voice is no longer playful but edged with an unsettling concern. It’s something new for me to hear in a man’s voice.

“Viv, show me how to work this damn thing, would you?”

I hear her sigh as she approaches from behind. “Press this to talk. When you’re done, you can say over, come back, or come on, then let go and he’ll talk. Don’t press it again until he says the same thing. Your turn, and so on.” She hands it to me with a troubled frown.

“Seriously, Viv, you don’t know him and I meant it. I’m not a
nice
girl, and can certainly take care of myself. It’s a conversation, not a romp in the parking lot.” That’s right. I laid her shit bare with scrutinous eyes and one brow arched.

“Okay, okay.” She raises her hands in defeat. “Have fun. By all means, what do I know? Just an old lot lizard, I got it. I’ll go check the showers.” She lets the breakaway slam behind her as she storms off.

“Vaughn?”

“Finally! Fuck! You ok? Come back.”

“Yeah, just…had a customer. What’s up? Over.”

“Listen, see the dial on the base there? When I say over, turn the knob to change channels. I’ll meet you at the same number as your apartment. And no real names. Over.”

He takes this shit serious, all Steven Segal on me. I can hang with that; anything to break up the monotony of my shift. I flip the dial till I’m on channel 18 and wait.

“Firecracker, you here? Come back.”

“Why the hell are you calling me that? Over.” Tired of standing, I scoot the base closer to the edge of the counter for leeway and pop a squat right there on the floor, leaning back against the wall.

“Listen, my handle is Jawbreaker, remember? Don’t use our real names, ever. Anyone on this channel—could be zero, could be a hundred—can hear what we say. So from now on, I’m Jawbreaker and you’re Firecracker. Come back.”

Is he serious right now? “Hold on, why the hell do
you
get to pick
my
handle? And why Firecracker? Over.”

Okay, I’ll admit, this is kinda fun. Certainly a distraction to keep me awake. Plus, I feel all badass lady cop…or something…

“‘Cause I’m the CB veteran in this relationship. And because you’re a feisty, colorful ‘never know if you’re gonna be pretty or just blow up and make a lotta noise’ kind of girl.” He laughs. “Like a firecracker. Perfect name, if I do say so myself. Come back.”

I can’t help it, I’m chewing my lip attempting to hold back the smile. “The handle’s not bad, I can live with it. But what’s this imaginary relationship you’re speaking of? Over.”

Yeah, I’ve crossed my legs and let my hair down, getting comfy. Well, as much as possible. I am, after all, sitting on the floor in a truck stop.

“I’m not talkin’ rings and shit, but anytime two people fuck like animals it’s
some
kind of relationship. Come back.”

“Do I know these two lucky people? Over.”

“Me and you of course. Come back.”

“How many times did you skip health class exactly? Pumping yourself and screaming my name? That’s not fucking,” I jibe, dripping with playful sarcasm.

“You’re funny, Sparky. I like it. And keep up that tough girl thing. Turns me on. But don’t get shit twisted, we will fuck. Come back.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you? Over.”

“You wanna deny it? I bet your hand has been down those sweet lil’ panties every night since we met while you’re thinking about me. Thinking of how good it’d be if it were
my
fingers sliding inside you. Come back.”

My thighs squeeze tight, pussy throbbing. Before I can reply with even a semblance of a witty comeback, his voice sounds once more.

“Don’t lie to me, Firecracker. Tell me you’ve thought about how my cock would feel pounding into you. We both know you’ll be begging for it soon enough. Come back.”

“You know what I’ll be begging for? Your egotistical ass…”

The bell over the door rings and I quickly duck my head and lower my voice. “Customer, hold on. Over,” I whisper, then jump up and straighten myself.

“Can I help you?” I smile, too perky.

“Who are you?” the beautiful man asks, his voice edged with irritation. “Where’s Viv?”

Now
this
is who she
should
pick. Over six feet of caramel-skinned man with a sexy black goatee and neatly cropped hair of the same color. Why is Viv not hitting this?

“I’m new and she’s checking the showers. Who are you?” I shoot right back at him, trying to remain snarly instead of picturing a naked Blair Underwood in my head.

“Shower stalls?” he asks, pointing their direction, wide-eyed. “Where the
men
shower? Oh hell no,” he thunders and then he’s off.