Locked and Loaded (Bullet, #6) (2 page)

“Ain’t fuckin’ happenin’ without some Oxy.”

She slid her hands down, kissing his back and grabbing his cock, massaging it with a fury he couldn’t understand.  “Aw, c’mon, Insane Zane.”

He pulled away, but she wasn’t letting go of his cock. 
Oh, yeah, that’s right
—she was the girl clutching her artwork.  Fuck.  How’d he always manage to pick them?  “Ain’t happening, bitch.”

“I got some Oxy in my purse.”

His dick twitched at the mention.  “Yeah?”

“One, I think.”

One? 
Just one?
  Well, it’d be a start.  “Get it.”  He almost called her a
whore
.  He was thinking it and knew she would have let him—wouldn’t have batted an eyelash, probably—but he already had enough hate bubbling inside.  Didn’t need to add another charge to the list of offenses.

He pulled up his guy and sent a text before letting the phone drop to the plush carpet. 
Need my usual asap.
  As the girl sauntered back over, Zane tried to picture what she’d looked like last night, ‘cause right now she looked like a rape victim—black eye makeup running halfway down her cheeks, remnants of red lipstick still staining her lips and the skin around her mouth, tousled, tangled blonde hair looking like half a bird’s nest around her head, bruises all over her stick thin legs.  Last night, though, he was sure she’d been hot as hell.

Of course, they
all
looked hot as hell when he was loaded.

He clenched his jaw, squeezing all the creeping thoughts back fucking out of his head.  Goddamn, he hoped she was gonna deliver.

She held out her hand, palm up, and there were two—yes,
two
—of those fucking beauties.  She was going to be his goddess this morning.  He pulled in a breath.  “You are an angel,” he said, almost smiling.

“One for you and one for me.”

He cocked an eyebrow.  “Two for me.”  She pouted as he could feel a deep scowl twisting his face.  “You want me to play, don’t you?”

She blinked, her frown deepening.  “Yeah, I guess.”

Goddammit.  For this little girl, those pills were just for fun.  They were party toys.  She didn’t fucking get that he
needed
them—there was no way anything was going to happen if he didn’t take them and, as it was, they were just a drop in the proverbial bucket.  Before she could even mutter “here,” offering her palm to Zane, he lifted her hand up to his mouth and licked the damn pills off her palm.  And then, as a way of saying
thanks
, he kept licking her palm.

What the fuck had they done last night?  Past the taste of the pills’ coating going down his throat, there was a weird taste covering his tongue, something from her hand.

He didn’t fucking want to know.  Soon, he’d be flying, even if it was at low altitude, and that shit wouldn’t matter.  In the meantime, he had to reward this young lady for her altruistic deed.  So he cupped her breast and led her damp hand to his cock while he pressed his mouth against hers.  It wasn’t long before the other two girls were wrapping themselves around him after girl number one had dropped to her knees, and the pills started to take the pain away, drowning out the voices that wouldn’t fucking shut the hell up.

––––––––

J
ENNIFER MANDERS SMILED politely at the brown-haired man across the table from her.  Why the hell had she agreed to a blind date with an
accountant
?  What had she been thinking?

Well, she
knew
.  She’d made the assumption that he’d be the kind of guy who could provide a good life for her and would likely accept her, baggage and all, but she already knew, after five minutes of awkward conversation, that she could never marry a man like this.

If she were
smart
, she’d end both their suffering right this moment and make up some stupid excuse to leave.  But she wouldn’t.

Jennifer Manders wasn’t known for her courage.  With most people, she’d been a sweet girl, a kind girl, and she’d grown into a polite woman as well.  But her niceness hadn’t always meant a happy life for
her
.  No, far from it.  In fact, the older she grew, the worse it got, and that sucked, because she had to be a role model now.

“Tell me about yourself, Jennifer.”  The guy had a smooth tenor voice, but that was about all he had going for himself.  He had very little expression on his face from one moment to the next—she couldn’t tell if he was happy or sad or glad to be there.

Deadpan.

She wondered how he’d act if she told him she’d been mercilessly bullied as a young child, poked at because she’d been the “good” kid in her small parochial school classroom.  Out of all her classmates, she’d been the one who was afraid of the hellfire and brimstone her teachers preached, and growing up in a seedy Denver neighborhood raised by a single mom trying to get by, it had been tough.  Her mom had become a member of the church so she would be able to pay reduced tuition, and little Jenny Manders would take the bus and then walk the two blocks to the school that sat next to the church.  And, being eager to please, she’d done every little thing they’d asked of her.

But the kids who’d gone there since kindergarten hadn’t appreciated her efforts.

Still, she wasn’t going to stop.  Her mom had had a shit life, and Jennifer had made a promise to do her best for the woman.  “This is a gift, Jenny.  You’ll be getting an amazing education and you’ll be a big fish in a little pond.  Take it.”  Her mom had known that, yes, the school’s education would be rigorous and demanding, but she hadn’t expected they’d be so far ahead of what her daughter had been taught at their neighborhood public school that Jennifer would struggle her entire second grade year.

By the end of that year, she’d made two friends—a boy and a girl—but had also become the target of the bully in her classroom.  The first time the bulky girl had cornered her in the hall and told her to quit kissing the teacher’s ass (language Jennifer had rarely heard other kids her age use), she’d scowled and tried to walk past her...until the bully pinched the inside of Jennifer’s arm so hard, it had bruised almost immediately.

The girl took to chasing Jennifer to her bus stop every day.

It wasn’t long that Jennifer had become better at avoiding and running.  She’d started taking an alternate route to the bus stop, had discovered ways of dodging questions her mom and teachers asked, and became adept at blending into the background.

By the time she got to high school—mixed back in with the general public—she’d thought she’d left it all behind her.  Three years later, by the time she was a senior, she was almost outgoing and bubbly and had learned to make friends easily.  Bullies, it seemed, were a thing of the past.

Her freshman year in college, though, just a few weeks in, her roommate had left for home, homesick and unable to handle what was expected of her.  Jennifer quickly got a new roommate, a catty catastrophe named Charlotte, someone who’d somehow spotted the victim inside Jennifer and brought back all those horrible memories buried deep.  Jennifer couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—let herself be put in a position to be bullied again and requested a room transfer.

It was thanks to that transfer that she’d met one of her best friends ever...and, thanks to that friend, the man who became the love of her life.

Yes, her new roommate was a girl quite similar in upbringing to herself, a young woman named Valerie Quinn.  She too had discovered the guy she’d
thought
was the love of her life, a loser named Ethan, but that guy had been roommates and best friends with Zane Carson, a tall, muscular young man with dark hair and eyes as pure and blue as Sloan Lake.

In the present, Jennifer noticed Mr. Accountant staring at her, and she realized she hadn’t answered his question.  She’d been too busy thinking about the guy who wasn’t there.  She swallowed and forced a smile, picking up her water glass, wondering when the hell the food they’d ordered would get there so she wouldn’t have to engage in any more awkward conversation.  “Not much to tell, really.  I’ve been working with Edwards for five years now, and I don’t think I’ll be leaving any time soon.”

“I’ve heard that about them.  What is it you like most about their company?”

She took a deep breath.  At least that was a topic that would be easy to discuss, so she allowed herself to yap about her present employer.  Yeah, she loved the firm where she worked—earned decent enough money, faced enough challenges to keep the job exciting—but she hated the fucking bitch she worked with.  Her name was Constance, but in her head, Jennifer had taken to thinking of her as
Cunt-stance
.  Jennifer
hated
the
harsh C word
, but it worked for that bitch.  They were supposed to be part of a team, but Cunt-stance refused to work that way—even when Jennifer offered assistance—and she’d sabotaged more than one of Jennifer’s efforts over the past year.  Constance had replaced the woman who’d trained Jennifer and then retired, and Jennifer had hated going to work ever since.  It wasn’t until it was rattling around in the back of her mind while she talked with Mr. Accountant that she realized she was being bullied once more.

She’d considered looking for another job and had applied for one transfer in the building but hadn’t beaten out the other applicants.  She knew now that she’d kind of painted herself into a corner when she’d taken maternity leave and began using the onsite child care.

Yeah...getting a new job, worrying about health insurance and other benefits made it hard to leave.

So she’d begun dating again, this time more earnestly than in the past, because the right guy could take her away from all that shit—or at least give her enough stability between jobs that she could look for one she preferred.

The problem was no man could compare to Zane.  She and Zane had often been fiery—both in and out of bed—and every time they’d tried, it had devolved into nothing but arguing, enough that they’d decided it wasn’t worth it, no matter who’d “started” it.  But, with time away, her mind always grabbed onto their good times—how much she’d loved being with him, how much she’d
loved
him, needed him, wanted him.

Desperately
wanted him.  Especially now.

But ever polite Jennifer would never tell this guy that they wouldn’t work.  She wouldn’t end the meal in the middle, even though it was obvious to her that they weren’t compatible, even though she knew they’d never work.

He too was polite and didn’t press the issue.  He kissed her on the cheek when they parted ways and asked if he could call her sometime. 
Sure.
  Yeah, right.

She got to her apartment half an hour earlier than expected.  She hadn’t even gotten sex out of the deal...which was probably for the better.  She wasn’t in the mood.  It would have merely been a way of saying
thanks for dinner
.  No sex meant he’d be less likely to call next time—unless he was going to ask about openings at her company.

Jennifer unlocked the door and peeled off her coat, closing the door behind her and draping the coat on a barstool in the kitchen.  She saw Kara sitting on the couch, but she couldn’t tell if Zoe was in there with her.  Kara was watching some show on MTV while texting on her phone.  God, Jennifer hoped Zoe
was
asleep and not just lying in her crib playing with one of her chunky plastic toys.  Kara had never seemed that type, but there was always the possibility.

“Hey, Kara.  Zoe’s sleeping?”

Kara startled just slightly, enough that Jennifer couldn’t guess about her daughter.  The young girl looked up from her phone.  “You’re home early.”

“Yeah, short date.”  Kara might not have been the
most
responsible girl, but her family lived next door to Jennifer.  She figured that alone made the girl worth hiring, because if anything horrible happened, her parents were always nearby—and they tended to be homebodies.  Both worked during the week, so they cherished their time at home.  Jennifer reached in her purse to retrieve her wallet and pulled out some bills, counting them once before handing them over.

Kara stood, shoving the phone in her pocket.  “I laid her down with her ‘fier about ten minutes ago.”

Jennifer took a second, remembering that she wasn’t saying
fire
but a clipped version of
pacifier
, something another family Kara babysat for called it.  “Was she good for you?”

“Yeah, of course.”  Kara looked up from counting the bills.  “You didn’t have to give me this much since you got back so soon.”

“Nah.  You would have been available for the duration.  I appreciate it.”

“Thanks, Mrs. M.”  Jennifer smiled.  Kara had always called her
Mrs.
even though Jennifer had never been married.  “Any dates coming up you want me to reserve?”

If only.  She shook her head.  “Not yet.  I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.  I’m saving up for a concert this summer.”

Jennifer felt her stomach clench.  She had to ask and prayed the girl didn’t say she wanted to see Fully Automatic, because it would be so tempting...  “Who you going to see?”

“Panic! At the Disco.”

Jennifer breathed out as she felt her shoulders relax.  “That’ll be fun for you.”

“Yeah...and the guy I like is driving, so I gotta go.”

“You might want to get your tickets now.”

“Oh, that’s already done.  I need money for other stuff.”

Jennifer nodded.  “Of course.”  It wasn’t long that Kara was walking out the door and Jennifer deadbolted the door behind her.  Seconds later she was making her way toward her bedroom.  Zoe’s crib was in there as well, even though she had a second bedroom in the apartment that would have easily served as a nursery.  She’d discovered, though, that breastfeeding as a working mom was a hell of a lot easier when your baby was nearby.  In fact, Zoe had slept with her the entire first year.  It wasn’t until the child was a year old that Jennifer had made the effort to break her child into the crib.

It was nice having her own bed back, even if it was a little empty feeling.