Stone Cold: A Bad Boy Romance (13 page)

I didn't want Emma to know that I could barely keep my eyes open. I hadn't gotten any sleep since I brought her to my apartment the night before. I needed just a little bit of shut-eye to regenerate. But tonight was going to be rough.

Emma was going through extreme withdrawals and if I didn't watch her closely she could die. But it was all worth it because I had the information I needed. Jenkins, her dealer, didn't live far away. In the morning I'd get the drug shipment back, return Emma to her dumpster of a home and everything would go back to normal. Or at least I thought.

We both survived the night. There were some pretty close calls when Emma almost choked on her throw up. I was able to roll her over so she could vomit into the trash can. I didn't get a wink of sleep again and knew that it would affect my entire day.

When dawn came, it was time to show this drug dealer what happens when you mess with the O'Malley brothers.

I drove down Oak Street in my Dodge Charger. Emma didn't give me his exact address but I knew his house immediately. Oak Street was filled with two story mansions that were easily in the million-dollar range. Jenkins' drug house was the only one that didn't fit—a white one-story with bars on the windows.

I parked across the street and watched the house for awhile. It was still really early in the morning. The sky was clear and the air crisp. I'd known many dealers in my time and he was most likely asleep right now. Most dealers didn't do business until the late afternoon and stayed open late. If I was lucky, I'd catch him off-guard in bed.

I walked to his front door and tried to look through the side window. The blinds were closed and the view blocked. I quietly tried the door handle but it was locked. Some dealers were stupid enough to keep their doors unlocked. My only way in was the old-fashioned way. I looked around carefully down the street. Any witnesses could easily put a wrench in my plan. But nobody was out this early.

I curled my hand into a fist and smashed it through the side window. The dealer would probably be awake by now. But I still had time. I reached in through the broken window and felt around for the deadbolt. My fingers barely grazed it but I was able to turn the lock and open the door.

The living room was completely empty. Not usual with a drug dealer. Most of them made a lot of quick money so that meant lots of high-end electronics: big screens, sound systems, and video games. But this house was barren. Something was wrong. I could sense it.

The back bedrooms were empty too. Not even a mattress was in there. If a drug dealer lived here, there was no evidence of it now. Or that bitch, Emma, was lying to me. That sounded more likely. In her messed-up state I took what she told me as the truth. Why would she lie to me when she needed drugs so badly? She had to of known that I wouldn't bring any back when I found out she was lying.

Or what if she was just trying to get me out of the house? I quickly checked my car keys and noticed the handcuff keys were still on there. She could break apart the bed if she really wanted to. I had to get back home.

I rushed back to the living room and to the front door. I almost opened it when I heard someone knock from outside. I froze in place, not knowing what to do. Could be the police or a concerned neighbor. I'd have to run out the back in a hurry. I looked through the peephole and saw a skinny guy shaking and constantly scratching his arms. Definitely not a neighbor or a cop. I opened the door.

“Hey man, is Jenkins around? I know he's not open yet but I just really need my fix. I'll pay whatever he wants.” The guy looked around nervously. I pulled him inside by his shirt, closed the door, and slammed him against it.

“Where the fuck is Jenkins?” I growled. My patience was already wearing thin.

“Dude! What the fuck? Just chill out.”

My fist sank into the junkie's stomach and he collapsed to his knees, his breathing turned to rasps. “Tell me where Jenkins is or I'll have to hurt you more.”

The druggie put his hands up in surrender. “I don't know, you psycho! I just came to his house looking for a fix.”

The rage told me to hit the guy one more time for good measure. But he didn't know jack shit. Getting my hands dirtier wouldn't get me any closer to finding the dealer. But it would damn well make me feel better. I threw a right hook at the junkie's face, snapping his head back and knocking him unconscious. The boiling anger subsided and I really did feel better. I opened the door, pushing the druggie's limp body to the side.

I put my sunglasses on and realized that Emma wasn't lying to me. This house
was
Jenkins' but he had already skipped town. He either ran after the stealing the drugs or heard that the O'Malleys were on to him. Either way, it wasn't looking good for me. The O'Malley brothers expected results
and I always delivered.

On the way back to my apartment, I got another call from Liam. No way I could dodge it this time.

“I need a fucking update, Roman. You've been gone too long. Where the fuck are my drugs?” Liam was already furious and I needed to play this cool.

“I got the dealer's address from the junkie and I'm on my way there right now.” I had no choice but to lie to Liam. I had to give myself a little time to figure out my next move.

“Why is it taking so fucking long? You should have already flayed that drug bastard yesterday.”

I couldn't tell him that I had taken Emma home with me. He wouldn't understand. “The junkie took a little longer than usual to get the information out.”

“Keep me posted, Roman. I want this mess cleaned up and I want it done now.”

“Yes, sir.” I threw my phone into the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel, clenching my teeth. I needed to find that drug dealer and fast. But first I needed to check on Emma. I didn't want her to dying on me in my fucking bedroom.

I got back to my apartment with some burgers and fries. She needed some solid food in her. I knocked on the door before opening it. Emma was still chained to the bed right where I left her. Her skin was slick with sweat and her legs were shaking. I'd have to change the sheets tonight. She opened her eyes slowly and realized it was me.

“Give me the fucking drugs, Roman. I need them right now.” The desire in her eyes was unmistakable. She'd do anything right now for a fix.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping my distance. Her nails were long and she could do some serious damage. “Your dealer skipped town, Emma. Tell me where he went and I'll get you the drugs.”

Emma sank back into the bed, slowly whispering to herself, “You told me you would get me the drugs. You told me you would get me drugs.” Her eyes darted back and forth across the room.

I raised my voice. “Tell me where your dealer went and I'll get you your drugs.”

She looked up at me with wide eyes. “I have no idea. I only knew the one place. Now please give me something. I can't take much more of this.”

I was at a dead end. It could take me weeks to find that cockroach of a dealer. The O'Malley brothers wouldn't like this. Just because I grew up with them didn't protect me from their extreme punishments. I could lose a hand for this. Literally.

I set the bag of fast food down on the nightstand next to Emma. “Where the fuck are you going?” she demanded. If only I could fuck her to shut the bitch up. Emma's blouse was dark with sweat and her erect nipples were poking through. The stiffness in my pants was ordering me to fuck her and get her addicted to my cock. Emma was chained to my bed and it wouldn't be hard to take her. It might make both of us feel better. But she wasn't in any condition for sex. And I needed to clear my head.

I left the room to Emma throwing every curse word known to man at me. She was going to have to beat this addiction or die trying.

I leaned against the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the ground in the hallway. What was I going to do with Emma? She shouldn't even be here right now. Why was I being such a do-gooder. That wasn't me. That wasn't the Roman that beat this shit out of people for a living. With any other person, I'd have thrown them away the second I got the information.

But Emma was different. I wanted to save her. Save her from herself. But my honor was going to get us both killed.

I could barely keep down the cheeseburgers that Roman brought me. I was so hungry but the withdrawals were kicking my ass. They weren't as bad as the night before but I didn't know how I was going to make it out of this alive.

That night, the aching and shaking subsided and I was able to get some real sleep. The next morning, I woke up feeling almost normal again. Almost. The overwhelming need for heroin was still there but it was somewhat more manageable. I had thrown away my life for a drug and now was the time to get it back.

“How are you feeling?” Roman asked as he swaggered into the room, carrying a box.

I rubbed my eyes and squinted against the sunlight coming through the blinds. “Feels like a nasty hangover but not feeling like I'm going to implode at any moment.”

“I'm glad to hear.” Roman set the box down at the foot of the bed. “Here's your stuff from that dump you called home.”

I looked around at the holes in the stained walls. “You shouldn't be talking. Your place ain't much better.”

Roman almost fell over laughing. His smile was contagious. “I'm going to make some breakfast, if you want some.”

“I'd like that very much.” I stood up and the handcuffs preventing me from getting very far. I fell right back down on the bed.

“I guess you won't be needing those anymore.” Roman produced a set a keys and fit a skinny one into the cuffs. My wrist was red but not too sore.

I realized what Roman had done for me. He had saved me from the deepest darkest hole. I could finally be me again.

“Umm, I wanted to tell you thank you.” I couldn't even make eye contact with him.

“For what? Kidnapping and almost torturing you?”

I chuckled. “For getting me through the withdrawals. If you hadn't come along. I'd still be in that nasty building, shooting that junk into my veins.” I looked down at the track marks on the inside of my arms. Would those ever go away? Would I always be that junkie?

“Don't mention it,” he replied. “I couldn't see a pretty girl like yourself waste away in a place like that.” I knew he must've been lying because the drugs had destroyed my looks. I had avoided mirrors on purpose just so I didn't have to see the damage it had done to me.

Roman left me alone in the room with the box of my stuff. I had sold almost all my belongings to get a fix. I had no idea what Roman could have brought over from my old place. There was nothing left. I peeked inside to find brand new clothes: jeans, shirts, panties, bras, and socks. They were all my size.
How did he know?

Below the clothes was a small makeup kit. Nothing fancy but all the basics: eyeliner, eyeshadow, foundation, and lipstick. I didn't even remember the last time I woke up and actually put makeup on. It was probably the night of the college party when my whole life went down the toilet.

I set the contents of the box to the side and at the very bottom was a crumpled-up photo. Tears began streaming down my cheeks.
How did Roman even find this?
It was a picture of my parents and me at the Grand Canyon when I was around seven years old. I had kept it under my dirty mattress and had forgotten all about it. I had sold my purse to a pawn shop for something like five dollars and that photo was the only thing I kept.

My parents wanted to go on a vacation to the Grand Canyon and I thought it was going to be the most boring road trip of my life. I complained the whole way there and my mom and dad were arguing with each other. It was was one of those times I wished I was old enough to stay home by myself.

But when we got to the Grand Canyon, everybody stopped. All we did was stare out into the vastness and appreciate what we had. The canyon was so damn big. Why didn't anybody tell me? We got a kid to take our picture and I had that photo pinned on my wall all the way up to college.

When I got into drugs, I knew my parents were looking for me. I had just up and left, searching for my next fix. I knew I had to live alone. There was no way, I could hide my drug habit from them. And if they ever found out, the disappointment in their eyes would kill me. One day, I spotted one of those missing person flyers nailed to a telephone pole. It was about me.

I almost contacted them that day. I didn't want them thinking I was dead. I wanted to tell them that I was perfectly safe and we'd see each other again someday. But I figured they were better off knowing that I was dead than finding out what their daughter had become.

I wiped the tears away and placed the photo on the nightstand. I took the brand new clothes and the makeup kit into the bathroom. If you ever wondered what a boy's bathroom looked like if he has no one to clean up after him, Roman's bathroom was it. The counters had never been cleaned, cardboard toilet paper rolls were overflowing out of the wastebasket, and hair clippings filled the sink. I would've gagged if I was the Emma from awhile back. But this Emma didn't even use a bathroom anymore. She just pissed and shit in whatever corner was the dirtiest. So I couldn't complain.

I walked in front of the mirror with my eyes tightly shut. I was terrified of what I'd see in the reflection. I opened my eyes and choked back the tears. I'd lost so much weight. My cheeks had no color and my eyes were all sunken in and dark. My hair was in knots and I was surprised it wasn't much worse since I never brushed my hair anymore.

I slipped out of my sweat-stained clothes and tossed them on top of the trash in the wastebasket. I'd never wear those again. I inspected my body in the mirror and was shocked. My figure wasn't too bad. I had lost a bunch of weight but it was in all the right places. My breasts looked even bigger now and you could see the beginnings of my collarbone.

I turned on the shower and waited until it was scalding hot. It was going to take a lot of cleaning to get all this dirt and grime off. The steam filled the bathroom as I stepped under the water. I couldn't even remember the last time I actually bathed myself. The warm water hit my head and cascaded down, instantly relaxing me. The water at the bottom of the tub turned a light brown from all the dirt.

I don't even know how long I stayed under that hot water, trying to forget all the wrong choices I'd made. My parents probably believed I was dead. The tears came back again in full force. I dropped to my knees and cried my heart out until there was nothing left. It was all my fault. I couldn't blame Sarah or the drugs. It was all my choice. Now I needed to make up for all the bad I'd done.

Putting on makeup was a surreal experience. I couldn't believe that I used to do it everyday of my life no matter what. It seemed like such a far off dream. I darkened my eyes and traced my lips with the light red lipstick. I didn't even recognize myself in the mirror. Old Emma was standing before me. Could I really become her again?