Chapter 12
Jo-Leigh
My lungs burn as I take the stairs two at a time, heart racing so loud it drowns out the city noise behind me. I don’t stop running until I’m inside my apartment, door locked and deadbolted behind me.
Only then do I sink to the floor, my back to the door, hands trembling.
What the hell was I thinking?
What did I expect would happen? That I could walk into his bar, play with fire, and come out unscathed?
I press my forehead to my knees and try to focus on breathing. One in. One out. Just like they taught me when the world got too loud. I can still feel Swag’s hands on me. Still taste his kiss. Still hear the fury in his voice when he barked at Talon to handle it.
He was going to claim me right there on his desk.
And I almost let him. God. What is wrong with me? I curl my fingers into fists and shove myself off the floor. I need water. Maybe a shower. Definitely a new city.
I’ve just turned on the faucet when the knock comes. It’s not hesitant. It’s not polite. It’s three hard pounds that echo through the apartment like a warning. I freeze.
No one knows where I live.
No one except…
No.
He wouldn’t. He was dealing with cops, with a raid. There’s no way he could’ve followed me that fast. Right? My gaze flicks toward the front door. The knock comes again, louder this time.
“Jo-Leigh. Open the door.”
Oh God. It’s him. I back away from the sink, heart in my throat. That voice sounds like a promise and a threat all in one. Another knock. Not as loud. But slower. Measured .
“Bee…”
He sounds calm now. But I know better. I know what lurks under that still surface. And I don’t know if I want to open that door or if I can stop myself.
“I’m going to give you to the count of three, little girl, to open this door,” he says. “If I get to three, I’m going to spank your ass after I kick in the door, and the outcome will be the same.”
My lips part. He wouldn’t.
“One.”
I take a step back.
“Two.”
Something reckless snaps in me and I run to my bedroom.
Though the thin walls I hear, “Three.”
The second I hear him say “three,” I slam my bedroom door and twist the lock. My breath’s coming fast and my fingers tremble as I press them to the wood, trying to listen.
Silence.
For one heartbeat. Then the unmistakable sound of wood splitting under pressure makes me yelp.
I backpedal, eyes wide. Oh my God, he’s really doing it.
I scramble toward the bed, but the sound of the front door crashing open stops me cold.
Boots thunder across the floor. His voice is low. Dangerous.
“Jo-Leigh.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My bedroom door handle jiggles once. Twice. Then?—
Bang.
He hits it with his shoulder. The cheap lock barely holds.
“You had your chance,” he growls. “Now it’s mine.”
“No, Swag!” My voice cracks. “You can’t just?—”
“Two weeks. Two damn weeks I gave you space, and you still don’t get it.”
Another slam. This time the door cracks and tilts in its frame.
“You can’t just show up and break my?—”
The door flies open. He fills the doorway, panting slightly, chest rising and falling beneath his cut. His eyes lock onto mine, and all the air leaves the room.
“You ran from me, little bee.” He steps into the room, slow and deliberate. “You hid from me.”
I stumble backward until my legs hit the bed. “You don’t own me.”
He lifts a brow. “No?”
He stalks closer. I try to bolt past him, but he’s faster, grabbing my wrist and spinning me around until my back’s against the wall. His hand braces beside my head, the other still locked around my wrist.
“You think locking a door’s going to stop me from coming for you?”
“You don’t get to do this.” My voice is shaking. “You don’t get to show up like a goddamn storm and expect me to just?—”
His lips are a breath from mine.
“I don’t expect anything. But I will take what’s mine.”
My chest rises in short bursts, every nerve in my body screaming with confusion and heat and adrenaline.
“You’re not?—”
His hand slides to my waist.
“You don’t get to decide for both of us,” he says. “You don’t get to burn me down and run.”
His voice is low. Raw. Possessive. And terrifyingly convincing. He’s crowding me. Breathing hard. I should be scared. But something sharper stirs in my chest. Anger. Lust. Reckless, stupid pride.
“Take what’s yours?” I echo, my voice dripping with challenge. “You mean like that brunette on her knees at the club? She looked pretty satisfied.”
His jaw tics.
“But I guess that’s your thing, right? Club whores who don’t talk back?”
“Jo-Leigh…” His voice is a warning.
I tilt my head. “Or is it just easier? Don’t have to think. Don’t have to feel. Just unzip and forget.”
He pushes off the wall, pacing a step back like he’s trying to rein it in.
“Guess I was stupid thinking I was anything more than a mistake you once made.”
His head whips around.
“You were never a mistake.”
I smile, slow and lethal. “Then why’d you send me away?”
That does it. One second, he’s across the room. The next, he’s slamming me back against the wall, his hand in my hair, the other gripping my hip so tight I gasp.
“You want me to be the monster you keep painting me as?” he growls against my mouth. “Keep going, little bee. See what happens.”
“You don’t scare me.”
“You should be fucking scared.”
His mouth crashes over mine like a storm. All heat. All punishment. All hunger he’s been denying and trying to bury. I kiss him back just as hard. Because I’m furious. Because I missed him. Because I hate that he still owns every piece of me.
He breaks away long enough to rasp, “Bed. Now.”
But I stay where I am, panting. “Make me.”
His eyes flash. And then I’m airborne, thrown over his shoulder with a curse as he hauls me across the room, tossing me onto the bed.
I bounce once, breath caught in my throat.
He climbs over me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand.
The other slides under my shirt, fingers trailing fire across my stomach.
“Still want to mouth off, little bee?” he murmurs, dragging his lips across my jaw.
“Only if you plan on shutting me up the same way.”
A low, rough laugh. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Not before I drive you crazy.”
His hand dips lower, lips brushing mine again, but just as he’s about to kiss me there’s a loud bang on the front door. Or what’s left of the door.
We both freeze.
Another knock and then a deep voice from outside the apartment.
“Police! Open up!”
Swag curses under his breath, pressing his forehead to mine.
“Of all the fucking times,” he mutters.
He pulls back, breath ragged, jaw clenched. I stay on the bed, heart pounding, every nerve alight, lips swollen and aching.
He stands, adjusting himself, fury written across his face. But before he leaves, he looks back at me.
“This isn’t over.”
No, it really, really isn’t.
I stay on the bed for what feels like hours even though it’s probably only minutes. My skin still burns where his hands were. My lips are swollen. My chest tight with… what? Regret? No. Longing, maybe. Confusion. Definitely that. But more than anything, dread.
I pull the blanket around me and sit there in the silence of my room, heart pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to warn me. I don’t know what just happened, not really. And I don’t know what to do with what I’m feeling.
Then I hear it. A shout. Another. Heavy boots on the stairs. I freeze, straining to hear through the thin walls. More shouting. A crash. Someone yelling “Back the hell off!” and a voice that is unmistakably Swag’s cursing at someone.
Panic claws up my throat. I leap off the bed and slip out of the room just as the front door is thrown wide open again, this time by two officers in tactical vests.
And there, just past them in the hallway, is Swag.
Handcuffed. His lip is split, jaw clenched, murder in his eyes.
He’s surrounded. Four officers are pushing him forward while two more watch his every step.
Blood trickles down the side of his face, but it’s nothing compared to the fire in his glare.
And then I see Ricky. He stands off to the side with his arms crossed, not a scratch on him, his badge gleaming like he’s the goddamn sheriff of the world.
“Man of the hour,” he drawls, stepping into Swag’s path. “Should’ve stayed in your little clubhouse, Boseman. Baton Rouge doesn’t need your kind.”
Swag doesn’t flinch. “You following her around now, Langston? Is that what this is?”
Langston’s grin tightens. “Just doing my civic duty. And making sure she’s safe.”
I step forward, unable to help myself. “What’s going on? Why are you arresting him?”
Langston doesn’t even look at me. “Raid turned up some things. Weapons, cash. Enough to ask some questions.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Swag growls. “This is about her.”
Langston leans in close, like he wants Swag to swing. “Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t like watching good girls waste themselves on bastards like you.”
Swag lunges and three officers jump in to hold him back. He’s snarling now, spitting every curse he knows, while Langston backs away with a grin on his face.
“Get him out of here,” someone barks.
They drag Swag toward the stairs. He twists at the last second and his eyes find mine.
And in them, I see it. Not hate. Not rage. Just one word unspoken: Stay.
And I don’t know if I can.
I’m still frozen in the doorway, staring after the officers dragging Swag down the stairs.
My heart is racing. My hands tremble. That’s when Ricky turns his attention to me.
The look on his face shifts like a mask slipping.
Gone are the smooth charm and smug grin.
What’s left is something colder. He steps close until I can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body.
“You should be careful who you let into your apartment, Jo-Leigh,” he says, voice low and oily. “Men like him? They don’t just ruin lives. Sometimes they don’t leave a body behind.”
I swallow hard. “He didn’t hurt me.”
He smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yet.”
I try to take a step back, but the hallway feels like it’s shrinking around me.
“And just so you know,” he adds, voice even quieter, “I’m not done watching out for you. You might think you’ve grown up and left this town behind, but I remember you. I remember everything.”
My stomach flips. There’s something in his tone that makes my skin crawl.
“You need to leave,” I say, clutching the edge of the door.
He tips his head in a mock bow. “Of course. But if you ever need someone to remind you who the real good guys are…” He pats his badge. “You know where to find me.”
And just like that, he turns and strolls off like nothing happened. The moment the stairwell door clicks shut behind him, I rush into my apartment and lean against the wall, chest heaving.
Swag might be dangerous. But Ricky? Ricky is terrifying.