5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
N az’s discomfort in only his lightweight undershirt drove him back to the warehouse.
Most of the crew holed up in the trailers at night. Naz passed Rocks on the way, and the giant of a man gave him a wide berth before settling along the fence. Rocks was a night owl, so he kept an eye out while the rest of the crew slept.
Julio waited for Naz in the warehouse. At least it’d been long enough that his pupils were no longer pinpricks.
Julio sighed when Naz stared at him.“Look, I was all fucked up. I shouldn’t have come at you like that,” he rushed out with a grimace.
A nod or a head shake didn’t feel right, but the shrug Naz ended up giving him wasn’t much better.
Julio snorted. “Shit, man, you really don’t say anything. Maybe that’s why that look you can give is so effective. Jefe was right about you.”
Naz didn’t give a shit what Julio’s cartel father had to say about him, but Ramiro would probably be pleased. He could charge them more.
Julio stepped closer, his hand reaching for Naz’s shoulder and squeezing it. “I can’t have you doing that again, though,” he warned.
The contact on Naz’s skin made his stomach muscles tighten, and he shrugged Julio off.
Julio stepped back, looking wary. “We good?”
Naz nodded. It was the fastest way to be left alone.
Julio chuckled. “She’s a piece of work, isn’t she? Making the two of us fight?” He shook his head. “Too bad. She has fantastic cunt. Not that it matters to you.” He lifted an eyebrow. “It doesn’t, does it? You don’t want her?”
Naz shook his head in a jerk of motion.
The last of Julio’s tension faded.
Once Julio left, Naz found his duffel bag and dragged on a spare shirt. Then he settled against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. At least it wasn’t the same wall as before. Remembering the way Meg had looked enveloped in his shirt didn’t help him sleep. He didn’t think sleep would come at all, but the drained feeling that he often felt after battling back his memories finally let him close his eyes. Exhaustion took over.
So did his nightmares.
He jerked awake, his heart racing from the weight pressing into his shoulder.
Meg rested against him, her eyes closed. The jolt of his body hadn’t woken her. Curly, brown hair hid her face and tickled his skin below the sleeve of his shirt.
She was still wearing his other one, not that she had much of a choice. She could have changed into that flannel from before. Naz hadn’t seen it tied around her waist lately. Wondering what had happened to it was a nice distraction from the warmth creeping inside his chest.
He should have hated having her pressed against him.
He didn’t.
The warehouse had no windows, and the rolling door had been shut for the night. He pulled out his phone. It was about an hour before dawn, but he doubted he’d get back to sleep.
Naz brought up his texts. Diego’s name was listed first because the activity was most recent, but it wasn’t Diego he owed a heads-up to.
He tapped on the next name down. Ramiro Rodriguez still made him nervous even after five years, but Naz wouldn’t be working for him if he didn’t trust him. While Diego worried about Naz, Ramiro was all business with him.
Naz appreciated that.
But Ramiro also got bent out of shape over his lack of communication, so he sent off a text.
‘Had an episode.’
The immediate dots popping up made Naz wonder, not for the first time, if Ramiro ever slept. No matter when he contacted him, the man responded.
‘Need back up?’
‘No.’
‘Any little girls?’
Ramiro and Diego said “little girls” when they meant bodies. Naz didn’t fully get it, but he’d heard the cartel use the same terminology.
‘No.’
‘That’s progress.’
Heat crawled up Naz’s neck. Ramiro and Diego had both cleaned up plenty of his messes. Neither ever reamed him out about it. They just helped take care of it.
‘Need something new?’
Ramiro was offering to pull him. Naz considered it. Sex wasn’t nonexistent when working for the cartel, but the drug-running portion of the trade tended to keep it to a minimum, as long as Naz passed up the protection gigs at the clubs or bars.
With Meg around, he’d been exposed more frequently to sex, which wasn’t good for him. He shouldn’t be hesitating.
His gaze drifted down to Meg’s legs, stretched in front of her and barely touching his. The striped cloth shoes covered her feet. Her hand rested over her thigh, which his shirt covered. The yellow Post-it tucked under her finger was bright against the black of the shirt.
Curiosity dug into him, and he pulled the square paper free, careful not to touch her.
She’d written, ‘I’m sorry.’
He wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. Running to him? Naz could taste her fear the night before, a familiar taste. It wasn’t just the sex; it was the panic she’d let loose that had triggered him.
The pressure against his shoulder felt like a heavy weight.
‘Not yet,’ he texted to Ramiro.
Naz dropped the phone to his lap, the small puffs of Meg’s breath teasing at his neck as she continued to sleep.
J ulio stared at Naz’s shirt on Meg, where she sat on the edge of the table while the rest of the crew finished sorting the drugs. No one mentioned testing any that day.
Naz had pretended to be asleep when Meg woke up, and he’d been relieved when she left on her own a little after dawn. She’d stayed close to Julio all day so far.
His shirt was way too big on her, one side baring most of her shoulder down to the slope of her breast, showcasing her bronzed, smooth skin more appealingly than when she’d worn the crop top. Naz didn’t understand it, but he tried to keep his gaze away from her.
She leaned forward, the material gaping. Miguel whistled, and Meg slapped a hand on the cloth before looking at Julio with wide eyes.
She sat up straighter before sliding her hand down Julio’s arm. “I had more clothes at my ex’s place. I know you’re busy, but do you think we could go pick up my stuff?”
Her voice sounded different to Naz, hesitant, but he refused to look, helping to stack boxes of pill bottles instead.
The laugh she let out was huskier than the bright giggle he’d heard from her before. “I promise to let you rip some of it off me,” she said to Julio.
Across from Naz, Miguel stood transfixed, his eyes locked on her as if he could absorb her into his body.
Naz shoved a box toward him, the drag of it pulling Miguel’s gaze back to the table.
Julio’s frown deepened as he studied the shirt she was wearing. “I told you to wear one of my shirts.”
“We already tried that. You dragged it off me again.” She hopped off the table to stand in front of him, her hands sliding down his chest. “Besides, it was just as big on me.” Her hand cupped the front of his jeans. “Even bigger.”
Julio hummed in his throat as she stroked him, and Naz decided another perimeter check was in order.
“Fine, baby,” he heard Julio say behind him before he shouted, “Naz! Take my girl to get her clothes.”
Naz froze halfway across the warehouse. He turned, lifting his eyebrow.
Meg planted a swift kiss to Julio’s lips. “Thank you, thank you!” She started to rush toward Naz, but Julio grabbed her arm.
He nodded to Miguel. “Go with them in case there’s trouble from what we did.”
Miguel nodded, looking eager.
Meg’s smile fell when her eyes darted to Miguel, then dropped to her feet.
Julio stroked her arm. “Don’t be long,” he warned before letting her go.
Naz was closest to the exit and led the way outside. The thought of being in the car with the two of them gave him a headache. Closed-in vehicles reminded him of being locked in a cage. He strode to his motorcycle instead.
“No can do, Ignacio,” Miguel said, jogging to catch up.
Naz hated the way his full name sounded. The only people that had used it before, he’d wanted to kill, very slowly.
“Your name’s Ignacio?” Meg asked, coming up beside him and fiddling with the tilted handlebar on the motorcycle.
Naz felt strange watching her hand curl around the handle while she said his name. He’d expected to hate hearing it from her just as much as he did everyone else, but it sounded different from how the men had said it. Softer, maybe, and pleasant.
Miguel scowled at her. “Aren’t we getting your stuff? A motorcycle won’t get the job done.”
Naz nodded, waved his hand toward the nearest car, and held up two fingers.
“Two vehicles?” Miguel considered. “Yeah. That’s smart. We can split up if shit goes down.” He moved closer, his arm snaking around Meg’s waist, pulling Naz’s shirt tighter against her. “You’re coming with me, baby. Just the two of us.”
They were both too close to Naz’s motorcycle.
Meg slapped at Miguel’s hand. “I’m Julio’s. You think he’d want you touching me?”
Miguel laughed but lifted his hand in surrender. “Sure, sure.” He turned to the car, a bounce in his stride. “Ride up front with me. That way I’ll be close if something happens.”
Naz was tired of talking about it, and he reached for his helmet.
Meg’s gaze darted to the car, then back to Naz. “But I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle.” She sent him a tentative smile. “Could I ride with you, Ignacio?”
His hands tightened on the helmet.
“He goes by Naz,” Miguel snapped, jerking the passenger door open. “Now get in the damn car.”
She kept her back to him, her eyes pleading with Naz. The breeze blew the scent of her fear to him.
He slid his helmet onto her head, carefully buckling the straps.
“For fuck’s sake.” Miguel slammed the car door shut and stalked around to the driver’s side.
The helmet was too big, but it would have to do. It was important to protect the head. He usually still did, despite his brain already being damaged before he’d ever started riding.
He tugged on the strap to make sure it was snug enough on Meg’s head, then climbed onto the motorcycle, kicking up the stand and balancing it straight with his feet.
After she scrambled on behind him, her front plastered to his back and her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, he realized he hadn’t thought through this decision. The bike purred beneath them as he waited for some kind of freak-out at having her so close, but it never came.
Miguel’s wheels spun in the dirt before the car jolted forward.
Meg gripped his stomach tighter when Naz accelerated, even though he eased into it. He followed behind the car, but the distance spread when Miguel acted like it was a race. That was just stupid. Speed brought attention, even if the cops weren’t trolling for speeders in the neighborhoods they stuck to.
Naz already knew where to go, the same as Miguel. Julio made sure they knew where all the dealers were based out of, in case they ever had to settle up by force.
Meg’s arms never loosened, but she leaned into his back more. Any words she said were carried off by the wind.
Naz enjoyed riding a motorcycle. It let him concentrate on his control over the machine without dwelling on anything else.
He couldn’t fully forget the woman pressed up behind him, but his hyper-focus faded to a duller awareness as he navigated to where she used to live.
The dealer’s apartment before was one with outside stairs and a door facing the street. There was no hiding their entrance, but Miguel refused to wait outside and keep a lookout, saying they just needed to be quick.
Meg’s grip on Naz’s arm made it obvious she didn’t want him waiting outside either.
From the state of the small apartment, it looked like the dealer had used more drugs than what he sold. Empty bottles and bags were scattered around the filthy coffee table, along with bongs and needles.
Meg released him, striding toward the back room. When she would have pushed the door shut behind her, Miguel caught it.
“We’re keeping an eye on you,” he snapped.
She rolled her eyes. “I was going to change.”
Naz hovered at the edge of the living room. The filth of the place was making his skin crawl.
Miguel grinned at her. “So change.”
Her eyes narrowed, but a smirk tilted her lips. “What, you want a show?” Her hands flirted with the hem of Naz’s borrowed shirt. “Just remember. I belong to Julio.” She stripped the shirt over her head.
Naz hadn’t thought about a woman’s body before, but he didn’t hate the way Meg’s breasts looked. The color of her dusky nipples blended well with her bronzed skin. He dragged his gaze up so he wouldn’t be staring at them and locked eyes with Meg. When she stripped off her shorts, she stared past Miguel and right at him.
She wasn’t completely naked. She still wore the cotton underwear he’d purchased for her at the convenience store.
“Fuck, looking at you makes me so hard,” Miguel groaned.
Her gaze flew to him, and her smile widened. “No touching,” she reminded him, turning her back to them to cross the room. She bent to rifle through a backpack there, and Miguel stomped toward her, grabbing her arm.
Her soft cry had Naz surging forward, but he caught himself in the doorway when Miguel shoved her toward the bed before bending down to search through the bag himself.
“I’m not letting you pull a gun on me,” he said.
Meg lay where she fell on the bed, her fake smile washed away, replaced by a trembling lip as she rubbed at her reddened arm.
Naz wondered how many fingerprints Meg’s skin had been bruised by. It seemed like everyone wanted to grab her arm.
Miguel stood afterward, whirling back to her. He froze as he saw her sprawled on the bed, her legs open and her body flat on the mattress except for that raised arm she was rubbing.
Her legs snapped together as she laughed, the hitch in it making it sound forced. “Don’t even think about it.”
Miguel threw the backpack on the bed. “Get dressed,” he muttered as he stomped to the doorway, and Naz stepped aside so he could pass.
Meg quickly began dragging on a pair of jeans.
Miguel thumped his head against the wall outside the bedroom, wearing a pained expression. “We could do it,” he murmured.
Naz’s eyes narrowed.
Miguel sneered at him. “I know you want to. She’s such a fucking cocktease, isn’t she?”
The voices were back, their harsh words echoing in Naz’s mind.
“Julio keeps going on and on about how great her pussy is. As long as we’re both in on it, we can feel that fluttering cunt for ourselves.” Miguel grinned at him. “That puta likes to fuck. I doubt she’ll complain, but if she did, it’d be her word against ours.”
The tunnel vision was taking over, and Naz’s hand closed into a fist against his side.
Miguel snickered. “Or just mine. You wouldn’t say a fucking thing, and I’ll say she’s causing drama again. Like she did yesterday.”
Naz pounced, his fist slamming into Miguel’s face.
He wasn’t sure how many times he’d hit him before his vision returned.
Meg clutched at his arm, refusing to be shaken off. “Stop! Please stop.”
Her backpack swung against him, drawing his gaze away from the man he still wanted to pummel.
The sight of his shirt tucked inside the bag, as if she meant to take it with her, helped him step away, even with the voices still clamoring in his head.
Miguel groaned in pain on the floor, pressing a hand against his bleeding nose.
“None of us wants to piss off Julio,” she said, her hand moving down to squeeze Naz’s smeared fist. “I know what he was saying, and it’s not worth it. I’m used to it. Even if he’d fucked me, I would have enjoyed it.” She shrugged, releasing him and walking to the door with her back straight.
“For fuck’s sake,” Miguel mumbled with a glare.
Naz reached down, hauling him to his feet and shoving him into the wall. He slowly shook his head, too wound up to form the word he’d said most in his life.
Miguel lifted his other hand in surrender. “I got the message,” he said nasally as he continued trying to staunch the blood with his hand.
Naz released him and followed Meg to the door. His hand was shaking, making it harder to cinch the helmet on her tight enough. He tested it, then climbed on the motorcycle, his skin crawling even before she wrapped her body around him.
He didn’t wait for Miguel to make his way down. The asshole could return on his own. Naz sped up faster than before, needing the wind to drown out the lingering jeers in his head.