Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Journey
“Bax.”
The prospect’s head comes up from his phone.
I nod towards my sister. “Take Stella home.”
Stella’s gray eyes cut to me. “But—”
“Now, Stella.”
Her jaw tightens, and she growls like a pissed-off kitten.
I don’t know why she’s acting like a brat; she shouldn’t even be here.
I told her before I left for Saint Louis that I didn’t want her running around all over town.
She could go to work and school, and that was it.
Whoever attacked her at the theatre was still out there for fucks sake.
“Fine.” She sighs.
She crosses the apartment and pulls June into a hug. “Call me if you need anything,” she says against the side of June’s head. “I mean it. Anything. Two in the morning, I don’t care.”
“I will.” June’s eyes close as she hugs my baby sister back.
Brooklyn moves in next, and gives her friend a tight squeeze. When she finally pulls back, her sharp eyes cut to me over June’s shoulder, and the look in them is clear as day.
I’d better take care of her friend or there’ll be hell to pay.
Whatever.
I hold the door while they file out, giving Bax a look that tells him he better do his job and keep my sister safe.
He gives me a tight nod, and then they’re gone.
Scratching at my jaw, I turn around. I’m not sure what the fuck I’m supposed to do now. June is my sister’s friend, not mine. I don’t know shit about the girl.
Already crouched down by the window, garbage bag open, she picks through the destruction on the floor with careful fingers. Her long platinum hair is pulled over one shoulder, and she’s got her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
I guess on the plus side, at least she’s not crying.
Honestly, I expected more tears considering the girl’s apartment looks like a tornado ripped through it. Her stuff—and there’s a lot of it—is everywhere. Most women would be bawling their eyes out right now.
Not June Calloway. She’s cleaning it up, like she’s mastered the art of ‘just keep swimming’.
I drag a hand over my jaw and look around. It looks like a rainbow shit all over the damn room. There’s pinks and purples, and every other color you can imagine on the rugs, the baseboards; it’s literally everywhere.
“What did you need all that shit for?” I grab an empty garbage bag off the floor and crouch down on the other side of the window.
She glances over at me. “What do you mean?”
“The makeup.” I wave my hand at all the broken shit on the floor. “Why so much of it?” She’s a beautiful girl, she doesn’t need all this shit. She doesn’t need any of it, in fact. I’ve seen her fresh faced, and the girl is flawless.
She shrugs. “It’s my job.”
My brows pull together. “You sell this shit or something?”
She tilts her head to the side like she’s thinking. “I mean, in a sense. I’m a beauty influencer on Tokker. I review new products and create content that people want to see.”
I snort. “That ain’t no job, honey.”
“Yes it is.” Her eyes narrow, and her voice starts to get louder.
“I work really freaking hard, thank you very much. I spend hours and hours creating content, editing videos, promoting brands that I believe in. People go to school to learn how to do what I do.” By the time she’s finished taking me to task, her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is ragged.
I have to admit, I kinda like seeing her all riled up. It’s cute.
“All right, babe. Simmer.” I grin.
Working in silence, I pick up broken glass and chunks of foam from the shredded sofa.
There really isn’t much that’s not in some form of disrepair.
She sighs heavily and I look up. In her hand is a tube of lipstick. The cap is gone and the bullet is crushed, but I can see what’s left of the dark pink color inside.
“Rest in peace, Pink Passion.” She turns it over in her fingers, her voice going solemn like she’s speaking to a friend gone from this world too soon. “You were too good for this world.”
I blink. She can’t be for real.
With so much love and care, she sets it in the garbage bag like she’s placing it in a coffin, folds the edge of the bag down, and gives it a little pat.
What. The. Fuck.
I watch with rapt attention as she holds up another one that’s been completely snapped in half, the two pieces barely hanging together.
“And you.” She shakes her head slowly. “Rocket Fire Red. We had plans, baby. A summer concert. The Fourth of July. You deserved better than this.”
My head goes back and I bark out a laugh. This fucking girl. Holding my hand to my gut, I keep on laughing. “You’re something else, princess,” I manage.
June’s head swings around, her eyes big like she’d completely forgotten I was here.
A wide smile breaks across her face and a faint blush tints her cheeks.
The sight of her, right now, in this moment, breaks something open in my chest. Magnificent. “You’re beautiful.”
“I…” She bites her lip. “Thanks.”
What the fuck? “You’re beautiful?”
I clear my throat and look back at the floor.
No. Nope. Hell no. Don’t even think about it, asshole. She’s Stella’s friend for crying out loud.
I’ve got to get the fuck out of here. Shoving down the idea of dicking down my baby sisters bestie, I dig out my phone and scroll to Cyber’s number.
He picks up on the second ring.
“Yo.”
“Tell me you got something.” For the love of the Gods, please. I have got to get the fuck out of here.
“Working on it.” I can hear the clacking of his fingers on the keys in the background and what sounds like somebody else typing faster. “Whoever this is, they’re not stupid. VPN, burner emails, new accounts every time she blocks one. The trail goes cold every single time.”
“Every time?”
“Every time.” He pauses. “We’ll get them, though. Just might take a little time.”
My brows go up. “We?”
“Frankie’s helping me with this one.”
I snort. “Bet Bane was happy about that.”
Cyber snorts. “He’ll get over it.”
He will.
Moving to the kitchen, I lower my voice. “How long do you think this is gonna take?”
“A few days, maybe. This guy’s careful, but even careful people make mistakes. We’ll find something.”
“Good. Hit me up when you do.”
“Will do.”
I hang up and pocket the phone, turning to find June watching me with curious eyes. She looks away, but not fast enough. I already caught her checking me out.
My ego swells a little, and I don’t even try to stomp it down.
“What?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Nothing.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and I catch a glimpse of a tiny heart tattoo there.
Look at that. Princess has ink.
Before I can ask her about it, the phone sitting on the bar in front of me starts ringing. I glance down and see MOM lit up on the screen. She rushes over and her face blanks, a wall slamming down so fast I almost miss the flash of something—anger, hurt, aggravation?—in her eyes.
June hits the button on the side of the phone and declines the call without a word.
My brows go up. “You can take that if you need to.”
“I’m good,” she says with finality before going back to cleaning up.
O-kay. It’s not my business, but not gonna lie, it sits wrong with me.
If my mom were still here, wild horses couldn’t keep me from picking up her call.
I was eighteen when I lost both my parents, and there’s not a single goddamn day I wouldn’t give everything I have to hear my mom’s voice one more time.
A heavy knock on the door has us both freezing. I motion for her to stay back and move to the door, peering through the peephole.
City.
I swing the door open. “Yeah?”
The prospect holds out a black bag. “For you.”
I pop a brow. “What is this?”
The prospect shrugs. “Don’t know. Tacoma just said bring it over here.”
I take the bag with a nod. “Thanks.”
Without another word, I close the door and head back into the apartment.
“Do you guys ever say goodbye?” June asks, amusement in her voice. “Or is being rude to the baby bikers part of the whole hazing process?”
A chuckle escapes me. “Baby bikers?”
She shrugs.
That’s actually pretty fucking accurate.
I unzip the bag and peer inside. Clean clothes, a toothbrush, and a box of condoms. “Jesus.”
“What is it?” June stands, wiping her hands on the pockets of her denim cutoffs. The movement draws my eyes to her long, tanned legs.
Jesus Christ.
“Uh… Nothin’. Prez just sent over some stuff.” And some condoms if you’re in the mood. I don’t say that last part, though. Instead, I hitch the bag onto my shoulder and nod to the bathroom door. “Mind if I use your shower?”
Her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. Damn, she blushes a lot. It’s kind of hot.
“Yeah, sure. Mi casa es su casa and all that.” She points over her shoulder at the door behind her. “Bathroom’s through there. Towels are under the sink.”
I nod my thanks and head for the bathroom.
It’s exactly what you expect in these tiny loft apartments—tiny, white, and since the girl who lives here thinks she’s a fairy princess, it’s covered in pink girly shit.
Body wash, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, sprays, creams. The shower has not one, but three of those poofy sponge things in different colors hanging from a hook.
I swat one with my hand. “What the fuck is one person supposed to do with three of these things?”
Women.
Shaking my head, I strip off my clothes, not even bothering to wait for the water to heat up before stepping under the spray. The shock of cold water feels good, helping clear my head.
I open the first bottle of body wash and inhale the scent. Strawberries. Opening another bottle, I breathe in vanilla and coconut, and my cock twitches. It smells just like her. Squirting some in my hands, I start to lather up.
The image of June in her pink tank top, nipples poking against the fabric, coffee dripping down her chest, between her tits—I look down at my cock. He’s standing at attention and ready to go.
I wrap my hand around the velvety member and stroke. I know it’s fucked up. I shouldn’t be beating my meat to thoughts of my sister’s best friend. For fucks sake, I’m ten years older than her.
But I can’t stop.
Closing my eyes, I imagine her on her knees in front of me, those big blue eyes looking up, those full lips stretched around my cock. I pump faster, gritting my teeth to stay quiet. I picture her tits bouncing as I fuck her, her head thrown back, that long blonde hair flowing down her back.
“Fuck.” With a grunt, I come harder than I have in years, shooting thick ropes all over the shower wall. The water washes it away, but the relief is short-lived.
What the fuck am I doing? Not even two hours ago, I was fucking Amy.
I scrub a hand over my face, suddenly disgusted with myself. This girl has had her place broken into, her shit destroyed, and she’s got some psycho stalking her. Yet here I am, jacking off to thoughts of her in the shower.
I quickly finish washing up and shut off the water. Grabbing a fluffy pink towel from under the sink, I dry off and pull on the clean pair of jeans.
When I step out of the bathroom, June’s standing at the kitchen counter, staring at the mug in her hands.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep,” she squeaks, refusing to look at me. “Fine.”
Well, shit. She heard me.
My lips twitch, and I have to fight back the urge to grin. Part of me wants to see how red she’d get if I told her exactly what I was thinking about in there. The part that’s not a total asshole shuts that thought down fast.
“Made you some coffee,” she says, finally lifting her head. “Oh.”
Her eyes rake across my bare chest. “I—” she clears her throat. “I wasn’t sure how you take it, so...”
“Black’s fine.” I stroll over and take the mug, our fingers brushing.
Her breath catches. “I, uh—” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I cleared a space for you over there.” She points to the spot on the floor right next to her bed where she’s made a pallet out of a fuzzy pink blanket and a satin pillow. “It’s not much, sorry.”
I wave off the apology. “It’s fine, babe. Thanks.”
She nods, then hurries past me to the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click.
I walk over and carefully drop down on the makeshift bed, sipping the coffee.
It's good. Strong.
Setting the cup on the nightstand, I lie back on the pillow. A fresh wave of vanilla and coconut hits my nose, and I have to adjust my jeans, willing my dick to behave.
Fuck my life.
This is going to be a long fucking night.