Smoke

Chapter 8

Seven fucking missed messages from my favorite unknown number. Great. Just what I need right now. I brace myself as I unlock my phone. But before I settle back against the bar, I glance around and make sure everyone’s drinks are full.

My stomach knots as I read Kane’s texts. They go from unhinged to desperate to homicidal. I’m lucky he hasn’t shown up here. The last one was sent at four this morning. What a fucking psycho.

You better text me back soon, slut. Maybe I call the Sheriff. Or maybe I come over there and do the same thing to you that you did to those boys. Right after I make you suck my dick, of course. You remember how good my cum tasted, don’t you?

I grind my teeth, my blood boiling. I can’t believe I used to fuck with this guy back in the day. It was partially his fault that Hawk went to prison. Kane was the one who egged me on that night. It was his idea to get fucked up and steal Hawk’s car.

Except Kane stayed sober. But he got me drunk and high before making me drive us to the make-out spot on the hill. Then he almost choked me to death while fucking my throat in the back seat. He kept me strung out all night. The sun was barely coming up when we finally started to bead back.

I was out of it and could barely see straight.

Driving way too fast, I misjudged a hairpin turn and flipped the car into a ditch.

We crawled out, lucky to be alive, then ditched the car before anyone saw us.

When I got home, Hawk took one look at me and knew what I’d done.

He always knew when I was up to no good.

Not to mention I had cuts and bruises all over me.

By the time I fessed up and told him where the car was, it was too late. The cops were there, investigating the scene. The inside of the car was littered with pills, blow, and liquor bottles.

Hawk had a valid alibi. He could’ve easily told the cops that I stole his car. But he didn’t. He lied for me and went to prison for two years. Another thing my daddy’s never forgiven me for. Yeah, even preachers hold grudges.

Kane laughed when I told him. He said it served him right for looking at me the way he does. He was always jealous of Hawk.

I finally text Kane back after pouring another round of beers for Marv and his buddies.

For fuck’s sake, I was sleeping. Take it down a notch. I always get back to you.

The knots in my stomach tighten when I see the texting bubbles. He’s obsessed, doing nothing but waiting for me to respond. It makes me sick.

Well, maybe start setting some alarms, baby. I expect you to respond as soon as I message you. Or I’ll make good on my threats.

Fuck you, asshole.

How long are you gonna drag this out, Kane? I can’t live like this forever.

YES YOU FUCKING CAN. AND YOU WILL!

My breath hitches in response. What is it about messages in all caps that trigger instant anxiety? Am I’m gonna have to kill him too? Because I don’t think he’s going to stop. Fuck.

Whatever, Kane. Are we done for today? I got a packed bar right now.

Not so fast, Cherry pie. You owe me a pic. A special one for making me wait all fucking night. This time I want to see two fingers in your pussy. Get them in nice and deep.

I wince as I read it. I hate when he fucking calls me that. It makes me feel cheap and trashy. I look around the bar again to make sure everyone’s good.

“I gotta go to the lady’s room, Marv. Keep an eye out for me?”

He nods. “You know I got you, sweetheart.”

I opt to go upstairs to my apartment instead of using the public restroom down in the bar. I need to make sure I have total privacy for this.

I’m waiting like a chump here, Cherry.

Hold on. I told you my bar is packed. Give me a minute.

I lock the door behind me and rush to my bedroom.

The disdain I have for him rises as I take off my jeans and panties.

If Hawk knew about any of this, he’d kill me and Kane.

He’d take care of it like he always does.

But I’ve already asked him for too much.

I can’t keep running to him every time I fuck up. No. This is my mess to clean up.

I spread my legs and thrust two fingers inside my pussy. As I’m about to snap the pic, another text from him pops up.

You know what? Scratch that. Send me a video of you fingering yourself.

My stomach drops.

What the fuck, Kane? I gotta get back to work. This is going too far.

Do it right fucking now. Fifteen seconds. In and out, baby.

Fuck me. I don’t have time for this. I angle the phone between my legs and press record. I thrust my fingers deep inside, then pull them out slowly before thrusting back in. I do this like I’m on autopilot and count the seconds down in my head.

But as I get closer to hitting his time minimum, an orgasm starts to crest. I can’t help it. Every time I touch myself, I think of Hawk. I imagine I’m recording this for him.

Fuck. I know how to get myself off better than anyone. I’ve been practicing for years. I forget about the video and pump harder, my juices sloshing down my thighs as I ride my fingers. I bite my lip to stifle a moan. I will not let him hear me enjoy this. Fuck that.

My legs shake as I hit that sweet spot deep inside. Oh, fuck. I clench around my fingers and roll my hips. As my cum drips down my hand, I remember the fucking phone and hit stop on the recording.

Fuck you, Kane.

I attach the video and hit send.

In the time it takes me to wash my hands and put my clothes back on, he’s watched it.

Holy shit, Cherry. You outdid yourself. This is gonna have to be our new thing now. At least until I get you to perform for me live.

I shudder. No fucking way. Never. The last time I let him fuck me was last year. He strangled me so bad I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was going to die. That’s when I told him no more. And that’s when he decided to start blackmailing me.

I like a little rough housing during sex, but with him it was brutal. There’s no way I’m doing it again.

Not going to happen, Kane. This is all you get.

Oh, you’ll give me whatever I ask for. Just like you always do. Because you’re a fucking slut. And if you don’t, I’ll send these to your daddy and to your big brother. Yeah, I bet he’d get off on it. Sick fucking weirdo.

He’s my stepbrother, Kane. And I swear if you send anyone this video, you’ll regret it.

Nah, I don’t think I will regret it. You better lock your doors, Cherry pie. Next time you come home, I might just be waiting.

I scream and throw my phone onto the bed.

My bedroom door bursts open.

I scream again, half-expecting it to be Kane, already making good on his threat.

“What the fuck are you doing up here? You got customers asking for you,” Omen barks.

Fuck. “I-I… I’m on my period,” I lie. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment? How did you even get in?”

He towers over me, his eyes narrowing. “I made copies of your keys. We each have one. I came up here looking for you.”

“Are you joking? You can’t just make copies of my keys without asking me. Fucking hell. I have no fucking privacy anymore,” I yell as I push past him.

He stalks after me. “You should’ve thought about that before you did what you did. Now you gotta put up with us. Those are called consequences.”

I snicker as I sprint down the stairs, back toward the bar. “That’s rich coming from a criminal.”

He grabs my arm before I make it into the bar, and swings me around to face him. “No body, no crime, mama.” He pushes me flush against the wall. “I did that for you. You’re only a criminal if you get caught.”

I take a deep breath and curse myself for getting wet again. He’s hot as fuck though. Like one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen in real life. “Thank you, Omen. Would you like me to say it every day?”

He squeezes my arm harder. “Yeah. Maybe I do.”

I swallow hard and pray he doesn’t notice my lip quivering. Crammed inside this tight little space between the stairs and the door, our bodies are so fucking close together, I can feel his breath on my face.

“Can I go back to work now?”

He glares down at me for another thirty seconds before releasing my arm. “Next time, let one of us know where you’re going. It does no one any good if the bar gets robbed while you’re changing your tampon.”

I roll my eyes and snicker again. “Yeah, okay. I’ll make a mental note.”

I shirk past him and head into a barrage of angry voices caroling for more drinks. As I refill everyone’s orders and serve some new people who wandered in, I can’t help but notice Omen’s eyes on me. He watches my every move. It’s unnerving and a turn on at the same time.

The rest of the night goes by fast. I get a nice big burst of customers for happy hour and then another rush from the after-dinner crowd. By ten pm, I’m down to just a few regulars and Omen.

He perches on the corner of the bar, his head buried in his laptop. “Quit staring. If you got something to say, say it.”

I wipe the bar down next to him, scrubbing at the sticky ring marks the bottles made on the wood. “You look so fucking serious all the time. Ever smile or have fun?”

He arches an eyebrow but never lifts his gaze from the screen. “Not when I’m working. I’ve got a lot of security footage to watch.”

“Is that something you do on the regular?” I have cameras here too, but I don’t look at them unless I have a reason to.

He sighs and turns the laptop around so I can see the screen. “We had a break in the other night. Not the first one either. But dude knows where our cameras are, so he hides his face.”

I snicker. “You sure it’s a he?”

Omen glares at me, making eye contact for the first time. “No. But this is personal. And you’re the only unhinged woman we know. You the culprit, Cherry?”

“Obviously not, Om. Let me watch the video,” I snap.

The footage is grainy, but I can tell that it’s a pretty big guy, about Scar’s size, wearing a black hoodie and black pants. He keeps his back to the camera the whole time. He’s probably wearing a mask too. At least that’s what I’d do.

The guy runs at one of their semi-trucks and shoves a knife in the front tire. It takes him a few minutes to rip through the thick rubber. But he manages to flatten it along with the rest of them in a matter of minutes.

Then the guy picks something off the ground and chucks it through the window, shattering it. “What the fuck?”

“He’s throwing bricks. We have tons of them lying around for our scales,” Omen quips.

“Holy shit, he’s just destroying everything. What did he even take?” I ask, dumbfounded that one person could cause that much havoc in such a short time. And get away with it.

“Not a fucking thing. He’s not a thief, just pure chaos. A vile fucking vermin who’s only goal is to wreak havoc.” Omen reaches over the bar to help himself to a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey.

“I can get that for you, you know?” I’m not as irritated as I should be.

He nods. “I don’t need you to wait on me, mama. Just keep looking at the footage. Tell me what you see.”

I grab another shot glass and place it on the bar. To my surprise he pours me one after he does his.

When I turn my attention back to the screen, I see the guy’s sleeve slip up for a second, revealing a tiny peek of ink. “Can you zoom in?”

Omen nods and enlarges the frame.

My stomach drops into my ass. I grip the edge of the bar to keep my knees from swaying. The visible part of his tattoo is the tip of a sword pointing toward his wrist. What Omen doesn’t know is that the rest of it goes all the way up his forearm and past the crook of his elbow.

Fuck.

He’s right. This is personal. And it has everything to do with me. I’m going to fucking kill Kane.

I loosen my white-knuckle grip and down the whiskey.

He pours me another. “You know who that is?”

I can’t fucking tell them the truth. Not yet. I need to fix this first. Fuck. I shake my head. “Sorry. Looks like every other drunk asshole I’ve seen in here.”

He glares at me as he snaps the laptop shut. “You know what we do to rats, Cherry? We cut them open and string them up by their entrails.”

I swallow hard. “Sounds messy.”

He nods and pours himself another whiskey. “But you know what I hate more than rats? Liars. When I find out who’s been lying to us about all this, blood will fucking spill. I promise you that.”

Omen doesn’t trust me to begin with. I just hope I didn’t give anything away in my face. If he suspects I know something, I’m fucked. I will tell them. But not yet. I need to have a word with Kane first.

I hold up my glass. “Well, cheers to everyone getting what they deserve.”

He doesn’t clank his glass to mine. Instead, he knocks it back and slams it on the bar. “I’m gonna finish my work upstairs while you close down the bar. If that’s all right with you, that is?”

Wow. Is he actually asking me this time? Now I know something is up. He’s being too nice. “Yeah, sure. Just keep your nose out of my panty drawer.”

He snickers. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I’m not in the least bit interested.”

Maybe he’s finally warming up to me. He can hate me all he wants, but I’m not blind to the way he looks at me. Deep down there’s a part of him that aches for my lips on his.

The thought of him upstairs in my apartment actually stirs something really fucking primal in me. But he’s stubborn. I could walk past him naked and he wouldn’t break. Not yet at least.

I reach under the bar for my phone when I realize I left it upstairs. I threw it on the bed and never picked it back up after Omen came in and nearly gave me a heart attack.

Fuck.

Omen.

He’s upstairs with my phone. And every single vile text message I’ve had with Kane in the last three weeks.