Kylee had cried every fucking time, she tried to hide it but I could tell. If I tried to cover up what happened, not tell her if I was really hurt, she would be furious with me for days. It was bound to freak her the hell out to watch me willingly fighting. If I’d done a number on her at the Italian joint, I’d just sealed it when she saw me in the cage. I kept telling myself it was for the best. She needed to see it. Needed to know I wasn’t ever going to be good for her in any way. If only my fucking chest didn’t feel like someone had ripped that shit open and poured acid on it, I might could believe it.
Chapter 5
Raising my head off my pillow, I groaned. The hammering sound that woke me not letting up in the least. It took a couple of seconds to filter into the alcohol soaked grey mass inside my skull that the horrific noise was someone pounding on the front door of the apartment.
I got to a sitting position, my feet sliding out of the bed to touch the floor and pain skittered over me, my muscles and bones protesting. Matt and I had come home after the fights. I managed to do him a solid and not hit the VIP section of Cellar Door but we had polished off a bottle and half of bourbon between the two of us and I was feeling it…along with a bad case of dehydration.
I shook my head slowly trying to clear it of sleep and chanced a quick glance at my cell. It was 6:30 in the fucking morning. Who the hell was banging on the front door at this time of the day? And why hadn’t they fucking stopped yet?
Grunting, I got vertical, pulled on a pair of shorts to cover myself and lurched towards my bedroom door, my body stiff from the fighting the night before, my mouth dryer than the Sahara. I definitely was in need of a good stretch and so thirsty that a drought warning could be called.
Shuffling down the hall, I got to the front door, gripped the knob and jerked it open, none too happy that someone felt the need to be beating on it right then.
“Where the fuck’s the fire!” I was tired, sore and hungry as hell and whoever disturbed me was on my shit list. In the top fucking spot no less.
It took me a moment; two slow blinks and another head shake to register who was at the door after I ripped it open.
“What the hell do you want Shag?” I leaned against the metal frame, refusing to give room for him to pass into my apartment, my sanctuary.
It figured it would be one of my pop’s friends beating down my fucking door at ass crack of dawn. “You know what, don’t answer that. Just fuck off. I don’t have a thing for him.” Only time that breeder ever reached out to me, was to try to squeeze me for some cash. He’d stopped trying lately but wasn’t above sending one of his so called friends by to give a sob story of some kind or another. Pop’s had longed passed being able to afford his alcohol habit, especially when he’d gotten fired the last time and hadn’t found a job since. The only reason he still had the house was because the damn thing was already paid for.
I was in mid swing of slamming the door shut when Shag palmed it to keep it from shutting all the way. It wasn’t that Shag was a complete douche, but he was friends with my pop. Therefore; no friend of mine and it showed in my tone. “Dude, back the fuck up off me. I told you, I got nothing for him.”
Shag’s head shook back and forth like he thought I was ignorant or he pitied me for some reason, the thought causing my teeth to clench tightly. I didn’t need this shit this early in the morning.
“Thought you’d want to know boy that your dad died last night. Ran his truck into a tree.” With that, Shag bounded away from the door and got back in his truck, pulling out of the parking lot quick enough to catch a wheel, the tire squealing before I could speak, not that I planned too.
A sharp intake of breath was pulled in from behind me, my head swung towards the sound to see Matt standing behind me. He was gripping
Chapter 5
Raising my head off my pillow, I groaned. The hammering sound that woke me not letting up in the least. It took a couple of seconds to filter into the alcohol soaked grey mass inside my skull that the horrific noise was someone pounding on the front door of the apartment.
I got to a sitting position, my feet sliding out of the bed to touch the floor and pain skittered over me, my muscles and bones protesting. Matt and I had come home after the fights. I managed to do him a solid and not hit the VIP section of Cellar Door but we had polished off a bottle and half of bourbon between the two of us and I was feeling it…along with a bad case of dehydration.
I shook my head slowly trying to clear it of sleep and chanced a quick glance at my cell. It was 6:30 in the fucking morning. Who the hell was banging on the front door at this time of the day? And why hadn’t they fucking stopped yet?
Grunting, I got vertical, pulled on a pair of shorts to cover myself and lurched towards my bedroom door, my body stiff from the fighting the night before, my mouth dryer than the Sahara. I definitely was in need of a good stretch and so thirsty that a drought warning could be called.
Shuffling down the hall, I got to the front door, gripped the knob and jerked it open, none too happy that someone felt the need to be beating on it right then.
“Where the fuck’s the fire!” I was tired, sore and hungry as hell and whoever disturbed me was on my shit list. In the top fucking spot no less.
It took me a moment; two slow blinks and another head shake to register who was at the door after I ripped it open.
“What the hell do you want Shag?” I leaned against the metal frame, refusing to give room for him to pass into my apartment, my sanctuary.
It figured it would be one of my pop’s friends beating down my fucking door at ass crack of dawn. “You know what, don’t answer that. Just fuck off. I don’t have a thing for him.” Only time that breeder ever reached out to me, was to try to squeeze me for some cash. He’d stopped trying lately but wasn’t above sending one of his so called friends by to give a sob story of some kind or another. Pop’s had longed passed being able to afford his alcohol habit, especially when he’d gotten fired the last time and hadn’t found a job since. The only reason he still had the house was because the damn thing was already paid for.
I was in mid swing of slamming the door shut when Shag palmed it to keep it from shutting all the way. It wasn’t that Shag was a complete douche, but he was friends with my pop. Therefore; no friend of mine and it showed in my tone. “Dude, back the fuck up off me. I told you, I got nothing for him.”
Shag’s head shook back and forth like he thought I was ignorant or he pitied me for some reason, the thought causing my teeth to clench tightly. I didn’t need this shit this early in the morning.
“Thought you’d want to know boy that your dad died last night. Ran his truck into a tree.” With that, Shag bounded away from the door and got back in his truck, pulling out of the parking lot quick enough to catch a wheel, the tire squealing before I could speak, not that I planned too.
A sharp intake of breath was pulled in from behind me, my head swung towards the sound to see Matt standing behind me. He was gripping
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