Honor
Page 8
I was never ashamed of being a stripper. I was proud of how long I lasted, more like thrived, in the Point, but it was Nassir ripping his shirt off to hold it to my bleeding shoulder and looking at me like I was the only thing in the world he cared about, that really made me feel like I had to leave. That look was enough to make me give him everything I had once and for all, and if I did that, there would be nothing left of me. I would just be some pretty girl tied to a dangerous and powerful man, and when his life turned on him like it was bound to do, I would be left alone with nothing. That wasn’t something I could bear. So of course I left, and now I had sent him away, making sure he knew I would never be going back to him or that life.
It was enough to keep me up most of the night, hating the girl who looked back at me in the mirror as I brushed my boring and nondescript hair the next morning. I groaned when I pulled out my work shoes and scowled at the drawerful of T-shirts, folded-up jeans, and yoga pants when I started to get dressed for my shift. Normally, I found all of these basic things comforting and calming; what I wore was a solid costume and the girl that wore it served me well. But for some reason, today she made me furious. Somewhat defiantly, I pulled on the frilliest, most see-through, sexiest, completely nonfunctional underwear I had brought with me from my old life, under the drab garb. Instantly the part of me that had spent so many years being Honor sparked with signs of life. I hated how good it felt, but I didn’t change my outfit. No, I took it a step further and slicked on some lip gloss that was also buried in the back of a drawer. It was the closest I had come to dolling up or appealing to my own vanity in what felt like forever.
Refusing to acknowledge how deeply Nassir’s visit rattled me, I headed the short distance to the diner, prepared to immerse myself back into my routine. There was absolutely nothing wrong with slinging greasy food to hipsters. It was a perfectly acceptable way to make a living until I figured out what I wanted to do with my sizable savings from my old life and the chances of catching a bullet or falling for an enigmatic and mysterious crime boss were almost nil. I was happy-ish here. I was secure here. I didn’t have to fight to survive here. Nassir was right: there was no challenge and that’s what I wanted. I had earned a break after all the Point and he had put me through.
Since I worked the morning shift, I got to the diner just as the sun was coming up over the mountains. It was really early and the parking lot was empty like it was every single day. But for some reason, today it seemed even emptier. I locked the car door behind me and made my way across the asphalt, my mind still stuck on my surprise visitor from yesterday. Once again I was reminded that I had lost my edge, that I had gone soft, when hard hands grabbed my arms from behind and spun me around, almost knocking me off my feet.
I gasped in surprise and jerked myself away from the grasping hands. I had seen the guy around before. He liked to hang out in front of the diner and beg for change. Usually the cops chased him off and sent him on his way, and usually, if I thought about it, I would make him a box of goodies when the kitchen switched over from the breakfast menu to lunch. He had never spoken to me, and I was stunned he put his hands on me now.
He lurched forward, his eyes a little crazy and his hands outstretched as I stumbled back another step.
“Hey, buddy. Knock that shit off. I don’t have anything for you.”
His eyes were wide in his dirty face and I could smell his rancid breath as he stumbled closer and closer to me. I didn’t know what was wrong with him, but when he reared back and took an actual swing at me with his closed fist, I had had enough. I shoved him away from me, and when he stumbled and fell back on his butt, I put my hands on my hips and glowered down at him.
“What in the hell is your problem? You do realize that this is a restaurant filled with cops, don’t you? Do you want to get hauled off to jail?”
He swore at me and the next thing I knew a rock came flying at my head. At first I thought it was just a little pebble, but suddenly I was on the ground looking up at the early-morning sky and I could feel blood leaking down across my face. I blinked to try to get my bearings when a heavy kick thudded into my side. The homeless guy loomed over me, looked like he wanted to say something, but when I went to pick myself up off the ground, he took off running.
My head was throbbing. I could tell by the amount of blood oozing that I had a nasty gash and my ribs were screaming from the blow. What in the hell? This wasn’t supposed to happen here. Denver was supposed to be my sanctuary. If I was going to get jumped in the parking lot walking to work, I might as well just go back home . . . where it would never happen because no one messed with the girl that Nassir Gates had claimed as his own.
I rubbed the back of my hand across my bloody forehead and frowned in the direction the homeless guy had taken off in. It was a random and completely unprovoked attack. It was almost like someone had put the guy up to it. I groaned as I climbed to my feet and dusted off the back of my jeans. I would bet a million dollars someone had put the homeless guy up to jumping me.
I knew my devil never played fair and that he was capable of doing anything . . . regardless of the outcome, to get his own way. Pushing didn’t work. Tempting didn’t work. So he had resorted to trying to scare me home. The prick. I was probably going to have another scar to go with the one on my chest.
Too bad he didn’t know the only thing in the world I was actually afraid of was him.
Chapter 2
Nassir
“Surprised to see you flying solo, boss. I figured that even if she told you to take a hike, you woulda hauled her back over your shoulder.”
The light in the office gleamed off Chuck’s bald head and made his ebony skin glimmer as he chuckled at me. I shoved my hands through my long hair and sighed.
“I thought about it. She’s dug in, and right now there’s no shaking her loose.”
“You’ve been paying that PI in Colorado to keep an eye on her. He didn’t tell you any of that?”
I sighed again and curled my fingers into my hair. “He did. He told me she has a routine, keeps to herself, and seems to be doing all right for herself. All I heard was that she’s slipped into a predictable pattern, and that makes her an easy target. I thought seeing me would shake her up.”
Chuck grunted and unfolded his massive frame from the love seat he dwarfed. He smoothed his silk tie down the front of his shirt and tugged on its pressed cuffs. I knew for a fact the cuff links in the sleeves were sporting lots of flawless diamonds surrounded by real gold. The man was a snappy dresser, which was just another reason I had no trouble letting him represent me and my business interests.
It was enough to keep me up most of the night, hating the girl who looked back at me in the mirror as I brushed my boring and nondescript hair the next morning. I groaned when I pulled out my work shoes and scowled at the drawerful of T-shirts, folded-up jeans, and yoga pants when I started to get dressed for my shift. Normally, I found all of these basic things comforting and calming; what I wore was a solid costume and the girl that wore it served me well. But for some reason, today she made me furious. Somewhat defiantly, I pulled on the frilliest, most see-through, sexiest, completely nonfunctional underwear I had brought with me from my old life, under the drab garb. Instantly the part of me that had spent so many years being Honor sparked with signs of life. I hated how good it felt, but I didn’t change my outfit. No, I took it a step further and slicked on some lip gloss that was also buried in the back of a drawer. It was the closest I had come to dolling up or appealing to my own vanity in what felt like forever.
Refusing to acknowledge how deeply Nassir’s visit rattled me, I headed the short distance to the diner, prepared to immerse myself back into my routine. There was absolutely nothing wrong with slinging greasy food to hipsters. It was a perfectly acceptable way to make a living until I figured out what I wanted to do with my sizable savings from my old life and the chances of catching a bullet or falling for an enigmatic and mysterious crime boss were almost nil. I was happy-ish here. I was secure here. I didn’t have to fight to survive here. Nassir was right: there was no challenge and that’s what I wanted. I had earned a break after all the Point and he had put me through.
Since I worked the morning shift, I got to the diner just as the sun was coming up over the mountains. It was really early and the parking lot was empty like it was every single day. But for some reason, today it seemed even emptier. I locked the car door behind me and made my way across the asphalt, my mind still stuck on my surprise visitor from yesterday. Once again I was reminded that I had lost my edge, that I had gone soft, when hard hands grabbed my arms from behind and spun me around, almost knocking me off my feet.
I gasped in surprise and jerked myself away from the grasping hands. I had seen the guy around before. He liked to hang out in front of the diner and beg for change. Usually the cops chased him off and sent him on his way, and usually, if I thought about it, I would make him a box of goodies when the kitchen switched over from the breakfast menu to lunch. He had never spoken to me, and I was stunned he put his hands on me now.
He lurched forward, his eyes a little crazy and his hands outstretched as I stumbled back another step.
“Hey, buddy. Knock that shit off. I don’t have anything for you.”
His eyes were wide in his dirty face and I could smell his rancid breath as he stumbled closer and closer to me. I didn’t know what was wrong with him, but when he reared back and took an actual swing at me with his closed fist, I had had enough. I shoved him away from me, and when he stumbled and fell back on his butt, I put my hands on my hips and glowered down at him.
“What in the hell is your problem? You do realize that this is a restaurant filled with cops, don’t you? Do you want to get hauled off to jail?”
He swore at me and the next thing I knew a rock came flying at my head. At first I thought it was just a little pebble, but suddenly I was on the ground looking up at the early-morning sky and I could feel blood leaking down across my face. I blinked to try to get my bearings when a heavy kick thudded into my side. The homeless guy loomed over me, looked like he wanted to say something, but when I went to pick myself up off the ground, he took off running.
My head was throbbing. I could tell by the amount of blood oozing that I had a nasty gash and my ribs were screaming from the blow. What in the hell? This wasn’t supposed to happen here. Denver was supposed to be my sanctuary. If I was going to get jumped in the parking lot walking to work, I might as well just go back home . . . where it would never happen because no one messed with the girl that Nassir Gates had claimed as his own.
I rubbed the back of my hand across my bloody forehead and frowned in the direction the homeless guy had taken off in. It was a random and completely unprovoked attack. It was almost like someone had put the guy up to it. I groaned as I climbed to my feet and dusted off the back of my jeans. I would bet a million dollars someone had put the homeless guy up to jumping me.
I knew my devil never played fair and that he was capable of doing anything . . . regardless of the outcome, to get his own way. Pushing didn’t work. Tempting didn’t work. So he had resorted to trying to scare me home. The prick. I was probably going to have another scar to go with the one on my chest.
Too bad he didn’t know the only thing in the world I was actually afraid of was him.
Chapter 2
Nassir
“Surprised to see you flying solo, boss. I figured that even if she told you to take a hike, you woulda hauled her back over your shoulder.”
The light in the office gleamed off Chuck’s bald head and made his ebony skin glimmer as he chuckled at me. I shoved my hands through my long hair and sighed.
“I thought about it. She’s dug in, and right now there’s no shaking her loose.”
“You’ve been paying that PI in Colorado to keep an eye on her. He didn’t tell you any of that?”
I sighed again and curled my fingers into my hair. “He did. He told me she has a routine, keeps to herself, and seems to be doing all right for herself. All I heard was that she’s slipped into a predictable pattern, and that makes her an easy target. I thought seeing me would shake her up.”
Chuck grunted and unfolded his massive frame from the love seat he dwarfed. He smoothed his silk tie down the front of his shirt and tugged on its pressed cuffs. I knew for a fact the cuff links in the sleeves were sporting lots of flawless diamonds surrounded by real gold. The man was a snappy dresser, which was just another reason I had no trouble letting him represent me and my business interests.
