Page 9

Chapter Eight

Lu

My car isn’t in the parking lot of the factory when I arrive at work. I scan for it as soon as I step off the bus. It’s been over a week since it’s been gone. I don’t know if it was towed to a junkyard and I’ve lost the only shelter I had left, or if it’s been taken to a shop. And the thought of having to pay for that makes me sick to my stomach, so I avoid Jeff, and Brad for good measure, and throw myself into my job, scrubbing everything with extra zeal as if my stellar cleaning ability will make me worth all the trouble I’ve caused.

Oh, how the urinals do shine. Groaning, I head to the lobby, skipping the break room for now. It’s not like Jeff can’t see me from his desk in the security office. At least not when I’m anywhere besides the bathrooms, or inside the actual break room, but it feels safer to avoid the places he tends to search me out. My heart hates this idea but I’m not talking to her right now. Not after she made a fool out of me almost crying and clinging to him like he was her white knight hero…

Wasn’t he though?

No, I’m my own damn hero. Heroine. Warrior goddess. Whatever. And that’s how I’ve managed to take care of myself during the last several carless/homeless nights. Well, that, and a bit of luck. The night shift vet tech is sick, so not only do I get a warm place to sleep at night, but I also get paid—it’s a reduced rate since it’s a sleep shift, but I still get to keep my regular shift, and the extra money means I can afford the bus to get here.

When there’s nothing left to clean but the break room, I head there with only a blip of nerves in my belly. So far leaving it for last has worked; either that or Jeff’s avoiding me too, because he hasn’t come to confront me all week. Which, dammit, annoys me even though I’m the one dodging him. It would be nice if someone told me where my bloody car is though, right? I growl. Apparently with me, you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

What do I bloody well want? Jeff to leave me alone or to seek me out? And if I don’t know then how should he? I swear under my breath. What? People can only be my friend if they can read my mind? I swallow hard. Is that what Jeff is? My friend?

No, he’s your Daddy Grizz. And that train of thought annoys me even more. Because I like that idea too damn much.

In the break room I don’t bother cleaning the fridge out. It’s not really part of my job anyway. I do it because people are damn slobs and if I didn’t the whole room would stink. But today I don’t care. I don’t want to see the tidy sharpie letters of Jeff’s name.

I promise myself right now that even if it takes longer to pay Preacher back, I’m going to start feeding myself. No more pudding. No more starving myself so I can get out of my mess faster. A loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter may not have held much appeal to Tallulah Jane, but it’s nutrition that Lu needs, which won’t cost much. And hell, without insurance on my car I can afford that, and a bus pass. Ignoring the hole of a place to sleep, I congratulate myself.

As I polish a water mark off the tap, I murmur, “I don’t know why you didn’t come up with this idea sooner, Lu.” But a small voice in my head tells me exactly why.

Because I’m a martyr. I’m punishing myself because I’m undeserving of not just good things, but even basic human needs. Ugh, even peanut butter on white bread.

The thought hits me hard, so hard I kick my wash bucket. Dirty water sloshes all over the clean floor and I curse, knowing I have to rewash it now.

When I finish, the room smells like bleach and pine cleaner, but my hands are raw and cracked. I grab the garbage bag and yank it out but the can tips and just as I bend to grab it, Jeff walks in.

“Arg!” I garble, as wet goo pools beside the can onto my clean floor. But that’s not the reason for my cry. It’s because my stomach flips at the sight of him, and Tallulah Jane wants to throw her hands around his neck and kiss the hell out of him while flipping up one of her legs like a fifties-movie-star heroine, which only pisses Lu off.

“Hey.” His words are tentative and that makes me angrier.

“Don’t you ‘hey’ me like I’m a bomb about to go off.” I clench my fists at my sides, the garbage bag still clutched in one, and stare at his raised brows. Those brows, and his darkening eyes make a zing of something intense and fluttery shoot through my middle.

“Quit it, babydoll.” He pulls out a chair at the lunch table and juts his square tidy-bearded jaw at it. “Sit.”

I drop the bag and cross my arms. “Where’s my car?” It’s barely a question. It’s more of a demanding accusation. And then he crosses his arms too, and his brow pinches in disapproval.

And fuck. That makes me want to please him or push his buttons further or maybe just drop to my fucking knees and worship his... Gah!

I toss myself in a chair, but not the one he’s pulled out, because I’m basically a sulky rebellious jerk right now.

Jeff shakes his head and turns to open the fridge.

“I don’t want your damn pudding,” I bark. He only shoots me a look over his shoulder. What kind of look? A damn exasperated one that makes my middle absolutely hum. I turn my head so he won’t read me.

A thud on the table in front of me has my head snapping back and up where he towers over me. There’s a sandwich on the table in front of me.

“I’ll keep my damn pudding, thank you very much, but you’ll damn well eat this.” He stabs a finger on the table beside the cellophane wrapped square.

I snort. “Who died and made you king?”

He leans on the table, getting right in my face. “Not a king, honey, a Daddy. Your Daddy.”

“Oh, for f—” I swallow the rest of my sentence when his brow arches menacingly, and instead roll my eyes purposefully slowly. Before I can attempt to predict his reaction, he grabs my face and crushes my mouth with his in a punishing kiss. His lips are harsh, angry even, and his hands move to fist my hair, tugging my head back to more fully invade my mouth. Fuck! Maybe conquer is a more fitting description.

Daddy Grizz, the conqueror.

As lights begin to flash behind my lids, his lips release mine. Not even an inch separates us as we draw in ragged breaths.

“What was that for?” I ask in a husky whisper.

“It was either that or I toss you over my knee and spank your infuriating ass.”

A bolt of heat drives straight through me and then it’s me who’s roughly closing the distance between us. Yanking him by the collar back to my mouth, I moan against his lips.

But when our mouths reunite, he takes the lead, slowing things down. I melt into him, his mouth teasing mine to relax and savor the kiss.

I release his collar and reach around to massage his neck. One of his hands leaves my hair to slide down to my ass. Pulling me up, he gives it a dirty, dirty squeeze. God, yes! And as if the possessive squeeze isn’t enough, his other hand joins in and he hoists me up until I’m on my tiptoes.

“Mine,” he growls against my lips before continuing our kiss. I moan into his mouth when one of his hands leaves my ass to give it a hard swat.

When our kiss finally breaks, I’m dizzy and bereft. I even stumble back a bit, though I’m loath to admit it. Especially when his mouth curves in satisfaction as he steadies me. I’d never believed romance novels that said someone could be kissed breathless or have their wits stolen by a kiss, not until now.

Not until him. Not until my Grizzly Daddy.

Now that we’re no longer touching, a gap of a few feet between us, he taps the table. “You gonna eat, babydoll, or do I have to make you?”

I eye him and then the sandwich. “Depends on how you plan on making me.”

My mouth curves at the corner and his own cocky grin widens.

“Test me and find out.” He walks forward, grabs my hips, and pushes me down into the chair. I gather a breath, blow it out with exaggeration and pull the sandwich toward me.

“Fine.” My eyes flick to his. “But only because you make me hungry.”

His grin turns into a full-on smile at my innuendo. I unwrap the cellophane and take a bite of oozy PB it’s literally ten feet from my reach, when I’m yanked back. A strong arm around my waist squeezes the air from my lungs. I scream, but with the pounding bass not even I can hear my own voice. I’m tossed in the back of a car, practically into some other guy’s lap. He looks down at me and icy shivers run up my spine.

“Evening, Lu.” The raspy voice from the front seat has my shoulders rising and my stomach knotting. It’s Slash. The swishing and clicking of his blade give it away before I can even right myself in the seat to look.

“I’m not supposed to meet Python until tomorrow,” I say as I move off the guy I don’t recognize and sit upright. He shrugs one shoulder and Slash speaks.

“This ain’t about the money, baby. You’ve got a date with Preach.”

“I… I have to work,” I say, pointing at the door to the building. “I don’t have time.” Slash spins in his seat and grabs me by the throat, yanking me forward.

His scowl and his squeezing hand send my heart spiraling to the pit of my stomach. “We own you, so we own your fucking time too.”

He shoves me back hard and nods at the guy beside me who reaches across me to buckle me into the seat. My teeth start to chatter so I clench my jaw to stop them and give Slash a curt nod. Inside of me, every nerve trembles.

“Fine. But I hope this damn meeting doesn’t take long.” I keep my voice hard to hide my fear. I pull out the phone Python gave me and start to text. Dude grabs it, tossing it to the floor.

“I was just going to text my coworker that I’ll be late.”

He gives me a bored look. “She’ll figure it out.” He smirks. “And if it takes too long, I’ll go tell her myself.” My throat goes dry, bile rising up.

I wrap my arms around my middle. “You’re right. She’ll figure it out.” Hoping a change of subject will keep my coworker safe I ask, “Where’s Python tonight?”

“Fuck if I know. Probably sucking one of his goddamn butterscotch candies and jerking off.”

I grimace but shut up and look out the window. As we get up to a speed that makes my gut roll, I see a truck turn the corner behind us. It’s only a flash since we’re going so fast, but as I whip my head around I see an emblem on the side. Was it a bear? Did I see a red circle?

Was it Jeff? It’s my vulnerable side asking, the mooning dreamer, that can’t handle all this, that wishes hot Grizz Daddy would rescue me so we can ride off into the sunset on his white horse.

But I’m no damsel and the truck was probably just wishful thinking.

“If I lose my job, it’s your fucking fault,” I grumble, knowing Slash can’t hear me, but the words reinforce who I am, and it’s not someone that needs a damn hero.