Page 34 of Forgotten Comeback (Parisi Family #5)

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Gavin

Sipping on my protein shake, I enter the warehouse to find Inferno pacing a hole in the floor. “Where the fuck have you been? You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts.”

“Sorry, I went to bed early last night and turned off my phone.” After nearly scrubbing my poor dick raw in the shower, trying to remove the red paint.

Fucking worth it, though.

“You know I’ve got a bout tonight,” I remind him.

“Don’t lie to me,” Inferno snaps.

“I’m not lying. I mean, yeah, I did go see Taylor last night to lock things down. She’s not going to say anything about our business to Kat.” My little blackmail leverage made sure of it.

“Forget about your ring girl ‘friend’ for one damn minute,” he snaps. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What now?” I ask wearily, slurping the last sip before tossing my cup in the trash.

“John’s here.”

I fist the air in victory. “That’s great news! So he did have a plan!”

Inferno shakes his head.

I lower my arm, regretting the premature celebration.

“No, that’s not great news, or no, he didn’t have a plan?” My forehead bunches.

My brother remains silent.

“Fucking spell it out for me,” I growl.

“He brought a pet with him.”

“A pet?”

Inferno grabs his phone, showing me the security feed.

The Parisi soldier Enzo is bound to a chair in a holding cell.

My eyes go wide as saucers. “Why is he here?”

“Yes, John, why is your pet here?” Inferno’s voice is an arctic blast over my head, and I turn around to find John storming toward us.

He surges forward, tackling Inferno to the ground as the two of them lay into each other.

“What the hell?” I cry, trying to pull them off of each other, but I catch a stray fist to the ribcage.

“Fuck this. I’m not getting injured before the damn bell rings. Someone can fill me in on what’s going on later.”

They continue tussling as I walk out the door.

Taylor

I should’ve called the cops. I should’ve called Kat and Fabio. I should’ve done something other than finishing this canvas with Gavin’s cum on it.

Cum that’s dripping from a woman’s plump lips, with the canvas distressed by Gavin smacking it with his dick and my paint-soaked panties. It’s fucking madness.

I step back, examining it.

No, it’s fucking genius.

Gavin Webb is my muse, and isn’t that a bitch?

I sign my name at the bottom corner, and before I chicken out, I snap a photo and upload it to my new artist account on social media.

“Madness’s Muse,” by Taylor McKenna.

What’s also madness? Me calling in sick at the Diamond so that I can take a nap and be prepared for tonight’s fight. “But hey, my therapist told me naps were good for my mental health!”

“Yes, Bonnie, I know,” I tell my cactus. “I’m nowhere near flexible enough for those mental gymnastics.”

I step out of the shower, wrapping my towel around myself. A sound pricks my ears, and I jerk my gaze to the mirror. Gavin’s smirking face greets mine.

“How the hell did you get in here?” I ask.

“I have a key. How the hell did you get in here?”

Looking around, I’m in the locker room of Ace’s.

I don’t know how…

He slides to his knees, draping his body over the bench with his ass in the air.

The man’s naked.

Looking down, I realize I’m now naked, wearing my strap-on.

“Make me your bitch, Taylor. You know you want to,” he says with laughter in his voice.

“I don’t think little fuckboy could handle it,” I taunt.

“Only one way to find out,” he challenges.

I situate myself behind Gavin, lining up the head of my dildo against his tight ring…

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Fumbling for my phone, I grab it and turn off my alarm.

“Naps are not good for my mental health!” I scream.

I storm to the shower, stripping as I wait for the water to heat up. Stepping inside, I move the spray between my legs.

Again, I’d rather be dragged and quartered than admit to anyone I immediately orgasmed.

“Are you finished sunning?” I ask Bonnie, moving her to a less bright spot on the counter. “I’ll be out late this evening,” I warn her. “Why? Because I’m tangled in a damn spider web. Not literally; it’s a metaphor.”

“Why don’t I get myself out? Because Gavin’s right, and I fucking hate that he’s right.

” The friend card has already been played once, and I’m not willing to gamble my life on playing it a second time with the capo of AC.

Hell, I can’t even be sure Kat would go to the mat for me.

I thought she and I were besties, but I’m starting to wonder if I even know her at all.

Pot, meet kettle.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly release it.

“Do I feel better? Yes,” I tell Bonnie.

There’s a notification on my phone, and I grab it from the counter. Opening social media, I check out my post. It’s gotten way more traction than I thought it would.

That’s really cool!

Need this in my life.

So sexy.

What’s the medium?

Ummmmm, yeah, about that medium…

How would I explain that I undressed in front of a man who broke in, and I stood there watching him jerk his dick with my paint-covered panties until he came all over my canvas. Oh, and all this after he murdered a man and blew up my house.

We both know what would’ve happened had I not been there.

My heart thuds as the memory of Dominic claws its way to the surface. Gavin’s right: I would have been raped had he not been there.

Dominic was always slimy, but it’s like I’ve misjudged everyone I’ve ever crossed paths with.

Oh, God, and Mrs. Parker is dead too!

My heart rate spikes, and my lungs feel like I’ve got an elephant standing on them. I grab a paper bag from the counter that contains my meds, dumping those out. Placing it over my mouth, I breathe slowly in and out, inflating and deflating the bag.

After a minute or so, I toss the bag, feeling more in control.

“This isn’t a spiral,” I assure Bonnie. “Should it be? I don’t know.

” My head thunks the refrigerator door before I open it and grab my water bottle, taking a swig.

Placing my bottle back inside, I close the door and tell her, “On that bright note, I need to get ready.” I pause.

“Excuse me, but I beg to differ. Sarcasm does suit me.”

Moving to the bathroom, I spend some extra time on my hair and makeup, checking myself out in the mirror. No clue what the ring girl should wear to a weigh-in, but I went with a black mini dress and heels. Something that at least covers most of my breasts and all of my vag.

My phone notifies, and I grab it, opening social media.

Mostly positive comments on my post. A few creepy ones, and those quickly get deleted and the user blocked.

My DMs are lit up, and I open them.

More creepy dudes are getting blocked, but one message catches my attention.

I’m interested in purchasing your piece, Madness’s Muse. What’s your asking price?

“Oh my God, someone wants to buy my artwork!” I squeal, jumping up and down.

But what is my asking price?

Having never sold artwork before, I’m not sure how to value it. Not to mention whether it’s ethical to sell this painting without Gavin’s consent.

Wait just a damn second. He didn’t get my consent before he went on his crime spree, and I don’t owe him anything. Besides, if I’m really gonna go for this artist thing, then I refuse to be the starving stereotype.

Five hundred. Will you need shipping?

Yes.

What’s your zip code? Let me research the cost, and I can give you a more accurate quote.

19720

A quick search tells me this individual is in Delaware. After another search of my painting’s dimensions with the shipping company, I feel bad for even typing this.

Shipping looks to be around that same amount.

Perfect. Send me the invoice.

Unsure how to do that since I don’t have a business, I get on my money app and create a QR code, sending it to them.

My phone alerts moments later, and I pull up the app.

Holy shit. A thousand bucks sits in my account.

I break out into another little happy dance before tossing my phone in my bag, and I’m out the door.

I’m flying high on the way to the warehouse, no roller coaster ride needed.