Vik (Shot Callers 2)

Ew, what the hell was that?

I cringed, then tried again. “Hey. I was just in the neighborhood, and—” I rolled my eyes. “—thought I’d quiz you on who you’ve been screwing.” A humorless chuckle left me before I gripped my tee and flapped the material in an effort to cool my flaming cheeks and neck.

Why was talking to Vik so difficult?

I could express myself with my body so much better than I could with my mouth. Well, I guess it depended on how. Kissing, licking, and sucking were easy. Words, on the other hand? Hard.

Once more.

I took a deep breath to calm my nervous stomach and let it out slowly.

“Hey,” I whispered to myself. “Can we talk?”

Yep. That was it. That was the one.

“Okay,” I muttered, taking the few steps over to the door, and lifted my clenched fist, knocking before I lost my nerve. A minute later, the lock clicked over, and my gut clenched in anticipation. I hated myself for how eager I was to see him.

The door opened, and a short, pretty woman in her thirties answered.

My face fell, right to the ground.

Splat.

Goddammit, Anika.

I was going to kill her.

This—this right here—was why you didn’t show up to a guy’s place unannounced. Sometimes, your worst fears were brought to life.

A look of expectation crossed her, and she drew out the sentence, “Can I help you?”

No one could help me.

I threw on a smile I didn’t feel and asked politely, “Hi, is Vik around?”

Her face bunched in thought. “Vik?” She shook her head. “Uh, no.”

I waited for more, but she didn’t offer anything else. Feeling a little raw, I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from lashing out at a woman who did not deserve it. “Do you know when he’ll be home?”

“Doll,” she started, and I wanted to smack her, “I think you’re confused. There is no Vik here.”

What?

My ears rang. “Pardon me?”

“I don’t know what to tell ya.” She shrugged lightly. “Have a nice day.”

As she moved to close the door on me, my hand shot out as a barrier. “Wait.” The woman looked down at the offending limb as though she might just cut it off. Through the gap, I quickly asked, “How long have you lived here? When did you move in?”

The woman sighed as she thought about it. “I don’t know, six months or so.” She glanced down at my hand. “You can let go now.”

My fingers fell, and she shut the door in my speechless face. A thousand different thoughts ran through my head.

Okay. So, Anika was trying to tell me something.

Alone in the hall, all of which I had practiced was set aside, and it made room for a single, hushed question.

“What the hell is going on here?”

7

Vik

I was on fire.

My arms burned. My muscles burned. Hell, even my lungs burned. But it was good. A welcome distraction.

It was better than ninety percent of the feelings I got, thinking about her.

Sasha held the bag as I laid into it, gritting my teeth and punching it in a way I knew I could never punch a person, not unless I wanted to end their life. When I lifted my leg and let out a grunt, throwing it into the bag so hard that Sasha lurched. He then quickly regained his balance before admonishing, “Easy.”

No, it wasn’t. Nothing was easy. Life was harder than the devil’s prick, and if taking out my mood on this fucking punching bag was all I could do to ease the pain for a while, then I would.

I kicked it again and again, harder each time, until suddenly, I turned my back and tried in vain to get my raging emotions under control.

Fuck.

Panting, I placed my hands on my hips and lowered my head, allowing droplets of sweat to bead and meet at the tip of my nose before falling to the floor. Breathless, I let out a rough, “Sorry.”

I mean, I wasn’t, but it was only polite to say it.

My eyes closed, and all I saw was Nastasia. That little body-hugging dress with the long sleeves. Wavy brown hair that smelled like vanilla and peaches. Her expressive eyes that always betrayed her true feelings. The way her full mouth pouted, even when she smiled.

Tight body, curvy ass, petite tits. Mouthwatering.

Her uncertain statement echoed through my head. “Come home with me.”

It was official. I had lost my mind. There was no other reasoning to have refused her.

It wasn’t often that Nas put herself out there like that, but for me, she did. And she did it often, had done it often, starting from the time she was a teenager. I loved that about her. Nas didn’t just wear her heart on her sleeve; she wore her mind and mouth on it too.

Jesus. Regret sloshed through me, heavy and thick. Maybe I should have done it, even just to have her for one more night. The thing was, I wasn’t down for being a plaything. I wasn’t a game she could take off the shelf whenever she was bored, no matter how fun playing was.