Jagged Edge

The scrutiny intensifies, and I pretend I’m not squirming underneath it. No clue what’s going on through Ocean’s head, but he’s my big brother, and I can’t help but be nervous.

“You really care for Jason,” he says, and it isn’t a question. “Does he know?”

I hesitate, then shake my head.

Ocean nods, a scowl on his face. “We don’t want innocent people harmed, and especially not Jason and his gang. We want Simon Gomez gone from his position of power, and preferably thrown behind bars. You need to convince Jason to get his ass out of that mess while the going is good.”

I shrug. “I’ve tried telling him that. He wouldn’t listen to me.”

And I fucked up. Pushed him too hard. Pushed him away.

“I’ll tell Jesse Lee to locate him, tell him. Maybe he’ll listen to him.” Ocean nods to himself. “We’ll help him get off the streets and put distance between himself and Simon’s gang before it all goes down.”

I glance back at the shop, unsettled at the thought that Jason might listen to Jesse when he won’t listen to me. Then again, Jesse was never an asshole to him like I was. “Let me know how it goes.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jason

“You’re such a bad boy,” she moans. “Oh yeah, so bad. Give it to me.”

“I’ll give it to you, baby,” I whisper, snapping on the condom. She’s old enough to be my mother, and the wrong gender, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? “Ready?”

I sink into her, my eyes closed, imagining it’s someone else.

Raine. Every night, every time, I imagine it’s Raine. How fucked up is that?

But there’s no other way I can get even semi-hard, if not for imagining him. Thank God she’s so wasted she doesn’t seem to notice I can’t get it up for her for real.

We’re in the stall of a club, and she has her legs wrapped around my waist. Someone is banging on a stall a few feet away, music is booming through the speakers, and I think I’m gonna puke.

Letting strangers fuck me for money is bad enough. Fucking women… that’s a whole different level of hell for a guy who isn’t into women at all. It’s a desperate measure reserved for desperate times, and these are looking pretty grim. Over these past few days, since the police decided to crack down on prostitution in a series of massive raids through town, working the streets became too dangerous. I need to stay low.

But Simon still wants his money. Like that’s a big fucking surprise. And he’s keeping a close eye on me, his goons following me around.

It means I’ve had to put off sending Adam away and work the seedy clubs, pretending nothing’s out of the ordinary.

It’s killing me.

“Harder,” she moans, bucking her hips, and fuck, my hard-on has wilted to almost nothing. I’d forgotten for a second where I was and what I was doing.

Joy.

I do my best, though, bracing one arm on the stall wall and shifting so that I can push in deeper, and again my stomach roils, threatening to upchuck its meager contents.

A heavy hand starts banging on the door of the stall, scaring the living shit outta me. “Betty! Goddamn you. Come on out!”

Ah hell, you’re kidding me.

“Is he your boyfriend?” I pant. “Hey. I said is he your boyfriend?”

“Husband,” she slurs.

Oh, fucking hell. “And what, you forgot about him?”

“You’re cute.” She pouts, runs a red nail down my cheek. “And he’s an ass.”

I pull out, set her down and drag up my pants. Jesus. “Pay up.”