Distraction (Underground Kings 3)

“I may have kicked it a little too hard last night,” she whispers ducking her head, but I want her eyes on me—I need her eyes on me.

“What’s your name?” Her eyes fly up to meet mine, and I’m sure my question sounded like a demand mixed with a growl, but there is nothing I can do about it now.

“Me?” she asks looking around, and I find myself smiling at her.

“You honey, what’s your name?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you that,” she mumbles and my head tilts to the side to study her.

“You don’t know if you should tell me your name?” I ask after a moment.

“Well, I don’t know you.”

Chuckling, I move away from the door toward her, then stop when her body stills and her eyes fill with fear. My jaw tics and I feel my heart squeeze. Who ever put that fear in her would answer to me, but first I wanted—no needed—to know her name.

“My name’s Justin. I live in apartment two ten.” I tilt my head toward the building hoping she’ll feel more comfortable knowing I’m her neighbor.

“Justin,” she whispers swinging her eyes from me to the building and back again.

“Justin,” I confirm.

Licking her bottom lip, she takes a step toward me then stops. “I’m Aubrey. I live with Shelly.”

“Nice to meet you, Aubrey.”

“You, too,” she mutters then takes a step back. “Shelly said you’re nice.”

That was surprising because I’ve only spoken to Shelly a hand full of times since she moved in. Then again, she probably thought I was nice, considering I didn’t call the cops on her every time she was having a party.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to go to the post office then to work.” She pulls out a cell phone from her pocket and looks at the time. “Crap, I’m totally gonna be late to work,” she mutters to herself and I notice her phone is the kind you buy at the store for twenty dollars—the kind of phone I used for a throw away when I was working a case and didn’t want anyone to track it.

“Let’s try your other doors,” I say and her cheeks get even darker. She presses her lips together and tucks her phone into her pocket.

“Your other doors don’t work either,” I guess from the look on her face.

“No, only the driver’s door. The other doors were welded shut because they kept opening on the fly.

“Jesus,” I mutter running a hand over my head. I didn’t think she would approve of me taking her car to the junkyard where it belonged and buying her a new car, at least not yet anyway.

“I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than stand out here with me. I’ll just go in and ask Shelly if I can use her Triple A. Hopefully they can pull it open for me.”

“I was heading to the post office,” I lie. “Why don’t you go with me, and I’ll drop you to work after.”

“That’s really sweet but—”

“Honey…” I cut her off. “It’s gonna take at least twenty or more minutes for someone to show up, and you already said you’re gonna be late for work.”

Looking at me then her car, I can tell she’s torn. “Okay, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” I take her arm and lead her over to my Rover and click the alarm off before opening the door for her. I make sure she’s settled before I slam the door closed. Jogging around the back, I get in behind the wheel and feel myself relax.

“This is a nice car.” Looking over at her, I smile then press the button that starts it up.

“This was a gift from a friend of mine,” I tell her and her eyes get big.

“A gift?”

“Well, kinda a bribe gift. A friend of mine in Hawaii tried to bribe me into coming to work for him.”

“You’re in Tennessee,” she points out softly.

“Didn’t say I took the bribe.”

“But you have this car.”

“Yep,” I agree with a smile while backing out of my parking space.

“He didn’t get mad?”

“Nah, he knew before he tried to bribe me that I wouldn’t leave my job.”

“Then why did he try?” she asks sounding adorably confused.

“Why does anyone do anything?”

“Good point.” She laughs and that laugh does some funny shit to my chest.

Getting to the post office, I wonder what the fuck I’m going to do since I have nothing to mail and no reason to be here. Helping her out, I lead her inside then stand in line.

“Stamps,” I mutter to myself. She turns and tilts her head back to look at me then asks, “What?”

“Stamps… Um, I need stamps,” I tell her, knowing I’m normally much better at making up shit on the fly.

“Oh.” She shrugs then goes to the open teller and tells him that she needs a money order. Hearing her say the amount of four hundred dollars, I’m more than a little surprised; her car is a piece of shit and the clothes she has on, though she makes them look good, are worn and old. And she’s pregnant—very pregnant. She must need that money. I have no idea how much a kid costs, but four hundred dollars would go a long way to help her.

Once I’m done paying for my stamps, I move to the side and wait for her. When she’s finished, she graces me with a bright smile. I take her hand and lead her outside to the Rover, helping her in before moving around the hood and getting in behind the wheel.

“Where do you work?” I ask as I start the engine.

“I… Do you know Dolly’s on West Elm?” she asks quietly, and my head swings her direction. Dolly’s is a strip club, one of the bigger ones in town. Beating back the anger I feel, I mutter, “Yeah, I know it.”

“I… I… That’s where I work.”

Well, that answered the question of how she knew Shelly, since Shelly works that club, and a few others around town.

“You’re pregnant,” I point out the obvious, not that she’s not beautiful and not that some men don’t get off on pregnant women, but I can’t imagine her working at a club like that.

“I work in the back. I help with the books, and sometimes on the weekends, I do the girls’ makeup and hair if it’s slow. Johnny, my boss, has been sweet about helping me out,” she mummers and I turn my head to look at her and see she’s staring out the window, her chin wobbling.

“Please don’t cry,” I say quietly reaching over to take her hand.

“I won’t. I don’t cry.” She turns her head to look at me and the broken look in her gaze causes my heart to stutter in my chest.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” I blurt and her hand jerks in mine. Her eyes grow in surprise.

“You… You want to have dinner with me?” she whispers.

“I’m the king of Hamburger Helper.” I smile and her bottom lip goes between her teeth for a moment before she whispers, “Okay,”

“Okay?” I ask just to confirm, feeling my pulse quicken.

“Yes, Justin, okay.” Hearing my name leave her mouth does that same shit to my chest, making it feel funny once more, and I feel myself grin as I pull out of the parking space and head toward Dolly’s.

Chapter 2

Moving from the kitchen to the living room carrying two bowls of Hamburger Helper, one of the only things I know how to cook, I stop in my tracks when I spot Aubrey asleep on my couch with her head on the armrest, her feet tucked up near her ass, and her hand resting over her belly. Letting out a breath, I move to the couch, setting both bowls on the coffee table. When I picked her up from work, she looked exhausted, but happy to see me all the same. I knew she had to be tired, so when I got her to my place, I showed her around and then told her to rest while I cooked. Pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, I lay it over her then take her dinner back to the kitchen and set it in the microwave, figuring she can have it when she wakes up.

Turning the TV on, I lower the volume and sit back eating. Hearing whimpering coming from Audrey, I set my bowl aside once more and turn to face her. Whateve

r she’s dreaming about isn’t good. Her body is writhing and her breathing is labored.

“Audrey.” I grab her hand and her foot swings out kicking me in the stomach as she sits up yelling.

“Noooooo!”

“Jesus,” I breathe, as her eyes focus on me and her hands cover her mouth.

“I’m so… oh God, I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, are you okay?” I ask studying her, and her face pales as she scoots away from me. “I will never hurt you,” I tell her watching her hands clench into fists. “Never,” I repeat.

“I need to go. I’m so sorry…” She gets up off the couch, grabbing her sweatshirt. Before I can stop her, she’s gone, slamming the door behind her.

“Fuck.” I rub my hands down my face and see that on the floor in front of the couch are her sneakers. Smiling, I get up off the couch and head to the door carrying her shoes with me.

Knocking on Shelly’s apartment door, I wait only a moment for it to open and am a little surprised when Aubrey pokes her head out.

“You forgot your shoes,” I tell her softly holding them out to her.