Junkie (Broken Doll 1)

Heroin did that to you, made you paranoid and even caused hallucinations at times. Yet I had to admit, the pull to get my fix hadn’t been as strong lately. Yes, I still sat in the hard wooden chair twice a day while Boss or one of his men silently dosed me, but the intensity of my cravings had significantly decreased. I shrugged off the thought. I probably didn’t crave H like I used to because I was getting it on the regular, which meant I never went into withdrawal. And it was white as snow, so I was sure it wasn’t just any old H—Boss had the really good, pure stuff.

I crept downstairs and let myself out into the backyard. One look and my breath hitched in my chest. The beauty of the land behind the house never failed to amaze me. Drug lord or not, Boss’s garden was like heaven on earth. I wove between the shrubs and flowers, guided through the fading darkness by the hint of sunlight on the horizon.

I spent so much time out here I knew each scent as I passed the various flowers—the soft sweetness of the butterfly bushes, the strong punch of the Texas mountain laurel, the cloying honeysuckle, and the perfumed gardenias. By the time I reached the gazebo in the back of the garden, I was relaxed and at peace, the familiar scents curling around me like a warm blanket. I kicked off the flip-flops and sat on a bench swing, the whitewashed wood in pristine condition. It could have been five minutes or thirty. I lost track of time as the orange glow on the horizon threw a rainbow of colors across the sky.

“Good morning.” The deep voice startled me, but I managed to maintain a calm facade as my heart kick-started into a fast pace.

“Boss,” I replied, giving him a courteous nod before returning my focus to the brilliant streaks radiating out from where land met sky. I might have appeared composed, but inside, my nerves were twisting into knots in my belly.

Is this when he asks for his payment?

Not knowing what Boss wanted from me or when he would demand it had me on edge whenever the handsome man was around.

“You mind if I join you, doll?” His drawl was pronounced as he pointed at the swing.

I stared at him a second too long before answering and unintentionally gave away my anxiety. “Not at all.” When Boss lowered his tall frame to the seat, I shuffled into the furthest corner of the bench to put distance between us, my spine pressed against the rigid arm of the swing, my arms wrapped around my knees.

Without taking his eyes off the sunrise, Boss spoke. “I reckon it’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“It is.”

We sat quietly as the sun rose from the horizon, turning dawn into daylight. Boss’s strong presence captured all of my attention, the sunrise long forgotten. Every movement he made, no matter how small, made my body react with a burst of hormones that jolted me like mini electric shocks to my system. My heart was already pounding in my chest merely from his proximity; the tiny zaps of attraction only made the feeling more intense.

Even if you didn’t know who Boss was or what he did, he wasn’t the kind of man people ignored. He was larger than life, confident, attractive, and radiating masculine strength and power. His presence silently insisted you take notice. But continually anticipating his eventual demand for sex was tearing me apart inside. It was like living with an axe held over my head, every moment spent waiting for it to fall. If I’d learned one thing since living on the streets, it was to just suck it up and face the difficult shit head-on.

“Miri is mine.”

“No one touches my property.”

Emboldened by the words Boss used yesterday along with his dramatic actions, and desperate to get it over with, I slid across the seat until my thigh pressed against his. Boss didn’t react. Didn’t shift his attention from the sky. Didn’t turn to look at me. Nevertheless, his desire was palpable. Boss couldn’t hide the twitch of his leg muscles or the hitch in his breath. Boss or not, he was still just a man, and more important, he didn’t say no or push me away.

A little more confident, I threw a leg over his lap and straddled him, resting one knee on either side of his hips. Boss didn’t move to grab my waist or put his hands on me. It was only when my face was directly in front of his and he was forced to meet my gaze that I found myself trapped by the most stunning eyes I’d ever seen. From this close, I could see a blue so deep it reminded of the azure seas off the Greek Isles. Despite me sitting on his lap, Boss’s expression didn’t change.

Hesitant, I lifted a hand and brushed my fingertips over the soft, short hairs on his face, trailing them down to his full lips. Again, Boss did nothing. Revealed nothing. I lowered my head, allowing him plenty of time to stop me before our mouths met, but he didn’t. I felt the warmth of his breath as my lips touched his.

I kissed him while Boss sat unmoving beneath me. Confused, I swiped my tongue across his lower lip to encourage participation and groaned from the exquisite taste of his mouth. Once more, there was no response. I pulled back and stared.

Boss lifted a dark eyebrow. “Are you done yet?” His words were heavy with sarcasm.

I flinched as if he’d slapped me across the face. My cheeks burned in humiliation from the cold rejection. I slid off his lap, urgently needing to get as far away as possible. He didn’t feel the same. Boss grabbed my arm before I could leave, trapping me next to him. I dropped my gaze and waited as the shame rushed over me, a hot flush engulfing my skin, bursting into flames. Maybe they would burn hot enough to turn me to ash so I wouldn’t have to face him again.

“Meet me in the kitchen.”

With that, Boss released my arm. Those were the only words he said, delivered in a low, even, completely unaffected voice, the playful Texas drawl gone. Mortified, I turned and ran, leaving my flip-flops behind and holding back tears.

Why do I even care if he wants me or not? This is a good thing, right?

I shouldn’t want to be a whore, trading sex for drugs and a place to stay. Boss refusing my advances should make me ecstatic, yet as I made my way through the garden I felt nothing but the hot sting of rejection. I was lower than a junkie, lower than a whore. Not only was I both of those things, I was apparently so tainted Boss wouldn’t even touch me.

Disgusting, repulsive, useless, pathetic… my mother’s words came roaring back as if it were only yesterday she was flinging insults while also throwing anything and everything she could get her hands on. Dishes, appliances, furniture… if it could be lifted, she’d hit me with it. One time, she even cracked a rib when she smashed a chair across my back.

I didn’t stop running until I was upstairs in my room. Ha! My room. What did that even mean?

I didn’t own a single damn thing in this world.

In the attached bath, I splashed cold water on my face until I was certain I wouldn’t cry. Crying showed weakness and I was not weak. I never gave my bitch mother the satisfaction of breaking me; I wouldn’t give it to a man I hardly knew. So what? He didn’t want to fuck me. Living here, with one of the most dangerous men in the city, was still the safest I’d felt in a long time.

Now, I just had to face Boss and show him his brush-off didn’t affect me. Hands trembling, I went down to the kitchen for my impersonal dose of heroin.