Junkie (Broken Doll 1)

“You’re fucking telling him what you did, Frank! I’m not the one who lost her!” From the sound of it, Sarge was freaking the fuck out.

And Miri was missing.

My stomach collapsed in on itself, tendrils of fear unfurling into my suddenly weakened limbs as I listened to Frank respond.

“Calm down, Sarge. We don’t know what happened and you have men looking for her.” Frank’s s

ubdued, even demeanor did nothing to help ease the nausea burning in my gut. In fact, his lack of concern for Miri pissed me right the fuck off. Unable to hold back any longer, I burst through the door and both men froze, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on. Now!” By the looks on the men’s faces, I was sure I appeared insane, slick with sweat from head to toe, hands fisted, and veins bulging. If I had to guess, I’d say my entire body was bright red and vibrating with fury. The thread I had been hanging on to had just fucking snapped.

“Hey Boss. Sarge and I were just—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you were just doing!” I stepped forward and the two men flinched. My jaw ached from clenching so hard. “Tell me everything. Now.”

Miri

The loud, high-pitched whirring of pneumatic tools combined with the low, steady whirr of air saws and the near constant clanging of chisels on metal sent vibrations through the ceiling below to the floor where I sat. Slumped on the hard tile, curled into a ball with my back against the wall, the tremors were nearly strong enough to make my teeth clack together.

Beggars didn’t have the luxury to be choosers, and to be honest, the tiny apartment above the auto body shop was a hell of a lot better than some places I’d called home. Beau had no idea how much I owed him for letting me crash in the tiny space rent-free until I earned my first paycheck. Beneath the rough surface, the big, grumpy mountain of a shop owner had a heart of gold.

When I showed up unannounced a few hours ago, my face blotchy and damp with tears and my clothes filthy from walking several miles, carrying every possession I owned in a bag slung over my shoulder, Beau offered the apartment no questions asked. I was so grateful I was struck speechless. My only response to his kindness was to start crying all over again.

My stomach growled but I ignored it, too tired to leave to find real food. Besides, Jag… No, Boss, wasn’t a stupid man. The shop that recently employed me would be one of the first places he would check when he found out I was gone. Once he realized my things were missing, he’d know I left on purpose and didn’t simply vanish from the mall.

I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer for Frank. It wasn’t his fault he lost me. Under the guise of shopping, I asked Frank to bring me to the mall, knowing I could slip out one of the dozen entrances unseen. The kind man even handed me a huge wad of cash, smiling as he told me to “purchase something nice” for myself.

I blinked back the impending tears, determined not to cry again, but my broken heart wouldn’t allow me to let go of the conversation I’d had earlier. The one that sliced into the hard-earned trust I gave to Jag, severing everything between us with a single deep slash.

Milo slipped into the library, the smile on his face sending up red flags all over the place. I glanced around, my pulse skittering, and realized I was cornered and alone. The closer Milo came, the faster my heart pounded. My brain screamed for me to run yet I was paralyzed by fear.

Stopping a few feet away, the huge man perched on the arm of a nearby chair, his enormous frame towering over where I sat on a leather couch, a book lying on my lap. Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I was compelled to meet his eyes.

When I did, I finally understood the meaning of “a deer caught in headlights.” I was the prey and Milo the predator. My heart faltered. I knew I didn’t stand a chance should he decide to physically hurt me. I swallowed down the scream building in my throat and spoke.

“W-why are you here?”

Milo was still smiling, but his eyes spoke a different story. A frightening story. I shivered under his scrutinizing gaze. Cold, hard, emotionless, dead—those are the words I would use to describe the soulless man behind the dark stare.

“We got off on the wrong foot, Miri.” Milo leaned over, getting closer than was comfortable. “I wanted to start over if you’d let me.”

Milo’s deep Texas drawl came out of nowhere and sounded as foreign coming from him as a French accent would from Jag. I didn’t want this man anywhere near me. Every instinct I had recoiled at his close proximity, but making Milo angry wasn’t something I wanted to chance.

“Okay.”

“Good,” he said with a clap of his hands on his knees. “You got a job, right?”

“Yes.” Where was Jag? My brain was shouting warnings so loud I wanted to cover my ears.

Get out! Run! Leave!

Milo grinned, showing off a single gold tooth. I had to concentrate to not visibly cringe at the sight.

“That’s wonderful. Now you can get out there and have a life. Find a nice guy to treat you right.”

I furrowed my brow at Milo’s suggestion. He was baiting me, I knew it, but I couldn’t resist asking.

“What do you mean? Like dating?”