Junkie (Broken Doll 1)

As I fought with the door, a meaty hand curled around my rail-thin arm and I was yanked toward the center console, up against Jorge’s huge, sweaty gut.

“First, I want my payment, puta.”

“I… didn’t Nicky tell you?” I tried to swallow, but my parched and scratchy throat was too dry. “I don’t have any money.”

Jorge grinned, the scar on his cheek distorting into a hideous, puckered curve. “I don’t want money.” His eyes went dark and Jorge let go. He shuffled around, huffing and puffing until I saw he had his stubby dick out of his shorts, half-hidden by a roll of fat. With one hand, Jorge began to stroke it and I nearly retched.

“You know what to do, coña estúpida.”

Stupid cunt.

I glanced out the window and saw nothing but darkness. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to go, nobody to save a pathetic junkie like me. It was the story of my life. Another cramp hit and reminded me how little time I had before full withdrawal hit.

I really, really need that fucking H.

I sent up a quick prayer that I wouldn’t gag and puke all over his crotch, then I closed my eyes, bent over and paid Jorge’s fee.

If I ever saw Mason again, I was going to kill him.

2

Boss

“Someone is in the yard, Boss.”

“I can see that, Milo.”

I was snapping at Milo, but my anger was meant for my security team. My missing security team. No one, and I mean no one, entered my property without a goddamn invitation and a thorough pat down. So who the fuck was stupid enough to sneak in? And why the fuck didn’t any of my men know about the intruder before Milo saw it on the monitor? Whoever the hell was prowling around could have waltzed right up to my fucking house if I hadn’t turned on the video feed in my study and my lieutenant hadn’t seen the movement on the screen.

Milo and I stalked down the wide hall, guns in hand, and exited through the front door. “Where the fuck is Burke?” I scanned the large expanse of green lawn, lit by floodlights strategically spaced around the house. They shone on the grass until the lawn faded to black at the perimeter.

“Don’t know, Boss. He should be here, or at least one of his guys. Someone was here when I arrived.” Milo shrugged, apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault. Burke was head of security for the house. The place where I goddamn ate and slept. The one location that should be one hundred percent safe. It was Burke’s job to know every single thing that happened on my property and either deal with it or come to me immediately. Now, because we couldn’t find Burke, this became my problem. To say I was pissed was an understatement.

Milo and I quietly descended the stone steps and crept along the side of the house toward camera nine. Whoever this motherfucker was that thought they could get to me was as good as dead. On that thought, I motioned to Milo, who came closer.

Voice low, I leaned toward my lieutenant. “Don’t use that fucking hand-cannon out here.” With the muzzle of my smaller gun, I tapped his .45. “Too goddamn loud. I don’t want neighbors calling the cops.” The nearest residence might be almost a half-mile away, but still, that fucking gun sounded like a sonic boom when it went off.

Milo sighed, made a big fucking deal about holstering his precious baby, and pulled out his secondary weapon, a .22 he kept strapped to his ankle. He

widened his eyes with a look that asked, Happy now?

I threw back a, Don’t fucking start with me or I’ll pistol-whip your ass.

With my gun, I motioned for Milo to go first and followed him around to the side yard. Milo held up a hand and stopped in his tracks. He cupped his ear to indicate he heard something. I froze in place to listen and caught the faint rustling of someone walking through the grass and a clicking sound that reminded me of… of the sounds made by flip-flops? The two of us were skirting the building so as not to set off the motion-activated lights. The intruder, however, was too goddamn stupid, and tripped them a second later.

Four blinding spotlights flooded the area, sending spots across my vision as my eyes tried to adjust. A warm gust of night air blew past me. I heard a high-pitched squeal and a low grunt followed by a thud. It took a good twenty seconds of squinting until I finally acclimated my vision. Once my sight was restored, I found Milo in front of me with our trespasser in one hand, her wrists behind her back, and his gun pressed against a pale, utterly filthy redheaded girl’s temple.

“She’s got no weapons on her, Boss.”

I blinked several times in disbelief at the physical appearance of our interloper before letting out a pained sigh. I tucked my 9 mil into the waistband of my track pants and shook my head. “Put your gun away, Milo.”

“No fuckin’ way,” he growled, glaring.

“If you can’t handle this…” I waved a hand over the slight, frail, and very sickly-looking female in Milo’s grasp. “…this ninety-pound girl without your gun, I need to rethink your position in my organization.”

Milo huffed, but eventually slid his gun back into its ankle holster, albeit reluctantly. “I can handle her, Boss.” He must have squeezed her wrists because she let out a pitiful cry.

“Let’s go inside. Bring her.” I gave the shivering girl one last bewildered examination and shook my head. Unexpected bullshit like this pissed me off to no end. Now, instead of having a few drinks and crashing for the night, I’d be stuck dealing with whoever the fuck this girl was that managed to slip past my security. Then I’d have to crack some heads, starting with Burke, because this dumb shit girl managed to get past my highly trained, very well paid guards who were either taking a shit or jerking off somewhere while a trespasser entered my property.