For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (46 page)

Abruptly, he lets me go and I drop like a wet sack at his feet. Kylee is behind him, legs spread to brace herself. I push myself forward onto
Defbobby’s
legs. I’m weak but determined to throw him off balance. Kylee jumps and uses her downward momentum to wrestle our father onto his knees. My right arm is useless so I use my left to shove at his face and push him to the side. He isn’t trying to stop me. Kylee has his belt wrapped around his throat and he’s frantically trying to free himself by pulling the belt away from his neck. I bend my arm and slam my elbow down into his ribcage. Vomit spews from his mouth in a forceful rush. What little air he had is gone.

His eyes roll frantically about, his face contorting with terror. For all his avarice, I’ve never seen him vulnerable enough to show fear. Tonight’s a night of cataclysmic revelations because several of them make themselves known to me at once. First, Kylee is going to kill
Defbobby
if I don’t warn her to stop pulling on the belt around his neck. Second, our father knows his survival rests in me and as I watch the realization flicker over his face like a silent horror movie, I realize the third thing. I am going to let Kylee choke the life from our father, and I’m going to watch the light go dim in his eyes. The rush of omnipotent power surging in my veins has me hard again.

Defbobby
jerks; his feet kicking and pukey spittle flying from his mouth. His face is dark red and one of the veins on his forehead is green and fat with blood. He jerks again. Once. Twice. His eyes are glued to mine and his expression is one of uncomprehending betrayal. He thought I’d stop her. He thought I loved him at least that much. He was wrong on both counts. The last thing he sees is my bloody smiling face.

*     *     *

Kylee won’t touch
me, won’t speak, she hasn’t in the four hours we’ve been driving. We left in the pitch black hours of the morning in our father’s pickup truck with his body wrapped in his comforter in back. We dumped it in a swamp for the gators. I tried to chop him up but couldn’t stomach it, only taking his right hand, his belt hand. I can’t say I know what to think about it. I’m glad
Defbobby
is dead. I’m more than a little frightened about what comes next.

We have forty-six dollars, canned ravioli and boxes of mac-and-cheese to last us a week, and enough gas to only get us to Mobile, Alabama. It’s not sufficient.

I pull the truck into a rest-stop and park. “We’ll sleep here tonight.” I don’t wait for her to respond. Kylee grabs her walking stick and follows the sound of my feet into the men’s room; she’s blind, who gives a damn? I stand guard while she goes in the stall and purposely hold my water. Afterward, we get back in the truck and sit in easy, weighted silence until Kylee slumps against the door and her breaths become even and I slip out. “Bathroom,” I whisper, just in case. She nods dreamily.

I’m in the bathroom, waiting, for nearly an hour when a trucker finally comes in. I’ve never let anyone have sex with me for a measly forty bucks, but I’m beat to hell and he knows I’m desperate. I reluctantly accept.

He has me pressed up against the wall hard enough to bruise my cheek when I feel him seize, shudder, and slump against me. For a few seconds, I let myself feel relieved he’s finished, and then I take notice of the wetness… warm and cascading down my back. I shove back, angered by whatever he’s dumped on me and ready to have him off me. That’s when I slip in the blood.

Red is all I see.

Puddled on the floor, smeared on the wall, blossoming out across the grimy floor. Red is the color of her fiery hair. For the first time, I can hear something, a high-pitched sound, an earth shattering screech that has me pulling at my hair and pacing in the blood at my feet.

Kylee stands holding the kitchen knife we brought in case we need to camp. Her lips move.
“Steal his wallet,”
she says, her face is placid and cold. The tip of her boot is touching blood.

The ringing in my ears dwindles. I have to take care of her, of us. I force myself not to sob as I reach for the trucker’s wallet. There’s a wad of twenties, at least two hundred dollars, in his wallet. I want to kick him when I think about the way he negotiated with me.

I did this. I made a murderer of her. I reach for Kylee’s hand, take the knife, and lead us back toward the truck.

“Parker,”
she turns my chin toward her.
“No more whoring.”

Her expression is soft but her eyes are unyielding. I nod and pull away from the rest stop. Whatever happens next, I face it with open eyes and Kylee at my side.

I looked. I touched. I tasted.

And now, sin has entered our world.

To be continued?

If you’d like to read a full length novel based on Parker and Kylee, please let the author know. If you haven’t read the Dark Duet, you can start with the sexy, thrilling
Captive in the Dark
now.

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Nikki Sloane

M
usic played from
the speakers of my car, but cut off abruptly.

At least, I thought it did. It was hard to focus. The engine wasn’t running now, because my keys were clenched in my fist, and I stared at the office building beyond my windshield.

The single story building was small and unassuming. Faded shingles wrapped along the roof, and the aluminum siding was worn. A few wayward weeds poked through the cracks in the broken sidewalk, but otherwise the place was in good shape. The sign on the glass doors had a logo and hours. The studio looked professional enough, much like any other office business. How many people knew what really went on behind those doors?

Deep breath.
You can do this.

I tamped down the anxiety in my stomach and got out of my car. I had to lock it with the key because the car was twenty years old. Hell, the piece of shit was almost as old as me, but I shouldn’t complain. It still ran, and it was free. Well, except for the bottle of coolant I had to put in it once a week. I couldn’t afford to get the slow leak repaired. Thankfully, it had made the trip from Hammond, Indiana up to Chicago without an issue.

It was difficult to swallow my breaths as I teetered on my unaccustomed heels toward the studio. God, I needed a drink to calm my nerves. Even though I wanted this, it was still a huge step forward and one that couldn’t be undone. The internet made things forever.

I placed a sweaty palm on the bar across the door and pushed it open.

The woman behind the desk glanced up. Her evaluating eyes peered directly into me, right past the blonde highlights I’d gotten last week, the spray tan, and the acrylic nails. I’d done all I could to make myself look the part.

Nina Hale, ready for stardom.

The office matched the outside. There was a large board with schedules written on it hanging on the back wall, and headshots pinned beside it. Computers, phones, fax machines. Everything was businesslike, even down to the desk clutter.

The skinny woman, who looked to be in her late forties, had brown hair with bangs, and just the right amount of makeup to look trashy-hot. Her red lips pulled back into a smile, but it was guarded.

“Are you Nina?”

I forced a warm, friendly smile. “Yeah.”

“You don’t look like your pictures.”

Fuck.
Fuck!
We’d spoken on the phone, and she’d been clear that if I didn’t match the pictures I submitted, they’d send me home immediately. “Uh, I changed my hair, but—”

The woman held up her hand, cutting me off. “You look even better. You mind?” She spun her finger in the air, asking me to turn.

I tried not to wobble on the heels when I did as asked.

When I came back around, she was grinning. “Well, damn, girl. Aren’t you something? I’m Kimberly.”

I let out a relieved breath. “Nice to meet you.” I bent over her desk and shook her outstretched hand.

Kimberly’s gaze drifted beyond my shoulder, and then the door behind me creaked opened. I turned once more—

Oh my God.

The guy who stepped inside melted the panties I wore beneath my dress. He had that cocky frat boy look going on, a t-shirt stretched tight over his upper body, leaving nothing to the imagination. I could see how much this boy liked to work out. Jeans slung low on his hips and a baseball hat was turned backward, not shielding his gorgeous face.

He was the kind of guy who occasionally hit on me at the bars. I’d gone home with some of them, even let a few of them fuck me. But I’d learned they weren’t interested in anything but pussy, and once they’d had it, it was time for them to move on.

This boy had an easy smile, which faded the edge of the cockiness just enough so I worried I might swoon like a fucking idiot. Was he the other talent? My heart lodged in my throat, clogging my ability to speak.

“Hey, Scott,” Kimberly said.

“Hey,” he echoed back. His gaze shifted my direction, starting at my feet and working up. He seemed to have no shame about the way he was drinking me in, and it made the nerves rattle harder in my belly.

“Scott, this is Nina,” Kimberly said. “It’s her first time.”

Holy hell, his smile was amazing. It struck a balance between sweet and sinful, and his eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

I nodded because there was no telling what ridiculous sound I might make if I tried to speak.

“Nervous?” he asked.

I was. My knees were shaking under my dress, but I was determined not to show it. For months I had stared at the listing and fantasized about taking action, and once I had, more months passed as I completed all the steps necessary to bring me to today. No one knew where I was, except for the people in this room, and it fed into my fantasy. I could be
anyone
today.

I sucked in a calming breath. “I’m fine. Sort of excited.”

He blinked, stunned. It was a reaction I was used to. I had a deep, smoky voice which didn’t match people’s expectations. They saw a pretty, feminine face with nice boobs and long legs, and assumed I’d have a high-pitched, girly voice to go along with it. It’s not like I sounded like a man, but my alto voice caught people off guard.

“Excited?” His grin somehow widened. “I think we’re gonna have a great time.”

Kimberly rose from the desk. “Either of you want something to drink?”

My mouth was a desert from the realization I was going to be working with Scott. I’d assumed the guy would be decent looking, but not overly attractive. This guy looked delicious.

“Water?” I asked.

“Sure.” Kimberly disappeared down the hall past a row of filing cabinets.

I could feel Scott’s gaze on me like hands exploring my body, studying every curve, but I stared at the back wall. If everything went well, I’d see plenty of him in a few minutes.

The desk groaned softly as he leaned against it, and his shift in position wordlessly demanded my attention. So I turned my gaze to him and the dirty blond hair that curled at the ends beneath his baseball hat.

“What’s a girl like you doing here?”

His gray-blue eyes were full of curiosity, not judgment. “I dunno,” I said. “What’s a
girl
like you doing here?”

His perfect mouth quirked into a half-smile at my barb. “I asked first, Nina. If that’s your real name.”

I’d gone back and forth, but in the end I decided to use my first name, not caring who knew. “It is my name, and I need the money.” Not just that, I needed a whole new life.

“Yeah? Don’t we all?” He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, which gave an excellent view of his toned form. “Well, you’re fucking hot. You’ll have no problem getting lots of work.”

It was a compliment, but he’d said it like it was fact. Coming from this sexy stranger, it was a huge turn-on. My face flushed with heat and I wavered slightly. “Thank you.”

“Hey, if you get nervous . . . it’s cool. Everyone is their first time.”

So, he’d done this before. Relief passed through me. This was like dancing, and I was glad to have a strong partner to lead. “Were you?”

His expression was amused. “Yeah. I put a lot of pressure on myself and, fuck, I was awful. But don’t worry.” Scott flashed a devious grin. “I’ve gotten less awful since.”

It was unstoppable that my gaze flowed down him. I couldn’t imagine him being awful. No, something told me he’d be much, much better than
awful
.

Kimberly returned carrying two bottles of water. When she offered them to us, I took mine quickly, not wanting either of them to see my hand was shaking. Scott casually took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and downed a long sip. He was cool as a cucumber.

“Well,” Kimberly said, glancing up at the clock, “I guess we’ll start without him. Either of you need a minute before we begin?”

“We’re doing it without him?” Scott asked.

I wondered the same thing. Where was the director? We were going to shoot without one?

Kimberly shrugged. “Why not? Everyone else is here. No point wasting—”

The door flew open, and we all turned at the sound.

There was no way this guy was the director, he looked the same age as me. He had on flip-flops, cargo shorts and a polo shirt. Preppy, hot asshole, in the flesh.

Oh, good lord, who was this? I was annoyed at my body’s response to him. He looked good, even though I didn’t want him to. He pulled the aviator sunglasses down from his face, giving me a peek at his deep brown eyes. Wait a minute, was this who I was performing with? Kimberly hadn’t said who, specifically, and neither had Scott. All he’d said was he thought we’d have a great time.

Both men were really attractive, and I’d only known Scott for two minutes, but in my flustered state, I’d cling to what I knew.

“You’re running late,” Kimberly said.

“I guess you didn’t get my text. Sorry.” The guy ran a hand through his almond-colored hair. “Traffic.”