Little Black Break (Little Black Book #2) (6 page)

I stroked his face, tracing the line of his jaw and down the sides of his neck. With closed eyes, I took in his essence. “Nothing could take me away from you, Sebastian. Nothing.”

OUR NIGHT TOGETHER WAS ALMOST perfect. Rosslyn loved the building and the restaurant idea. I could see the sparkle in her eyes as she took in the room and visualized what the place could be in her mind. Making her happy made me happy, so until she brought up the subject of going to work, I was content.

I couldn’t stomach the idea of hardened criminals surrounding her. The thought had never crossed my mind when she was in school for criminal justice, and I hadn’t thought past her graduation. I just knew seeing her flourish in her classes made me feel proud. Seeing her confidence build as her GPA rose and her professors praised her—it was amazing to watch.

It wasn’t until she walked across the stage at graduation and began talking about all the possibilities she had with her new degree that it sank in.

Criminal Justice.

Criminals.

The woman I loved would be working with dangerous people. I knew dangerous people and hardened criminals; I knew their inner workings. I couldn’t fathom the idea of her working alongside the same people I’d once rubbed elbows with. I didn’t want to think about the terrible things they’d be thinking about her.

About her body.

Her smile.

Nausea swept over me.

I had to protect her. I had to make her understand how unsafe it was for a woman like her to work with criminals, and I had until our wedding day to press that understanding into her.

Rosslyn wasn’t helpless. She was amazing. She was strong—vital—but I’d seen the strongest struggle to survive with those types of people. I’d struggled. I couldn’t stand by and watch as she willingly threw herself in the path of menace.

So when a few weeks went by without even a callback from her many interviews, I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t completely relieved. Don’t get me wrong—I felt bad that she was starting to feel rejected, but the relief was overwhelming.

In the mornings, after I’d spend the night in the club, I’d crawl into bed next to her and pull her small frame tight against my body. I’d breathe her in and silently thank any god willing to listen for keeping her out of harm’s way—for keeping her away from working with criminals.

I knew the relief I was feeling would only last so long. Rosslyn would be a valuable commodity to any program she found herself working for, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before someone realized that. Until then, I relished in her safety, knowing that every minute we weren’t together she was safe, somewhere tucked away from the mean streets of New York and the dangerous criminals who roamed them.

Thinking of all the ways working with criminals could harm Rosslyn had me so distracted that I didn’t even hear Mac come into my office. My head snapped up when he dropped the day’s mail onto my desk. My eyes lingered on the stack of envelopes then I acknowledged him.

“Anything good today, Mac?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on if you think another mysterious letter from our little friend is something good.”

I flipped through the envelopes, finding the one without a return address and its familiar slanted writing.

Shaking my head, I chuckled sarcastically. “This fucker isn’t letting up.”

“Nope.” Mac took the seat in front of my desk and rested his large arms against his thighs. “Ready to let me deal with this now?”

I shook my head as I ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter.

“That won’t be necessary, Mac. Like I said before, I’m sure this guy’s just …”

And then my eyes took in the threatening words that littered the mostly empty sheet of paper.

My body stiffened as anger streaked across my soul.

This letter was different from the rest.

Not only did this fucker mention Rosslyn, but he also signed it with some ridiculous nickname. The script suddenly looked angry and jagged—dangerous. I’d always blown off the bullshit letters thinking it was some head case trying to get his kicks, but this shit was different. This time, it sounded like a threat against what was mine—against my Rosslyn.

“You okay, Black? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Mac asked.

“Find the motherfucker sending these letters, Mac. Find him and bring him to me.”

My eyes locked with Mac’s, understanding passed between the two of us, and he nodded.

“Consider it done.”

I didn’t remember much about the rest of my conversation with Mac, but I did know he left with the intention of bringing me the man responsible for threatening me and threatening what was mine.

Later, once the club had closed for the night, I climbed the stairs to our condo and crept through the place careful not to wake Rosslyn. I went straight into the bathroom and stripped down naked before I stepped under the scalding shower water.

I washed away the night of worry.

I washed away the smell of alcohol and smoke that came with owning a club.

I washed away the regrets that I held.

I should have listened to Mac. I should have sent him on a search for the author of the mystery letters much sooner. And when he brought the person forth, I’d be sure to show them exactly what threatening me or the woman I loved got them.

THE FOLLOWING DAY, ROSSLYN AND I went to sample cakes. I spent the day surrounded by frilly things and flowers, tasting some of the most delicious cakes I’d ever tasted. Still, a sourness settled into my stomach that I knew wouldn’t go away until Mac brought me what I’d asked for.

I pretended all was well and kept a smile plastered on my face even though my heart wasn’t in it completely. It wasn’t that I wasn’t excited about the wedding; it was that I couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was taking away all of my joy. Even when Rosslyn looked up at me with almond crème icing slathered around her sweet lips, I couldn’t feel anything but fear.

I wasn’t afraid of anything.

At least, I never was until I met Rosslyn.

I had so much more to lose now than I did when I was young and stupid.

“And what about the guest list?” the baker asked as she chatted with Rosslyn at my side. “Your mother, your father? All the family will be there?”

Her question was like a lightning strike to my spine. I saw the exact moment that same lightning struck Rosslyn, too. Her back straightened and all the pretty pink hues on her happy cheeks disappeared.

Guilt thickened in my gut with the fear and sourness. Suddenly, I felt as though all the cake I’d tasted came rushing up the back of my throat—sweet and choking.

“Actually,” Rosslyn started before clearing her throat. “My parents are no longer with us.”

No longer with us.

It sounded much better than, “my fiancé murdered my mother and father.”

Which was essentially what I’d done.

Sure as I pulled the trigger myself, I’d killed them.

Thanks to me, their daughter would walk down the aisle without her father on her arm. No one would give her away and it was my fault. There would be no mother there with a gaudy flower pinned to her mother-of-the-bride dress suit. None of that would happen for Rosslyn, and I’d made it so.

As if sensing my inner disturbance, Rosslyn placed a soft hand on top of mine. My eyes met her, and I tried with all that I was to tell her I was sorry in those few seconds that she looked at me, but no words would roll over my thick, dry tongue.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that,” the baker replied.

Sorry.

Was I going to be sorry for the rest of my life?

I would have no more regrets from this moment on. I’d make sure of that, which meant I’d find the person who threatened anything or anyone in my life. And when I found them, I’d kill them, too.

FINALLY, WHEN I WAS ABOUT to give up, I received a call from Judy Lands. She ran the parole and probation department at the local courthouse. Apparently, they were willing to overlook the fact that I hadn’t received my bachelor’s degree yet since I’d had so many glowing recommendations from the different places where I’d volunteered.

This was fabulous news.

Sure, being a probation officer wasn’t ideal. And I was positive Sebastian would blow a gasket when he found out—
if
he found out—but I couldn’t very well turn her down. It was the first callback I’d gotten after weeks of follow-up calls.

“Sure. I can be there at eight on Monday morning,” I replied into the phone.

Technically, I didn’t have the job yet. I still had to go in to interview, and I was required to pass an oral, a written, and a psychological exam. Still, I was excited that something seemed to be moving along in the job hunt.

“Who was that?” Sebastian asked when I set my phone down.

“It was Jennifer from legal aid. She thinks they might have a position for me,” I lied.

My chest ached with my lie. It felt wrong to be untruthful with the man I’d be marrying soon, and I hated myself even more when I looked up and saw the trust in his eyes. He smiled, his dimples deepening and making him look even more gorgeous.

“The place you’ve been volunteering at?”

“Yep. Same place.”

My tongue felt heavy with dishonesty, and I swallowed hard hoping to clear the bile that was starting to rise up the back of my throat.

“That’s great, baby. At least this way I won’t have to worry about you nonstop. Legal aid’s a nice place.”

My insides warmed when he called me baby. Sebastian wasn’t one for pet names. It was either Rosslyn or Jessica if he was feeling frisky. Him calling me baby meant he was very happy with the turn of events. Meanwhile, I felt like total crap for lying to him so easily.

I spent the weekend feeling sick with guilt. Several times, I almost told him the truth, but then I’d think about how badly I wanted to work and help provide—I’d think about how badly I wanted to make a difference—and I’d cave and keep my secret.

On Sundays, I would help with the club. Mostly, I would work in Sebastian’s office filing paperwork and going through invoices. It wasn’t much, but I loved doing little things to help when I could. Sebastian loved the club, and it meant so much to him to watch it succeed. That meant I wanted the same.

I’d been filing for a little over an hour when Mac came in. He came to a halt when he saw me standing there. He was wearing a look of agitation, but he tried to mask it unsuccessfully.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Over the last week or so, Mac had changed toward me. He was anxious—nervous in a way he’d never been before. I didn’t like it.

“I didn’t know you were in here.” He backed toward the door to leave.

“Just filing paperwork,” I said waving invoices around. “I think Sebastian’s in the VIP section. Some liquor emergency.”

He nodded stiffly. “I’ll go check down there.”

“Are you okay, Mac?” I asked before he could escape, which was what he was clearly trying to do.

“Of course.” His poker face wavered. “Are
you
okay?”

His question threw me off.

“Yeah, of course. I’m marrying the man of my dreams, I might have a job, and life is good. What could be wrong, right?”

He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t really expect him to. I knew what I could tell Mac was limited. We might be friends, but ultimately, his loyalty belonged to Sebastian. If he thought I was doing something Sebastian wouldn’t be happy about, he would definitely be the one to tell him.

“Have you ever kept a really big secret because you thought you were doing the right thing?” I asked, suddenly wishing I could take the question back.

He nodded. “Definitely.”

Without another word, he left the room, leaving me staring after him clueless to his new behavior.

INSTEAD OF HAVING MARTIN DRIVE me to my interview on Monday, I took my car. I hardly ever drove it, so it mostly stayed parked. Sebastian bought it for me when I first started my classes at Tech. I’d insisted on walking to and from my classes because I didn’t want Martin to wait around for each of my classes to end to drive me around. It felt wrong. Plus, I was hell-bent on having a normal college experience.

I woke up the day before my first class to a black Honda Civic parked out front. It was brand new— the only miles on the thing were from the dealership to our condo —and it was mine. Sebastian refused to take it back, and after two days of having Martin drive me from class to class, I gave in and accepted the Honda.

I was never gladder that I’d done so. As I drove across town, I was thankful that I didn’t have to include anyone else in my lies. Martin knew where legal aid was, so I couldn’t have him drive me. Martin and I were close, and I was sure he’d pretend to be clueless to my deception, but I couldn’t drag him into this.

No.

Driving myself was a much better idea.

The streets changed before my eyes, going from nice and clean to cracked and trashed. A man stumbled down the sidewalk, obviously drunk as he burrowed into his threadbare coat. I felt terrible doing it, but I reached down and locked my car doors when I stopped at a red light.

I hadn’t been on this side of town in months. Occasionally, when Sebastian would crave a greasy burger from The Pit Stop, we’d drive over and stuff ourselves with unhealthy goodness. Those were some of my favorite times. Days when we would just get in the car, drive to The Pit Stop, and laugh over burgers and fries.

It was as if he were a different person when it was just him and me, and I loved the man he was when he wasn’t being Sebastian Black—club owner extraordinaire. When he was just Sebastian—my boyfriend.

Of course, I felt safe with Sebastian on the wild streets of New York, but driving them alone was a completely different story.

I passed The Pit Stop and smiled to myself. Just looking at the outside of the old run-down building sent my memories reeling. I thought about the first time Sebastian ever took me to the bad side of town and how it almost turned deadly.

Sebastian grinned over at me then looked out the window once more.

“Change of plans, Martin. Let’s go to the other side of town and make a pit stop.”

Instead of the expected expensive restaurant, Sebastian took me to a hole-in-the-wall burger joint called The Pit Stop. It was on the darker side of the city. The outside of the building looked sketchy, and the people who were coming from inside looked even worse.

“Are you that embarrassed by the way I dress?” I tried to control the edge in my voice and avoided all eye contact with him.

“What are you talking about?” He sounded genuinely confused.

Waving my arm, I said, “Didn’t you bring me to this place so I wouldn’t taint your reputation?”

“We really have to control your overactive emotions, Jessica. You’re either hot or cold, and while that might sound appealing sexually, it’s not when outside the bedroom. I didn’t bring you here because your choice of clothing embarrasses me. This is my favorite place to eat heart-failing, artery-clogging hamburgers.”

I didn’t respond to that. Instead, I contained my smiled and followed him in.

This time, Sebastian was the one who stuck out like a sore thumb when we walked in. He held his head high as he moved confidently through the place in his expensive black suit. I covered my smile. The expressions on the faces of everyone around us were comical.

“What?” Sebastian asked when he noticed me staring and smiling.

“You look so out of place here.” I giggled.

He tried hard not to smile, then his dimples deepened and the side of his mouth tilted upward. “Trust me. I’m more comfortable in a place like this than you’d think.”

His words made me wonder about him and where he’d come from. I knew next to nothing about Sebastian, but I suddenly had the desire to. He was an enigma—one who could wear expensive suits but still feel comfortable in the ghettos of New York City.

We took the table in the back, tucked away from the rest of the people in the restaurant.

“Tell me something about you,” I said, folding the napkin nervously in front of me.

When he didn’t respond, I looked up to find him staring at me as if I was his dinner. His eyes drifted from my face, down my neck, and landed on my chest.

“I don’t talk about myself with my girls.”

The strangest thing happened at that moment. I became jealous. It burned at my center as if I had just eaten bad Mexican food. It made no sense because I didn’t have a hold on Sebastian, whatsoever. I seriously doubted anyone in the world did.

“I apologize. I forgot I was just one of your girls. However many there are,” I snapped, looking anywhere but at him. My reaction embarrassed me.

“Are you jealous of the other girls, Jessica?” he asked. His smile was cocky and smug.

“No.”

There was no need to elaborate. I figured my lie would be more believable if I kept it short and sweet.

“Good. You have no reason to be. I haven’t seen or spoken to any of them since the moment I first saw you.”

The burn in my stomach dissolved, and I found myself locked in a heated gaze. Then he turned away and tugged on his collar. He was finally the one uncomfortable, and I gathered he’d said more than he had intended to.

The waitress came and set our food on the table. Big, sloppy burgers full of calories and goodness with a side of fries and heart attack—it was exactly what I needed.

The burger was amazing, and I couldn’t help but moan in appreciation while I chewed.

“Good, right?” he asked around his bite.

“Oh my God, it’s the best burger I’ve ever had.”

And it was. I could totally see myself braving the city streets on occasion for the deliciousness that was my burger.

“This was my favorite place to eat when I was younger,” he said, dipping his fry into the pile of ketchup on his burger wrapper.

I didn’t want to say anything about the fact that he’d told me something personal when I was supposedly just one of his girls. Instead, I smiled and said, “I think it might be my new favorite place. This is fantastic.”

When we were done, and I was good and stuffed, Sebastian threw a hundred dollar bill on the table and stood. I followed him out into the night air, feeling completely satisfied with the food and Sebastian’s company.

Mr. Martin pulled in front of the restaurant as we were walking out. Sebastian opened my door for me and I stepped up to get in.

“Give me your fucking wallet,” a gruff voice said from behind us.

I turned to see Sebastian standing there with a gun stuck to his side. The man holding the gun looked as if he slept on the streets and was definitely on something. He was shaking and antsy like he was dying for another hit of whatever it was he was strung out on. His bloodshot eyes stared at Sebastian as he waited.

“I mean it, motherfucker. Give me your goddamn wallet or I’ll blow a hole in your side and take a little somethin’ from that piece of hot ass with you, too.”

Things were a blur from that point. When Sebastian went for the man, I barely saw him move before he had him on his stomach and the gun to his head.

“Be careful who you try to steal from, fuck face,” he growled, pressing the gun deep into the man’s temple. “I should kill you, but I’m going to let you go because I know this isn’t your corner. Get your ass where you belong or I’ll have Anthony blow your fucking head off. Got it?”

His voice was raw and angry. He spoke like the man who had tried to rob us. I could hardly believe how vicious he sounded. I didn’t blame the man when he nodded his head and ran off.

That was over two years ago, and still, the memory made the hairs on my arms stand on end. It was after that incident when Sebastian taught me how to shoot a gun.

I reached over and patted my purse, feeling comfort knowing that my trusty gun was tucked away in the side pocket.