Motown Breakdown (Motown Down #4) (32 page)

Fucking humans, they were hopeless, and in my story I was giving them all the clap.

Of all the power plays I’ve made in my time, tossing her in the bedroom and locking the door probably did more harm than good. Sun was pissed and the proof was my ringing ears along with the welts on my back where her fists had a field day.  An hour ago, she stopped tearing the room apart and has been quiet since. Focusing on work was impossible, so every thirty minutes I stood outside the door like a clingy chick listening for movement. Now she was typing and from the sounds of it, angrily. Leaving her to it, I head to the kitchen to make dinner.

A few years ago we had a chef, she was fresh out of culinary school and when Marco noticed how attractive she was he sold her to some corporate fuck in Seattle. What was her name? Luna would know. Though the female was only here two weeks, Luna went out of her way to attempt to make friends with her. Like always she was heartbroken when it didn’t last. Women didn’t stay on site for a reason, they were always sold or executed.

Locking Luna in a bedroom was unthinkable. She behaved (mostly), she listened (sometimes), however the woman was also a natural escape artist so I never bothered. Honestly, compared to Sun, she was rather tame. Luna wasn’t a fighter at least not physically. She was tiny, vulnerable, needing protection. With the chicken only needing a few more minutes to cook, I set it on the top rack next to the potatoes setting the sauce to simmer on the range. That done, I open a bottle of wine and put the salad on the table. Was she hungry, or if given the chance, would she stab me with a fork?

“I’m starving,” she says pulling out the chair across from mine.

“How did you manage to get out?” I ask pouring her a glass of wine.

“I told you,” she says taking the glass. “You can’t keep a woman who doesn’t want to be kept.”

“The door was locked,” I point out.

“Yeah,” she says sipping. “
Was
.”

When I narrow my eyes she sighs and crosses her long legs under the table. Leaning on her elbows, she levels me with her gaze and I was helpless to look away. “Foster kids have special skills; we have to in order to adapt. We both needed to cool off so, I did some writing while it was quiet. But the next time you want me out of your hair, ask me to give you space. Don’t,” she says low. “Lock me away.”

“I wasn’t locking you away,” I defend. “But I realized you were close to violence and I was hoping to avoid that.”

“I wasn’t going to resort to violence until you carried me four fucking blocks not caring the blood left my head!”

At the reminder that I did in fact carry her four fucking blocks, I felt my back starting to stiffen up. God, I was out of shape. “I apologize,” I mumble.

“I accept,” she huffs out. When the oven beeped, I went over and took the food out. Making her a plate, I set in front of her and kiss the top of her head. Without acknowledging my show of affection, she waits for me to sit before eating. Maybe I wasn’t well educated on the independent woman but I also wasn’t stupid. “I apologized yet you’re still angry.”

“No I’m not,” she says stabbing the chicken. Great, now she was armed too.

“Sun,” I groan. “Level with me, what did I do?”

Setting her fork down (thank fuck) she purses her lips before speaking. “You dismissed me,” she says flat. “That’s what you did.”

If I needed a reminder that this situation was doomed, this was it. For every hour I spend with her I feel our roles reversing. The killer in me lies dormant while the monster in her rises to the surface, eager and hungry. Whereas I seem to bring out the worst in her, she brings out the best in me. Two and half days in, I’m already willing to do as she says. It bothers me on a base level that I upset her and that I want to fix it. I’ve proven I have no spine when I came back to fuck her, watched her kill Lawrence, threatened Armand and followed her to the God damn market. The thought of her walking away terrifies me so I had to put an end to this now, simple.

“I’m sorry,” she says moving around the table placing her plate in the sink. “This isn’t going to work, Shade. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted it to but I’m not cut out for following orders or staying on the porch like a well-trained puppy. If sex was all you wanted I could handle that too but, it isn’t. You want me to nod and accept it when you discard me and…” she says moving toward the door. “No story is worth being tossed away like that. I’ve been cast aside since I was born. Belonging to you one moment then being treated like a whore the next isn’t what I’m about. So I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, but I’ve got to bounce.”

Here was my out. All I had to do was take it. “You aren’t a whore,” I heard the words come out and couldn’t believe I said them. Or, that I rushed over to her to make her feel better. “Old habits are hard to break,” okay that much was true. “Please,” I whisper for the first fucking time in my life. “Stay.”

“Why?” she asks leaning into my hand.

“Because when you’re near me life feels better in the sun then it does in the shade.” Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I just said that. I really can’t believe I meant it. Apparently the fear of loss will a drive even a man like me to wax poetic.

“I heard somewhere that sunshine is good for the soul.” Wrapping herself around me, I held onto her like a convict getting a conjugal visit. She
was
good for the soul and that’s what I fucking feared the most; finding my own.

27 days…

Last night something changed in Shade. I knew he was ready to kick me to the curb so I beat him to the punch by offering to leave. Then like a switch he looked panicked and asked me to stay. Not knowing what to do, I agreed because I didn’t
want
to go, I thought he
wanted
me to go. Leaving him to his work, I came back to the room to write until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. At some point, he came to bed but he didn’t try waking me. Instead, he curled himself around me and ran his finger over my wrist until he fell asleep.

He also woke before me too.

Grabbing the robe he seemed partial to, I concede in wearing it but leaving the panels open. Making my way to the kitchen, I pour a glass of coffee and seek him out. Dressed, focused and looking hot I find him on the phone in his office. Willing to give him privacy, I back away in favor of a shower. “Sun,” he says covering the receiver. “Join me.”

Curling up in the chair, I listen to him discuss cars, property, and even weapons. His world was fascinating for all of about five minutes. Now I was looking for an escape because I didn’t do boredom. “Bored already?” he asks hanging up.

“It’s a flaw,” I shrug.

“How do you feel about cars?” he asks cocking his head.

“As long as they run, I feel they’re useful, how’s that?”

“Are you a good driver?”

“Ha,” I laugh. “No.”

“No?”

“Okay,” I admit. “Hell no. My license was suspended three years ago.”

“For?”

“Reckless driving.”

“That’s it?” he questions me. “No priors?”

Ugh. “Fine,” I groan. “I might have stolen a car when I was nineteen that was my first charge. Speeding, disobeying stop signs, traffic lights, and construction zones played a part. But it was the reckless driving’s that sealed the deal.”

“Plural?” he asks with wide eyes.

“Six,” I confess. “With time served thank you very much.”

“You went to prison?”

“Worse,” I say rolling my eyes. “Community service.”

Throwing his head back, he laughs really fucking hard and okay, I laughed too. Pushing away from his desk, he comes to me pulling me up from my chair. “You,” he says kissing me hard. “Are my ace in the hole.”

“How so?” I ask.

“Get dressed,” he says slapping my ass. “We have places to be.”

The day was spent collecting money, checking on deals in the works, and eating delicious food. Around ten pm, we parked over by the riverfront talking about everything and nothing. I liked that he touched me a lot. For some reason, I needed to do the same, and I did. Checking his watch, he says, “It’s time.”

Just after midnight, we pull up to an empty warehouse behind the airport. “Why are we here?”

“I’m here to make money,” he says taking my hand. “You’re here to win it for me.”

“Shade,” I moan. “I haven’t hot wired a car in years, if we’re stealing just give me a gun, it’s quicker.”

“No, gorgeous,” he says showcasing that wicked smile. “Not stealing,” rounding the corner my jaw fell open when I saw it. “Racing.”

How did this go on and I
not
know about it? Cars both foreign and vintage were lined up inside of this abandoned space but I didn’t see a track anywhere. That’s when it hit me, racing. I would be street racing. The building to our left may look abandoned too but it certainly wasn’t. Men of all ages gathered inside of it. Some wore gear, others didn’t. As the only female in attendance, I glanced over at Shade again wondering if he was high right now. I didn’t get six reckless driving tickets because the cops were dicks. I got the tickets because I had a tendency to go overboard behind the wheel of a car. Oh and I loved Nascar and Talladega nights.
If you ain’t first you’re last
…

Nodding to those I recognize and sizing up those I don’t, I lead Sun over to an unoccupied corner to fill her in on what to expect. Doing my best to ignore the stares she’s receiving, it helps that she’s oblivious to all of it. Truly, she had no idea how gorgeous she was and that saved some lives tonight.

Taking it all in, she doesn’t look nervous or worried, more like curious and anticipatory. Caging her in, she rests her hands on my hips accepting my proximity. Luna (whether she’d admit it or not) hated being touched all the time. She detested being led anywhere and got downright mean when I felt territorial. Not Sun though, she welcomed my touch. This, in return, made me even more territorial than normal.

“Tell me you can drive a manual or this is all for nothing,” I was kicking myself for not considering this sooner.

“You’ve had your stick in my hand,” she says gripping me. “What do you think?”

“I think,” I groan at her show of confidence. “We’re about to make a lot of money. See that Mustang over there? I own her. That’s the car you’ll race in but, see over there,” I motion casually to the Nissan GT-R. “The driver is good Sun, but beatable. He’s a cocky prick too. I want you to challenge him and when he asks about the payout, you tell him you’re racing for his car. He wants the Mustang, so he’ll do it.”