Sweet Pain (The Club #18) (4 page)

Chapter 5

I was summoned to Tally’s office. I didn’t really have time for this bullshit, but when Tally called you and told you to come in, you didn’t brush her off.

That was the end of any contact in the Lifestyle. And the golden rule in the Club. Never piss off Mistress.

I knocked, and a moment later, she invited me in with the sternest tone I had ever heard her use on me. She was tapping some papers into piles and barely looked up when I sat down.

“So.” Tally put the papers in her stand-up organizer. “Your little submissive the other night.”

“Gianna, yes.”

“She’s a prostitute.”

I tipped my head. “I thought we didn’t discriminate.”

Her fist hit the table. “Abernathy. This place exists still because of a few fine lines that we tread. We run as a bed and breakfast, and not a cheap pay-by-the-hour hotel.”

“She wasn’t here as a prostitute.”

“That’s not what I heard. I heard you picked her up on the corner.”

I stared at her. “I pick up a lot of people on corners. I’ve been picked up on corners.”

“Abernathy. This is not a joking matter. People depend on this place. I depend on this place. This is not a game we’re playing. We’ve always trusted you to be discrete, and this was the farthest thing from it.”

I folded my hands on the desk. “I don’t think that you had a problem when she was on the spanking bench.”

Tally stared at me. “I’m an iota from kicking your disrespecting ass out of my Club.”

“Because I called you on hypocrisy?”

Her chest heaved, and I could see I was playing with fire. I had no idea she was calling me in to call me to the carpet for something like this. I leaned forward. “Mistress. Please understand. This is a mix-up. I didn’t know she was a prostitute when I picked her up on the corner”
—
I stabbed the table with my finger
—
“where I had agreed to pick up someone else. But she went along with, and I think there’s more to her than just drugging and fucking. I’ve been following her to find out if I’m right.”

“This was a mistake?”

“A mix-up. I’m not calling it a mistake anymore. I think she belongs here.”

Tally sat back in the chair. “One of our patrons recognized her and was offended.”

I couldn’t stop the smirk. “Ever stop and wonder how they knew she was a prostitute?”

“He…” Tally stopped and stared at me. “Well. I wanted to argue his position in our community, but that doesn’t make a hill of beans, does it?”

“Not unless it’s the county prosecutor and I know he’s not here.”

“You’re following her.”

“I am. She’s trying to score. It’s not working. I won’t let her get too far in this.”

“Don’t let
yourself
get too far into this.”

“Am I forgiven?”

“I think so. Watch your ass.”

*  *  *

The cold, sharp object against my neck felt nice. I was soaked in sweat and unsure of where I was.

“What the fuck are you doing on my couch?”

Shit
. Melissa.

The knife poked into my skin. As much as I thought I liked pain, I didn’t want my throat slit. How long had I been out? Sickness moved through me as I forced my eyes open.

“Listen.” My voice croaked. “I’m leaving. Just needed a place to crash for a few hours.”

“Get up. Get the fuck up, you little bitch.”

Slowly, so as not to jab the blade into my throat, I stood up. My legs tried to buckle, so I leaned on the arm of the chair.

“You screw him?”

“Jesus, Melissa. Put the knife down. She showed up sick as shit, snorted some lines, and passed out.”

James had come in at the right time. I took the opportunity to move away from Melissa and stood behind him.

“You screwing her?” Melissa gestured at me with the knife.

“Stop being a dumb bitch.”

“Get her the hell out of here, James. All we need is for the landlord to see some coke whore squatter in here.”

“Come on, Gia, I’ll take you home.” James opened the door for me, and I went outside.

When we hit the sidewalk, I heard her screeching voice behind me. “You don’t go anywhere with my man without me.”

So the merry band of three piled into the front and only seat of James’ Toyota truck, heading toward my place. I was supposed to be at work. Trying to remember where my phone could be, I searched my limited memory. I was sure it had to be full of missed messages.

James pulled up in front of my apartment. I hadn’t realized Melissa still had the knife until she pushed it into my side.

“Give me my fucking clothes.”

I should have known that was coming. Of course James had given me her clothes.

“Where the hell did you have that thing?”

James obviously also thought she’d put the knife down. I took the pants and shirt off and got out of the truck, completely exposed once again. Even though I took my clothes off a lot for money, and I hadn’t minded being naked in front of Abernathy’s little crowd, there was something about being out in the open as I was.

When I went into my apartment, I enjoyed the colorful words Melissa was screaming at me from the truck. My neighbors were all around, watching me walk in with just my underwear on. Nine o’clock was their prime time for sitting on the porch and drinking. I needed my cell phone. The dope sickness was sinking back in, and I needed a plan. I knew Delilah had meth. It was certainly not my drug of choice, but it was something I could get. She’d be bitchy about it, and I’d have to give her something good. Our apartment complex only had a couple of people with legitimate jobs. That meant there wasn’t anything to steal from the people around me.

Across the street, there were a few houses. I decided I could probably get something there if I was quick and didn’t get too greedy. They were trusting people despite the trash they lived across from. I dug in my closet and found some sweatpants and a T-shirt. I grabbed one of Darnell’s many cheap ass hats he bought at the gas station and made my way back outside. The knives were back in my stomach, and my head was woozy from the oxycodone wearing off.

Once I’d stumbled off the porch of some well-to-do homemaker while she bathed her kids in the back of the house, I had something. There was a diamond necklace and what I hoped was expensive perfume. Now to bribe Delilah. Her apartment was on the other side of the building. I rushed through my body fighting me every step of the way. I just had to get to her door.

It was around ten o’clock by now. My vision blurred as I walked up and banged with my pithy offering. Chances were clueless mom wouldn’t even realize they were gone.

No one was answering the door. She wasn’t home
—
no, that couldn’t be right. I banged on her door and yelled.

“Delilah, I know you’re in there.”

“What in the hell are you screaming about out here?” A woman came out of her apartment next door.

“Where’s Delilah?” I was crying now, the desperation manifesting in tears and clawing at the door with my nails.

“She was arrested today. They came and got her ass around noon. Serves her right trying to sell out of her house.”

God, that was right, she sold out of her house. But I could still find some. I picked a heavy cement planter off the sidewalk and brought it down on the doorknob. It didn’t come off.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I tried again.

“I’m calling the police. This whole damn place is just full of crazy bitches.” The woman went back inside.

I couldn’t sit in jail as sick as I was, so I took off behind the building. Lonnie stood there next to a blue car and leaned through the window. The guy was giving him something
—
a bag.

Holy shit, Lonnie had dope.

I didn’t think. I just ran toward him. “Lonnie, please God, let me have a hit. Please.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Gia?” Lonnie looked pissed, but I ignored him.

“I’m so sick.” I grabbed his arm, and he pushed me away.

“Good luck with that shit,” the driver of the blue car said and drove away.

He slapped me hard, and a little shiver of something went through me. It wasn’t quite a pleasure, but it cut through the fog for a split second. He tucked away the dope and crossed his arms in the front. There was no way I was getting it.

“Hit me again,” I said, leaning into his face. It was half a dare, half a plea.

“You’re one crazy bitch,” Lonnie said. This time, he backhanded me hard in the mouth. I felt blood pool on my tongue.

This time, it cut through the dope fog a little more, but it wasn’t the same pain that had helped last time. I couldn’t fucking understand why it wasn’t working.

“Really hurt me, you pussy. Do it,” I was yelling in his face.

Lonnie didn’t have any trouble hitting a girl
—
especially if she was asking for it. He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back at a weird angle. “I am going to hurt you. You can’t just run around here screaming about dope like that.”

He pulled it harder, and I felt it pop out of place. The pain radiated from my shoulder down my arm and up my neck. I cried out in pain, not a good pain. I’d gone too far.

Pushing me down on the ground, he kicked me hard in the stomach. I doubled over, curling into a ball. I watched him light a cigarette and kneel next to me. I’d definitely gone too far. Closing my eyes tightly, I waited for the burn as he brought it down to my neck.

Fuck. Why was I so screwed up?

Chapter 6

I couldn’t watch anymore. 

I pushed my door open and stood from the car, grabbing a pair of brass knuckles and made my way over to the alley where this pretty little woman was willingly letting her dealer beat the shit out of her. 

Marching up, I grabbed him by the collar and jerked him back away from Gianna. Seconds before the cigarette he’d lit gored her face. “The fuck is wrong with you?” 

He swung at me before he realized how big I was. Even then, I was pretty sure he was sampling his products and had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

Just because I was dressed in a pair of Hugo Boss pants, a crisp white Tom Ford button-down, and a casual pair of Fendi deck shoes didn’t mean I didn’t know how to fight. I was a Dom
—
I could take down anyone. 

With a well-aimed fist, I punched the dealer in his face, and he staggered back into the wall. No brass knuckles needed. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” I snapped the words at him. “Beating up women? Did your mother teach you no sense?” 

“Bitch was asking—”

A right hook into his kidney shut him up. “You don’t hit women, asshole.” 

“Owes me money.” 

“Take her to court.”

The dealer snorted derisively.

“Oh, drug money. For the whole ounce you gave her two days ago? You that hard up for cash, fucker?” 

“She’s got a tab.” 

“Abernathy…no…” Gianna’s weak plea barely reached my ears from the ground near my feet. “I owe him.” 

The dealer started to walk toward her. Slamming him against the wall, this time making sure his head hit, I held him there and stuck a finger in his face. “Move and I will relieve you of your testes. Get me?” 

He nodded. And as soon as I let go, he lunged for Gianna. 

Idiot. 

I tripped him, and he slammed head first into the dumpster on the other side. He hit the ground and rolled over, and now had a gun in his hand. He was too disoriented to aim, so I kicked it out of his hand and farther down the alleyway. 

In a single stride, I was over to him, with my other foot pinning his wrist. 

“How much?”

“Wha…?” He was out of it; no doubt concussed and would have a marvelous headache. 

“How much does she owe you?” 

“Don’t, Abernathy…” Gianna’s voice was a little weaker than before.

“Hush, precious.” I grabbed the dealer’s coat. “How. Much?” 

“Eight fifty.” 

“For just that last hit?” 

“She gotta rep for not paying.”

“She pays in sexual favors, asshole. And you accept them.” I tossed his head back against the dumpster and pulled out my wallet, thumbing out ten one-hundred-dollar bills and folding them in half, stuffing them in his face. “You take this, and you stay the fuck away from her from now on.” 

Head trauma or not, that asshole snatched that money out of my hand faster than a jack rabbit on speed. He managed a quick stagger to his feet as well, and was gone from sight in the next instant.

Finally, I was able to turn to Gianna and assess what had happened to her. She had a shiner growing already, and her cheek had a nasty cut in it. There was a bruise on her forehead, and it looked like her shoulder had been dislocated. I knelt down
—
I might be wearing Hugo Boss pants, but I also realized I cared more about this little thing than I had been willing to admit to this point.

“What did you do, silly woman?”

“You should have let him hit me.” Her voice was weak and wistful.

“Why the hell would I do that?” 

She turned away from me. “You know why.” 

“Do I?” 

Gianna whipped her head around and focused on my face. “No fix I’ve tried since I left the Club has come close to the fucking high you gave me with all that sweet pain.” 

She gasped and passed out. 

Well. 

I gathered the precious creature into my arms, heading for my car. I was careful loading her in. Her shoulder was definitely dislocated and the cut on her cheek needed attention. After buckling her in and climbing in myself, I pressed the Bluetooth and asked it to dial. “Call Mak.” 

Two rings and he answered. “What’s up, Nate?” 

“I need Doc to come to my house.” 

“Everything okay?” 

“I’m fine, but that sub I brought in
—
”

“The prostitute? That Tally nearly banned you for?” 

I sighed. “Yeah, her. She’s been beaten up something awful, and I would rather not take her to the hospital if I can help it.” 

“Let me talk to him, and I’ll let you know. Why no hospital?” 

“Because you just called her a prostitute. And I don’t want them treating her like that.” I hung up. 

I looked in the rearview as I drove toward my house. Gianna was passed out, and I realized how young she was. I wasn’t old, but she had a touch of deception with her street smarts and attitude. But unconscious, it was easy to see her pretty, young face. 

It was…odd. Never had I ever felt this close of a connection with a sub this fast. How had one chance meeting with a girl looking to a trick for blow turned me upside down? I wanted to help her
—
and it wasn’t pity or some sense of obligation that spurred me to that feeling. I looked at her and I saw a young woman that life had shit on, who had a good soul, a natural curiosity for things. In that one night, I felt tied to her. 

Smirking, I knew she would be pissed that I had been following her. I couldn’t blame her. But I would make sure that no matter what she decided, she would be whole when she left my care. 

The Bluetooth pinged and read the text to me in its robotic voice. “Don’t ever pull that alpha shit on me, Nate. The doc will be at your house in half an hour.” 

I grunted. I owed the guy an apology.

*  *  *

I must’ve been out for hours. My mouth was dry, and my legs were stiff. 

The pummeling Lonnie had given me came back full force, and I shot straight up. 

But he was nowhere around, and the move was dumb
—
my shoulder hurt like a mofo, and my right eye wasn’t opening all the way. Touching my face gently, I felt the shiner there. I saw I was wearing a pair of men’s athletic pants and a plain white T-shirt.

Looking around, I tried to figure out where I was, but I didn’t recognize a thing. It wasn’t a hospital
—
the curtains were too nice and there was a rug and wood furniture. It was kind of nice to not smell industrial cleaning products, too. 

On the nightstand was a huge bottle of water and a cup that I was going to guess had two Tylenol in it. 

But if I wasn’t in the hospital, where the hell was I? 

I grabbed the cup and popped the water open, glad someone had thought of it. It seemed safe here. But I could feel the dope sickness starting to tingle in my fingers. I needed a fix, soon. 

Letting my breath out, I slumped on the bed. What the hell was the point of trying to get a fix when the only thing I’d been chasing all this time was the pain high? 

Fuck, that was probably the reason I was a junkie. I wanted someone to hurt me and I couldn’t deal with that shit. Total mind fuck. Get high so you don’t want to get hurt. 

The rush I’d been trying to find for two damn days finally happened when Lonnie slammed me into the wall, dislocating my shoulder. The rush was there. Dopamine. Adrenaline. Sweet fucking pain. 

I was so fucked up. 

Abernathy
. 

My brain remembered that detail
—
he showed up. And it was just about the time Lonnie was going on me. 

With no warning, I started shaking and crying. Huge sobs that shook the bed and made my shoulder send hot pain through my arm
—
which turned me on. And that just made me cry harder.

The door opened a minute later, and Abernathy trotted in. 

“Hey now, what’s wrong?” He knelt in front of me. 

“You followed me, you dick!” I took a swing, but the shoulder didn’t want to work with me. “You stopped him from beating me up! Where the hell am I? What the fuck is going on?”

His big hands wrapped around my fists that were flying around, trying to hit him. “Come on, Gianna. Deep breath. Relax. I know you’re upset.” 

I didn’t want to calm down. “You fucked me up!” 

“No, darling, I didn’t. I made you realize something about you.” He held my fist a little tighter. “Could you stop swinging at me? I can help you. But you have to stop trying to hit me.”

“I don’t want to! I want to kick you in the face! I want to find a fix and I want to go back to being a whore!”

His face dropped and he suddenly looked sad. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t know…”

“Stop calling me darling!” 

Darling meant that he gave a shit about me and I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want anyone to care about me. I wanted to go back to the apartment with Darnell and just get high and go back to pretending I didn’t know I liked pain.

“You don’t have to live that life, Gianna.” 

“You fucking reading my mind?”

“I don’t have to. I can read your body.”

I slapped him. “Fuck you.” 

“What’s scaring you?” 

That was a big question. “I like pain. Who the fuck likes pain?” 

“Lots of people. Masochists, their called. Some like just a touch and some like a lot. You, I think are a middle of the road kind of girl.”

What? There was a name for this shit? I stared at him. He was a good-looking man, and there was honesty in his face. I didn’t get to see that in a lot of people. It was nice. 

“Why? Why do you want to show me this kinky shit?”

“Because I like kinky shit myself. I also think you don’t really want to go back to the street corner, or doping up every chance you get.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.” 

That hit me. No one had wanted to get to know me
—
Gianna, the person
—
in years. It was always only what I could do for them. This guy wanted to know me. I didn’t have an answer. There was nothing smart-ass or otherwise. 

He lifted himself to his full height, and I realized how big he was. Physically large, and
—
oops. 

Well hung. Especially if those were tighty-whities. I giggled, imagining this massive alpha male in Hanes tighty-whities. 

Turning his head, he stared at me. “What’s funny?” 

Trying to stop the giggle, I swallowed loudly. “Um…nothing.” 

“No lies, Gia. If you want to find out how I can help you kick the drugs and still get you high, no lies.” 

I cleared my throat. “I just had a funny thought.” 

“About?” His eyebrow went up.

“Your…underwear.” 

His laugh was great and gave me a little chill. “I’m not wearing any.” 

I really wanted to reach out and touch the front of his pants and see if he was lying. His massive hand reached out for me. “Come on. I want you to trust me. I have to trust you. You can peek at my dick later.” 

“Do you promise?” 

The dark look he gave me made me think I had gone too far, but a smile replaced it a moment later. “We’ll see.” He took my hand and dragged me out of the room.

My skin was really crawling now, and I was going to need a fix soon. But he wanted me to see his house, to trust him. Something told me that was important to him. I played along. I didn’t know how I was going to get out of this and get something in me.

But the room he pulled me into distracted me. It was cream, with pops of color. It was cozy. And that’s not what I thought of when I thought of Abernathy. 

Of course, when had I started thinking about Abernathy as anyone else but the guy who smacked my ass? 

“This…isn’t you. You drive sleek fast cars and wear Versace.”

His smile was crooked. “Yeah, actually this is me. I live simply. I spoil myself when it comes to everything else. I dress like a scrub at work, so putting on Versace and driving a Lexus makes me feel like it’s worth it.” 

“What do you do? I mean, aren’t you a Dom?” 

“That’s a lifestyle choice,” he answered. “Not a living. I get up each morning and go to work like any good little tax payer. I work my forty hours, and then I spoil myself.” 

“What…what do you do?” 

“I run a construction company.” 

“Holy shit, A. McDowell Triple C.”

“Concrete and Construction, that’s our name.” He almost sang the jingle I’d heard over and over on the television. 

“Your dad?” 

“Me da, yes.” He swept a hand around the room. “And my mother helped me decorate. She loved helping with staging and making things look put together.” He was sad, suddenly. Not the big tough alpha. “She did love this house.”