Menace (Scarlet Scars #1)

by J.M. Darhower

“Fuck, every night... he runs over there. But the sisters, they find out, and they decide, you know, they can’t have that. They can’t let them... fuck.”

“You zone out, I choke you. Whether or not I let go is anybody’s guess. You still okay with this?” I nod, no hesitation. I probably shouldn’t. Hell, I know I shouldn’t.

“Savage little thing, aren’t you? Is that what your Scarlet Letter stands for?” “Not even close.”

“Oh, give me a break, I know you’ve seen a dick before, Firecracker. I hear my brother fucking you all the time.”

“You know what? Fuck you, Lorenzo. Seriously, fuck you. I should’ve known you were completely full of shit when you said you’d respect me, that you wouldn’t do this.” I wave around us, like that’ll help me make sense, as he just stares at me, still chewing. “You’re an asshole. Seriously. I didn’t fuck you last night for money. That wasn’t what it was to me, and maybe it’s what it was for you, whatever, but just, ugh… fuck you.”

“I have to warn you, though. Those shoes were a gift I never asked for, a gift I never wanted, and ever since I got them, I’ve been plagued with terrible luck. I’m not exactly superstitious, but I’d rather not risk it anymore. So take them, if you want them, but just... don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I know what it’s like to be a teenage mother.

Not that I’m disabled, because fuck you, I’m not. I like to think we’re only really limited by our lack of creativity, and I can get pretty creative.

Promises. I hate promises. People break them all the goddamn time.

The woman I never wanted to be. A woman I might never get away from. I miss it all sometimes. I miss the noise. Movies. Music. Laughter. Fun. I miss dancing for the hell of it and playing games. The only time I run anymore is when I’m being chased.

He’s excitement. He’s adrenaline. He makes my heart do stupid shit. Shit my heart shouldn’t be doing.

“Falling doesn’t hurt,” he says. “I imagine it feels nice those few seconds, soaring through the sky.”

“Who?” Lorenzo asks. “You know who,” Markel says. “Morgan.” “Oh, did you find her?” Lorenzo asks. “That was fast.” “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Markel says, losing his temper. “You think you’re funny, but I find nothing funny about you. You are involving yourself in business that has nothing to do with you.”

“I hope you do hear it,” he said. “I hope she crawls out of the Hell she is in and comes for you, kitten. I would enjoy watching that happen.”

I think it’s a kink. Some people like spanking. Others like voyeurism. My brother likes to fuck his girlfriend as she sobs over fictional characters.

Bodies are traitors. They wave red flags.

I’m going to tell you a secret. A big secret. It’s working. What she’s doing, the way she moves? The way her body fits on top of mine, forming to me, warming me? It’s got me feeling some type of way. I want to throw her off and pin her down, fuck her until she can’t even walk and then make her crawl out of my goddamn house. But then I’d just want to drag her right back, because she’s under my skin, and what she’s doing? It’s hot.

“Didn’t have to hire him,” he says. “She’d married the motherfucker, so getting rid of the stepson was more like an anniversary present.”

“I let you have the suka, I let you stick your cock in her, and I did not kill you for it, but if you so much as ever ask about my daughter again, svinya, I will cut off your balls. I do not care what leverage you think you hold over me.”

It had been a good day. She felt happy. Maybe the Tin Man wasn’t so bad. Maybe she should think of him as something else, maybe something like Daddy. Just Daddy.

“You have to be careful who you give pieces of yourself to, because even a little bit here and there adds up to a hell of a lot eventually, and it’s not worth it, losing yourself to them, giving yourself to people who don’t give a fuck about you. You keep pouring yourself into other people and you’ll just wind up empty.”

“And if you survive, when you come back here for payment, don’t let him follow you. I mean it. You endanger my brother, I’ll kill you all myself.”

because fate brought her a man, one who would kill for a sip of the thirst inside of her, who would start a war over that sweet, sweet pussy.”

And this bear, glowing like a beacon on the mantle, is screaming trophy at me. My insides coil, my stomach churning more and more the more I look at it. We’re talking about a man with a reputation for trafficking women. He’s in the business of selling bodies. I’m putting nothing past him.

I don’t think, just react, pulling my gun out and cocking the son of a bitch, aiming it at his forehead. Seconds. Mere seconds. That was all it took. My finger hovers on the trigger, lightly pressing it. I’ll blow his fucking brains out. What kind of sick fuck messes with a little girl? He stares at me. He doesn’t cower. Doesn’t beg. Doesn’t ask those stupid questions I always get.

Buster.

“I swear to God, if you throw yourself off this roof, I’m jumping after you, and I’m going to catch you.”

Tears burn my eyes, obscuring my vision. Buster is right there, inches from my face.

I cry. Fuck it. I can’t hold it back anymore.

“Buster was her security blanket. She loved this bear. She carried him everywhere. She wouldn’t... she wouldn’t just give him up. Especially now. She’s gotta be terrified. She just turned five, and she’s never been away from me until this happened, and now... now she’s really alone, and there’s nothing I can do to help her.”

“Believe it or not, you make him nicer. It softens us, love. It makes us all squishy. But sometimes that same love becomes a liability.”