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10
MILA
I wake to an empty apartment, which is a luxury when you’re crashing on a couch. I get up and make myself a coffee, before immediately curling back up under my blanket to enjoy the latest TheFixerUppers content. There are a couple renovation updates that I don’t pay much attention to, and then I let out an excited squeal when I see they listened to my request. It’s a slow pan over their tattoos, with each of them wearing nothing but slightly too small towels around their waists.
Oh. My. God.
Mack has a swirl of ink on his thigh that vanishes under the towel, and it’s impossible not to notice his… hugeness just underneath the fuzzy cotton. Reaper’s back tattoo is on full display, the massive scythe stretching from his shoulders down to the dips in his back right above where his perfect butt is covered. I lick my lips as the camera pans down Scrapper’s side, showing off his lean fighter’s build and the dragon that’s curled around his entire leg.
The most liked comment is: “It looked at me first!” followed by a bunch of eggplant and water emojis.
I’m not jealous. Obviously. I have no reason to be jealous.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
I loved the night I had with them, but what am I supposed to do? Go back just to get laid?
Okay, that actually doesn't sound half bad out loud, but in the long run I don’t think I could do it without developing feelings. It’s better to just have fun through messages where nobody is getting hurt, and hang on to the memories I have. And the videos and pictures.
Definitely the videos and pictures.
My hand creeps under the blanket, pushing under the waist of my pajama pants and between my legs. I bring up my direct messages and grin. The whole world can have their other videos, but these are for my eyes only. There’s one new one. It’s Mack, a shot of him from behind in the shower, where his one hand is against the back wall, and the other is moving quickly between his legs. Because of the angle of the shot, I can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but my own fingers fall into rhythm with this movement of his arm. Water slides down his naked body, and I can hear his deep, throaty groans. It’s over too quickly. I bite my lip and stiffen on the couch as my orgasm washes over me just as Mack’s head falls back and his muscular ass clenches.
Heart racing, I swallow hard and slump back in my makeshift bed. There are worse ways to start the day.
A regular text comes in from an unknown number. I’ve been thinking about what you said and I have information I think you would be interested in. Can we meet tonight? HM. Right after, he sends an address and a time.
Well, that's unexpected. HM. Hank Mullerby. It has to be.
But why? What made him change his mind suddenly and decide he wants to talk to me? Does he really want to do the right thing? Right from the start I was sure that if something was going on, he wasn’t the only one. If his record was better than average, he might be taking money on the side and splitting it with a prosecutor or a judge, but worse than average? Who would pay to go to jail longer? No, but someone has to have something to gain or it wouldn’t be happening.
It could be a trap.
But if he's got information that can help free Danny, I have to check it out. I check the address he sent. It's a little out of the way, but not a bad part of town or anything. Pretty close to the college, actually. I can get there with a short bus ride when I’m done with my last class.
I can't say no.
I tap out a quick reply, saying I'll be there.
A few hours later, I'm getting off the bus, looking around like a spy on a mission. Meghan’s stuck at work tonight and she’s not thrilled about me going alone, but it is what it is. I've got one hand on the pepper spray in my pocket, and the other on my phone, following the map to our meeting spot.
The street is pretty busy near the bus stop, but it gets quiet fast. Quieter than I like. The street the map sends me down isn’t an alley exactly, but it’s not much more than that, either. A chill of unease settles in my bones, and I half consider turning to make a run for it. This is definitely the kind of risk Danny warned me about, but nothing worthwhile is without risk. And Danny's worthwhile, even if he doesn't agree.
I text a ping to Meghan, just to show where I am, and she responds with a thumbs up, almost immediately.
The corner Mullerby indicated is empty. There's a streetlight there, but the bulb is out, so I hang back at the one before it, which is still throwing unnatural yellow-white light on the street. In a city, it's never completely dark, with ambient light from apartment windows, stores, billboards, whatever, but this is probably about as close as it gets. I'm getting a bad feeling about this.
He's not even here. I should go home before something happens.
But then there's movement. I peer towards the corner. There’s a figure about Mullerby’s height in a baseball cap. He’s facing the other way, and standing in the circle of darkness created by the broken light. He waves, beckoning me to come closer. Why doesn't he come over here instead, where we can see each other? There's no one else here, either way.
Clutching my pepper spray tight, I move closer.
“Mr. Mullerby?”
A massive hand grabs my face from behind, pressing its palm into my mouth and muffling my surprised gurgle. I'm dragged into a hard, unforgiving embrace as whoever grabbed me puts a steely arm around my waist and locks me in place with my arms pinned to my side. My fingers brush the pepper spray, but I can’t move enough for it to do any good. Unless I can wrench loose from this guy, who's got to be three times my size, I won’t get the chance to use it.
