On Edge: Rolling Asylum Motorcycle Series, #1

PROLOGUE

JAKE JAGGER KORTE

25 YEARS AGO…

Who knew what would happen if they saw me?

I crouched behind the couch, and the smell of dingy fabric closed in on me. I covered my ears and squinted my eyes shut. But I heard it all. The screaming and crashing down the hall towards my parents’ bedroom. My stomach cramped…I was hungry, but I remained frozen in my hiding spot. Eventually, the yelling got closer, and I tried to make myself smaller. I tucked into the far corner between the wall and the couch. Hoping it would be over soon, I rocked back and forth a tiny bit, trying to ease my nerves.

You fucking bitch. I should get me a real woman and toss you and that brat out, Dad snarled.

Oh, yeah? I should get me a real man. Not a drunk bastard, Mom screeched.

You’re going to pay for that, Dad said in a deadly calm voice I knew too well.

I heard slapping, followed by my mom’s screams. My eyes popped wide open when she made a gurgling sound and the furniture slammed against the wall. It bounced off my body, but I was small enough it wouldn’t squish me. I bit my lip and breathed noisily through my nose, so I covered my mouth and nose with one hand. A few tears tracked down my face, and I hastily wiped them away, berating myself for being a baby. I heard Father’s grunts and Mom sobbing as the couch banged into the wall.

Over and over and over.

And over and over, I flinched.

Then silence, followed by a loud slap and a scream from Mom.

That will teach you, bitch.

Heavy footsteps and then a loud bang as the front door slammed. Hard enough that it shook the whole house. I was glad he was gone. When he was gone, I only had to deal with Mom. I wiped my nose, crept on the floor to the edge of the couch and peeked out. Mom was sniffling on the sofa, so I didn’t dare leave my hiding place. I scooted back a little bit, lay on the dirty floor and waited. When mom got a beating, I knew I’d be next. So, I knew if I made my presence known now, she would take out all her anger on me. I didn’t have to wait long until she was gone, too. Wary of any sound that warned me they were back, I crawled out from my hiding spot and stood up.

I hurried to the kitchen as painful cramps hurt my stomach and opened the fridge to find nothing except moldy butter. Scraping off the mold, I wiped it on my pants and ate the rest with my fingers. I opened the lower cabinets and scared away the cockroaches. Nothing. Scooting a chair near the cabinets, I climbed up. I found a handful of stale chips and ate them. On the floor once again, I wiped my eyes. But I didn’t cry. Fending for myself was better than them being home.

It was almost dark when I left through the back door. I dug through the neighbor’s trash and found a chicken bone with a little bit of meat on it. I sucked on it until it was clean. Accidentally, I dumped the trash over and an old black woman came out of the trailer.

Get, you pesky cats, she hollered. I hid in the shadows, but she saw me. Hey, what are you doing going through my trash?

I wasn’t quick enough to escape her grasp. I flayed my arms and kicked, but I made no sound. Beatings were worse if I cried.

Boy, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. She got down on my level, and I wiped the grime on my face. I was alert to any sudden moves, but all she did was look at me. I’m Cellie. What’s your name, boy?

I hesitated. She had her hair in a tight bun and was wearing a pink fuzzy robe. She wasn’t yelling at me like my parents did. I cleared my throat. Jake.

Don’t you live at the end of the trailer park?

I nodded, my stomach cramped again, and made a growl.

She peered at me for a few minutes. I’ll make you a deal. If you take a bath, I’ll fix you some supper.

I wrinkled my nose. I hated baths but loved supper. Hesitantly, I nodded, and she smiled. She had a nice smile and pointed to her house. When I walked through the door, I stopped. Wide-eyed, I looked around her place. The floor was clean. There were colorful curtains hanging from her windows, and it smelled nice. There weren’t holes in the walls or bugs crawling around. It was warm and soft. Not like my house at all. She led me to the bathroom.

Do you need help with your bath?

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. I’m not a baby.

She smiled kindly and chuckled. Okay. But wash everywhere, even behind your ears and in-between your toes. And I’ll wash your clothes. You can put on an old tee of mine in the meantime. Deal? She turned the water on in the bathtub.

I was barefoot and took off my pants and shirt and stepped into the tub.

Do you not have any underwear, Jake? She furrowed her brows as she looked at me. Water filled her eyes. She looked like she was about to cry, but I didn’t know why.

I shook my head. She wiped away one tear and reached to pat my head. I immediately ducked and scrambled to the other side of the tub.

She pulled her hand back to cover her mouth. You’re safe here, Jake. I won’t hurt you.

I blinked, then frowned. She nodded and left me alone. The water was warm and felt nice. My house only had cold water. I poured the soap into my hands and slapped it on my head. The soap smelled like flowers, so I hope she kept her promise. Cause I smelled like a girl. I froze when she came back in, but she only placed a shirt and towel in the bathroom, then left. She didn’t try to touch me.

A little while later, I walked out of the bathroom with the shirt sticking to me and stopped at the table. It smelled so good. There were biscuits, gravy, eggs, and bacon. I sat at the table and shoved a whole biscuit in my mouth.

There’s no rush. Take your time so you won’t get sick.

I spit half of the biscuit out in my hand, chewed the remaining half and swallowed and repeated the process with the other half. I scooped the gravy with my hand and put it in my mouth. It was so good and creamy. I closed my eyes briefly and looked at Cellie. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

I think this will help. She handed me a spoon.

I grabbed the spoon with a gravy-covered left hand and scooped up the eggs. I’d never tasted food so yummy. I gave her a small smile while I picked up some bacon and stuffed it all in my mouth.

She chuckled. Do you like it?

I nodded my head vigorously. So good, I said with a mouthful.

11 YEARS LATER…

I sat on the threadbare sofa, smoking a joint. That, combined with the half-empty bottle of Jack, helped numb the pain. Not from my black eye, or even the bruised ribs, making me wince with every breath. More for the gash across my damned soul from the man who left the marks…my old man. The Prick.

But the fucker was out. Even though Mom was as bruised and beaten as I was, she still railed at me for making Dad leave. Made no damn sense. I was sixteen. I shouldn’t have been the one to fight for her. I shouldn’t be the one to tell Mom to shut the fuck up. Finally, I shoved her into the bedroom and locked her in, while she threw things at the door, screaming at me.

Yeah, that sick fucker had put sliding locks on the outside of every door in the run-down trailer. At the moment, it helped keep Mom from inflicting more damage to my body. But her words echoed crystal clear from her room down the hall.

I should have aborted you when I had the chance, she yelled as another something crashed against the door.

I should’ve left. It would have been a hell of a lot easier. Why I even gave a shit about my mother was beyond me. Some tiny part I couldn’t exorcise from my head wanted to protect her. Wanted what every child wants…at least one parent to love.

I inhaled another drag and followed it with another long drink. Yeah, I should’ve left her to rot. I eyed my swelling left wrist. That was going to be a problem. It was broken, or at the very least, cracked. I stubbed out the joint with a shaking right hand and stood.

Damn, that hurt too.

Let me out, you lil bastard, she screamed again, and the doorframe rattled at her attempt to open it.

You should thank me. He won’t be beating on you anymore, I replied and leaned against the flimsy wood paneling lining the hallway.

How are we going to pay the bills? We can’t survive without him. She shook the doorknob again. You’ve ruined everything!

That was a lie. Prick didn’t pay for shit. He drank the bill money, and Mom sold her body to feed her drug habit. I scrubbed a hand over my shaggy hair and dropped my head. Pain radiated through my body. I would have to work more to pay for the roof over our head. Mom was as worthless as Dad.

But first, I needed to get my wrist looked at. For that, I had to leave and if I left her locked in the room, she would bust out the window. Unlocking and opening it would never occur to her. I sighed, trudged down the hall, braced myself and slid the lock open.

The door flew open, and she slapped me so hard my ears rang. I turned on my heel and headed toward the door. Blows rained down on my back, but I barely felt her small fists hitting me. Her words, on the other hand, left marks no amount of time could undo.

I ducked out the door, hopped in my old truck, and took off. I hoped I stayed conscious long enough to reach my best friend’s house. Tony didn’t live far, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world.

It could have been hours, or moments, but somehow, I made it and climbed the steps to Tony’s home. His parents, Maria and Carl, were more like my family every day.

I swayed on my feet and my bruised knuckles knocked on the pristine white wood. My vision swam. Not much longer. Soon oblivion would swallow me up. The door opened and Maria gasped.

Carl! Come quick. She tried to catch me when I fell, but the most she could do was keep my head from bouncing off the floor. Oh, my poor boy. What have they done to you this time?

Her soft, caring words washed over me, and I could breathe. Darkness swamped me, carrying me into oblivion.

Later, I sat in the ER as the doctor scowled. You say you were jumped, and your parents are out of town?

Yes, sir. Didn’t take a genius to figure out the doc thought I was lying. I was. But no way in hell would I tell him the truth. My knee bounced, and I looked down at my casted wrist.

Of course…it was broken.

This seems to happen quite often, the doc said as he looked through my chart. Maybe you need to run with a different crowd or…

I wasn’t following that trail off. I was a lot of things, stupid wasn’t one of them. They would put me in the system. They would take me away from the only family I knew…the Paganos. Tony’s family. All I had to do was get through high school. I was locked into Automotive Service Tech for my last two years of high school. Fully paid. No way would I jeopardize my ticket to a secure future.

Maria and Carl stepped into the room. They wouldn’t tell the doc the truth either. They wouldn’t do that to me.

He is free to go.

I slid off the table and tugged my dirty shirt over my bruised body. I wouldn’t look at Maria. She’d seen me beaten before, but this time it was worse, and I couldn’t face the tears I knew would be in her eyes.

The car ride back to their house remained silent except for a sniffle from Maria every now and then. Tony whipped open the front door when we rolled onto the gravel drive.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. They really did it this time.

I would have shrugged, but it hurt to breathe. As everyone walked in the house, the door snapped shut hard behind me, and I turned.

That’s it. You’re moving in here. Maria’s voice shook with anger. I’ll not tolerate this anymore. They’ve hurt you for the last time.

I lifted my gaze to Maria’s, then Carl’s. I can’t. I ran Tomas off. Jenny will need me. Which was true. Mom couldn’t function without my old man around. She couldn’t function with me around either…but that was an entirely different problem.

Maria’s lips parted. You kicked your dad out?

Yeah. I think he would’ve killed her this time. If I leave now, she will end up on the streets.

You are a kid. She is the parent⁠—

I know. It’s fu—messed up. I cussed like a sailor most of the time, but I tried to rein it in around the Paganos. They deserved respect. The only people I had any respect for.

Carl put his hand on Maria’s shoulder to silence her and said, You’re welcome here anytime, and if you need anything, let us know.

It was the same line of words he always said when I showed up busted and bleeding.

Defeat marred Maria’s face. She walked toward me, and I stiffened. She wanted to hug me. Her arms reached up and then fell. I didn’t hug. Didn’t know how to accept them. Four years I’d been welcomed into their fold like family, and I still didn’t know how to not flinch when she tried to touch me. She settled on patting my arm.

Always. Anytime. Okay, baby.

I nodded, and my heart thumped like a drum. In my mind, Maria was my mom, even though I still didn’t say much to her.

She’d been there through my nightmares.

Tended my wounds. Fed me. Made sure I had clean clothes. She even made a Christmas stocking with my name on it for the mantel. It matched Tony’s and his sister, Andrea’s. Pictures of me hung on their walls…I was in their family photo album. Like I was their son.

The only thing I had at home were holes in the wall where my old man missed my head, a sink full of dirty dishes, and an empty fridge. Unless you counted booze and drugs as food.

ONE

JAKE

14 YEARS LATER…

My pulse pumped through my body as I thrust into her.

Sensation.

Feeling.

I almost felt human. Alive.

Adrenaline and sweat drenched my body as I let go for only a moment. A brief glimpse of peace as I came.

A short-lived peace.

I opened my eyes to reality. Some no-name chick kneeled over the couch, her ass perched in the air, my dick buried in her. I pulled out and walked toward the bathroom. Time for you to go.

Oh, baby. Surely you don’t mean that? Her pouty voice did nothing but grate along my ragged nerves.

Yeah. I do. Get the fuck out.

I shut the door, locked it, and dropped the condom in the trash before I stepped into the shower. I turned it on and let the cold drown me. If only it could. Finally, the water warmed, but I didn’t care.

The emptiness was back.

It was always the same, but I couldn’t stop the pattern. Not that I’d know what to do if I did stop. It was amazing the lengths I went through to feel. Whether flying high in the sky on my dirt bike, doing 100 mph on my Harley, skydiving or fucking the never-ending line of nameless bitches who offered themselves up like prizes.

All of it gave me the same rush.

But it never lasted. Just a few moments of being alive before the numbness settled in around me like a black cloak. I looked at my watch…

11:17 p.m.

I braced my elbows on the shower wall, dropped my head and let the water wash over me. If only it could wash away the shit that clung to me and spiral down the drain as easily as the water.

Several minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom and did a quick search through my house to make sure she was gone. Most didn’t stick around. But every now and then, one would try to overstay their welcome. Did that make me a heartless bastard? Probably. But I made no promises and rarely ever knew their name. Certainly, never remembered them. Just a long string of one-night stands.

They were using me just as much as I was using them.

I went to my fridge and snagged a beer. I had to work tomorrow, but as always, I wasn’t tired. You’d think a good fucking would put me out…but it never did. I checked my watch.

11:28 p.m.

Tony gave me shit about wearing a watch. He said everyone had a phone, but you could lose it. I wanted…no, needed something attached to my body. You might say, I was obsessed with time. For good reason. I never knew when it would disappear.

I opened up my laptop and signed into a forum. Oddly enough, they were a good time suck. I very rarely engaged, just watched all the morons try to pick up chicks, talk shit and lie out their fucking asses. I sipped my beer and relaxed on the couch.

It was supposed to be a bike forum and now and then I would get some good info about bikes, but mostly it was just shit. All I knew, it was something that kept me from thinking too much. Kept my brain out of the shit I couldn’t forget but tried my best to ignore.

I scanned through the conversation when I stopped on a name I’d seen for the last few weeks. A chick, or at least she claimed to be, named Bec2U. For some reason, I’d been keeping track of this one. Not talking to her, just watching her. She knew absolutely zero about motorcycles because she never even tried to pretend she was into bikes. My best guess…she was looking for a guy who rode a bike. Chicks really got into the whole bad-ass bike scene.

I wouldn’t lie. It got me laid, but I didn’t ride because of it. I rode because there was nothing like the wind in my face and the road flying under me. The faster, the better. Being on edge kept me from jumping off the ledge of sanity.

When my inbox beeped, I looked at the message…from Bec2U.

TWO

REBECCA ANN SAYLOR

Isat at my computer, stared at the crude messages I kept getting and deleted each one. This whole project was turning into a disaster. If I got one more dick pic, I was going to scream. I was here to do research for my novel, not collect raunchy pictures.

I blew at the bangs that hung in my face. So far, I haven’t gotten any helpful information. When I’d ask a legitimate question, I got ignored. There were all different motorcycle forums, but I finally settled on a Harley one. Pretty much the same people came into the rooms at about the same time, but I still faced a constant stream of very explicit pictures I did not want to see.

Disgusted, I angrily shot a message to one offender.

Bec2U:

I do not want to see pics of your junk! Just stop already!!

MBFBJake13:

I didn’t send you anything.

Bec2U:

Yes, you did. I have…omg. I’m so sorry. Wrong person.

MBFBJake13:

Getting lots of interesting pictures?

Bec2U:

Yeah…you might say that. Sorry.

Well, wasn’t that just humiliating? I’d messaged the wrong guy. Just my luck. He looked like he was thirteen years old. Perfect.

Bec2U:

Aren’t you a little young to be in here?

MBFBJake13:

Young?

Bec2U:

13?

MBFBJake13:

Nope. I’m 30. That’s my old # when I used to race dirt bikes.

Bec2U:

Wow, I just keep getting better. Sorry.

Maybe this wasn’t my best idea to write something I knew absolutely nothing about. I didn’t even know anyone who rode a motorcycle. I laid my forehead on the table and groaned. I’d had been at this for two weeks and had just a handful of facts about the biker life. If I didn’t make some serious headway soon, I was going to trash the whole idea. But motorcycles had fascinated me since I was little. It was the story of my heart.

MBFBJake13:

Easy assumption to make.

Bec2U:

You know what they say about assumptions. It makes an ass out of me. Haha.

As soon as I hit send, I realized it was the wrong thing to say. Bluzty me. It just invited him to make crude comments. I covered my hands over my face and peeked through my fingers, waiting for it.

MBFBJake13:

Hey you said it, not me.

I waited. And waited. When he didn’t respond like I thought he would, I dropped my hands.

Bec2U:

I was expecting a rude comment.

MBFBJake13:

Nah. I’m sure you get bombed with enough.

Bec2U:

Huh. Yeah, I do. I’m sure you’ll laugh at me, but I know nothing about bikes or the biker lifestyle.

MBFBJake13:

I noticed.

Bec2U:

You noticed me? I haven’t seen your name around.

MBFBJake13:

Nah. I just float, rarely respond.

Bec2U:

I’m here to gather information about a book I’m writing.

MBFBJake13:

What kind of book?

Bec2U:

A biker romance novel.

MBFBJake13:

Haha, good luck with that.

Bec2U:

I’m serious. But anytime I mention my purpose for being in here, I get flooded with inspiration pics.

MBFBJake13:

You’re writing about sex with bikers. What did you think would happen?

Bec2U:

It’s a love story. It’s not just sex.

MBFBJake13:

I haven’t read any romance lately, but are you telling me there’s no sex in your book?

Bec2U:

U read romance? Omg. And yes, there’s sex in my book.

MBFBJake13:

……………um no. Sarcasm. I see why you’re getting dick pics. Are you blonde, too?

I stared at my screen and heat hit my face. The one guy who would talk to me thinks I’m a ditzy blonde…and my hair was blonde.

Bec2U:

Right. So, are you willing to answer my Q about biker life?

MBFBJake13:

I’m not patched in. Not in a club.

Bec2U:

You don’t have to be.

MBFBJake13: What the hell. Shoot.

Bec2U:

I’m curious, what does your name mean, the MBFB?

MBFBJake13:

I ride a matte black fat boy Harley.

Bec2U:

Nice. FYI, I don’t know anyone who rides motorcycles. All the info I know is from TV shows. So, please be patient with me. How long have you been riding? And how does it make you feel?

I was finally getting somewhere. If he answered some of my questions, it would be more than I’d gotten from anyone else.

JAKE

I raised an eyebrow at the screen, a beer halfway to my lips. How does it make me feel? I downed the rest of it, got up, and threw it in the trash, and sat back down with a fresh one. It shouldn’t be a prying question but for me? It was.

Bec2U:

Are you still there?

MBFBJake13:

15 years. From dirt bikes, street bikes to Harleys.

Bec2U:

Wow. That’s a long time. So why do you like it? How does it make you feel?

I’d hoped she would let that last question go. I stared at her name on the screen and thought of answering truthfully. I didn’t go for all that mushy-feely stuff. Honestly, I didn’t engage with people at all. But hell, she didn’t know me, and I didn’t know her. It’s not like we were going to meet.

Bec2U:

Jake?

Her saying my name made my brows furrow. It made me uneasy, but I didn’t know why. So, I let it roll off and answered truthfully.

MBFBJake13:

It makes me feel free. Alive.

Bec2U:

What do you mean alive? I’ve never been on a motorcycle. I think it would be scary.

MBFBJake13:

You need to find someone to give you a ride. Nothing like it. You can see the sky overhead, the road whizzing beneath your feet. The faster the better. I can’t explain it. You just have to experience it.

Bec2U:

I’ll think about it.

She didn’t know it, but I never opened up like that. If anybody asked me a question remotely personal, I stared at them. Was none of their fucking business. And I had the don’t-fuck-with-me-look perfected.

Bec2U:

Do you wear a helmet?

MBFBJake13:

Nope. Don’t want to live through a crash.

Bec2U:

What? That’s awful!

MBFBJake13:

Saw a buddy crash hard. Wasn’t his fault. The one time he wore a helmet, and he was in ICU for months. He lived, but his brain got scrambled and he needs 24/7 care. Not going out like that.

Bec2U:

I’m so sorry about your friend. Do most bikers wear helmets?

MBFBJake13:

Some states require it, some don’t. Mine doesn’t. I’d say 75% don’t wear them here.

Bec2U:

It’s getting late, and I have to go to work in the morning. Thanks for answering my questions. Are you available to answer more Q sometime?

MBFBJake13:

Yeah. You can DM me here.

Bec2U:

Great! I’ll talk to you soon. Night!

MBFBJake13:

Night.

During the following week, I talked to Bec every few days. Answering random questions about bikes. I didn’t really know why I talked to her. Time suck, maybe? Who the fuck knew?

A week later, on Friday night, I pulled into Snookers and parked my bike near Tony’s. I swung a leg over and put on my grip-lock and checked my watch.

10:15 p.m.

I heard a couple of female voices saying, Hi, Jake.

Hey, I replied without looking at them. I really didn’t care who they were. I stepped inside and walked to the bar. Several female voices offered the same greeting, and I had the same reply. The place was packed. They had live music, a dance floor that I never used, and pool tables I did use. After I got a couple of beers, I made my way to the far corner pool table where Tony and my friends were.

Tony was loud and outgoing, and that’s why we got into a fight after school eighteen years ago. Because of his loudmouth. He was one year older than me and he had won, but barely. Tony dragged us both home to get fixed up by Maria. I’d been a part of their family ever since.

I fist-bumped Tony and handed him a beer.

Thanks, man, Tony grinned and bumped my elbow. Did you scope out the new girls? They were by the front door.

No. You’re in charge of that. I just want to chill and drink.

Mack joined us, smiled and rubbed his hands together. Did you see the new chicks? I met Mack when we were going to automotive tech. They’re smoking.

I blew a breath out. Like I trust your judgment, GMC freak.

Krista leaned against Tony. Are you talking about the new girls?

All three of us answered at the same time…two yeses and one no.

She rolled her eyes. I knew what your answer would be, Jake.

I shrugged, sat on a barstool and drank my beer. Honestly, I didn’t give two flying shits about the new girls. Krista belonged to Aaron, one of Tony’s friends. She was cool, and unlike most girls, not annoying. Most of the female population was irritating as fuck.

Krista patted Mack’s and Tony’s shoulders. Seems like you’re too late. And moved to sit on a barstool beside me.

What? Ah, hell no, Tony said. He was taller than most anyone, so he spotted them easily. It’s those weasel dicks. We can take them easy. You in, Jake?

Nah. You go ahead, man. I’ll sit this one out.

He grinned and shook his head. Your loss. And he and Mack made a beeline for the new girls.

I pulled out my phone when it vibrated. It was a DM from Bec.

Bec2U:

Are you available for chat?

I assumed she’d be busy on a Friday night. Family or something. But she hadn’t told me her age or any information, not that it mattered. I thought about blowing her off, but what-the-hell.

MBFBJake13:

Sure.

Bec2U:

If you’re busy, it’s fine.

MBFBJake13:

If I was, then I’d tell you.

Why did people have to make it so complicated? Say what you meant and mean what you say. Simple. Although everyone told me I had social issues. The girls mostly. I looked up in time to see Tony and Mack escorting the three new girls to our table.

Hi, I’m Krista and this is Jake and we’re not a couple. She smiled sweetly at me as though she did me a favor.

I looked each girl up and down, not even trying to hide I was checking them out. And each one of them blushed.

Tony draped his arm over the tallest one. She’s Megan, and Emma and Bella.

They all said hi, and I gave them a chin lift. Hey.

Then my phone vibrated, and I turned my attention to it.

Bec2U:

Ok. I heard the term, cager. Does that mean all cars and trucks?

MBFBJake13:

Yeah. Means 4 wheels or more.

Bec2U:

Are bikers dangerous?

Mack turned his back to the girls and nudged me.

Which one do you want?

I glanced over at them. Pass.

Seriously? They’re hot. Mack raised his eyebrows.

The girls were young. I bet they were barely over twenty-one. Nah, I said and looked at my phone.

MBFBJake13:

Most aren’t. But as with all people, some are.

Bec2U:

Are you?

I smirked at the question. I wasn’t known for causing fights, but I never backed down from one. Ever. The last one I lost was to Tony…when I was twelve. I didn’t count Prick.

11:12 p.m.

MBFBJake13:

To some.

Bec2U:

Lol. What does that mean?

MBFBJake13:

Just what I said. And I don’t ever say things I don’t mean.

Bec2U:

Right. Everyone says stuff they don’t mean.

MBFBJake13:

I’m brutally honest. With the emphasis on brutal.

Hey, Tony said, and I looked up. Who are you talking to?

A girl.

Hello? There’s a hot girl here who needs attention.

I looked toward the girl watching me with a hopeful expression on her face. Was she Emma or Bella? Didn’t matter because I wasn’t touching that. I glanced at Tony and then back to her. Pass.

By her crestfallen face, she had heard me. Good. She appeared innocent, and I didn’t play