Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,56

the back door. But you already knew that before you came storming in here to steal my shit.” I grimace. “I mean, before you came in here the first time. That’s not understanding me, Mic. That’s doing your homework.”

“I don’t mean to sell…to run your side business. That wasn’t what I was trying to say,” she corrects herself, dropping her arms. Her blush turns crimson on her cheeks. She’s embarrassed.

“I get a sick joy out of watching your face redden,” I tell her, without thinking first.

Mickey looks from one wall to the other than motions to them with her hands. “All of this tells me something more. It’s your unspoken story. The one I didn’t know.”

“This ought to be good. I’ll bite. Enlighten me, Mic. Who the fuck am I now? You know, besides a kid with a learning disorder and a single guy with an ugly kitchen.”

She walks down an aisle running her fingertips over various lamps and crystal bowls. She picks up a silver music box and opens it. A ballerina pops out, and the music box plays a simple lullaby.

“You lived your entire life without having much of anything.”

I roll my eyes. “Telling a drug dealer they grew up without shit is like telling a stripper they have daddy issues. Come on, Mic. Impress me with that big brain of yours,” I egg her on. Challenging her.

“All of these things here are pieces of lives other people have lived.” She waves her hand over to the jewelry case and then the back wall. “Wedding rings. Instruments. Weapons. Rocking chairs. Paintings and portraits of families.” She holds up the music box. “This probably played in a child’s room at some point. Maybe, a gift from her parents or grandparents? Maybe, a reminder of a song a loved one sang to her at night.” She glances from the box to me . “You had nothing growing up. No one.” She slams the lid shut. “And now you have everything. Not just stuff, but pieces of a life you never got a chance to live.”

Well, fuck me.

I point to her. “Let’s get one thing straight. You don’t fucking know me, and you never will.” I run my hand through my hair. “What the fuck is it about you that makes me want to fuck you and fight you but won’t fucking let me not be a fucking asshole to you.”

“I don’t know,” she replies, softly. She places the ballerina back on the shelf. “I’m not pretending I know you, Pike. I’m just pointing out what you’re silently telling the rest of the world, people who either aren’t smart enough to notice, or more likely, just haven’t taken the time to look.” Mickey raises up on her tip-toes. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I don’t know what’s angering me more. The smell of the cucumber girly shampoo wafting from her hair or the heat rising from her perfect little tits as her nipples graze my chest. My cock jumps to attention, and if the wall wasn’t littered with expensive instruments, I’d fucking punch a hole through it.

I lower my lips to her ear and whisper, “Fuck you.”

Mickey

“What the fuck are you looking at, lady?” A boy asks, jutting out his chin and chest as if he weren’t the skinniest and frailest-looking creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. A kitten who barks.

I open my mouth to reply, but I don’t have the chance because Pike walks in. “Jo Jo! What’s up, kid?”

Jo Jo drops the posturing and extends his hand out to Pike, and they do that one-shoulder half-hug that I’ve only seen men do.

I’m surprised that the man who tied me up in the dark with every intention of killing me gives the boy a half-hearted tap on his hat, lowering the brim over his eyes.

Jo Jo adjusts his hat and smiles at Pike like he’s having a chance encounter with a celebrity. The admiration dancing in his otherwise very sad eyes.

“What brings you in, kid?”

Jo Jo shrugs. “Betty has people over tonight and told me to make myself scarce.”

Pike doesn’t say anything about Betty’s bad parenting but instead points to the back door. “You can always hang here until the smoke settles. There’s sandwich shit in the fridge upstairs if you’re hungry. You know the code.”

Jo Jo pats his stomach. “I’m always hungry.” He starts to jog to the backdoor leading to the stairs when he pauses, once again noticing my presence. He pauses and hitches a thumb in my direction. “Pike,