Bouncer by Kim Jones Page 0,25
manning his post. I left on the first leg back to ensure the rest of the guys had a clear ride on their return, so I’m the first to arrive.
“Bouncer,” Boots says, giving me a nod.
I guess he’s learned with me, the less talking the better.
“Boots,” I answer in reply. I hand him my keys, and he tries to hand me a towel, but I wave him off. “Anything to report?”
“It’s been quiet. I did a perimeter check about thirty minutes ago.”
Good man. He’s learning.
“Okay. Anybody around?”
He shakes his head. “No one other than Apple.”
I cock my head.
“You saw Apple?”
My question makes him shift on his feet, picking up on my tone. “She was in the main hall when I went in about an hour ago.”
I push past him and head for the main room. I thought I made it clear she needed to stay in bed. But when I walk in, I know she’s done anything but.
The place is so fucking clean it gleams. In fact, any surface that catches light is polished to a shine.
I look around for her. I catch sight of a gloved hand gripping the edge of the bar.
Those fucking gloves.
When I peer behind the bar, Apple is squatted, wiping down the wood shelves like a mad woman.
Through the fog of my seething anger, I notice her matted hair and dirt-smeared face.
I clear my throat.
She looks up, yelping in surprise. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“What the fuck are you doing?”
She struggles to pull herself up to stand and looks around the room. “Uh, my job. What time is it?”
She’s pale as fuck, eyes sunken and telling of her exhaustion. There’s also a fire in them. And I don’t miss the way her jaw clenches when she looks at me.
“Your job can wait. I’m pretty sure I made that clear before I left.”
“Yeah? And I trusted you to keep your fucking mouth shut about me, but you didn’t.”
What the hell is she talking about?
I’ll find out. But when I do, it won’t be in front of an audience. And the guys are due back soon. I take her hand—glove and all because at this point, I couldn’t give a fuck about germs—and pull her around the corner of the bar.
“Wait, where are we going?” She struggles against my grip and I hold tighter.
I don’t answer. She’ll figure it out soon enough.
We make long strides down the hallway and I kick the cracked door of my room the rest of the way open with the toe of my boot.
“You remember how I told you I’m in control behind this door.” I make sure and slam it behind us.
Her eyes widen. She jerks from my hold. “Hey, wait a second. First off, I was doing my job.”
“How I told you I was going to set boundaries and hold you accountable when you crossed them?”
“You told them where I live!” she screams, her face red with anger. She takes her gloves off and throws them, the latex making a slapping sound as it hits my face.
My nostrils flare and I fix her with a look. “You better calm down, girl.”
“Don’t you tell me to calm down!” Her hand wraps around a half empty bottle of water.
I point at her in warning. “You throw that, and it’s your ass.”
“Fuck you!” She hurls the bottle at my head. I block it with my forearm.
Her eyes follow my hands as I undo my belt, ripping it through the loops of my jeans. She takes a step back. I shake my head. “Run and it’ll be worse for you.”
“You expect me to just stand here and let you beat me?”
“I expect you to bend your ass over that bed and take what’s coming to you.”
Her eyes dart from my face to the belt. I grip the buckle and wrap the leather once around my hand.
“W-why do you think I would willingly do that? Do I look like an idiot to you? I’m sick, remember?”
“You’re not too sick to work. Not too sick to scream at me or throw shit at me. So you’re not too sick to get your ass whipped. Now, I won’t ask again, sweetheart. Get your ass over that bed now and I’ll let you keep your pants on.”
Her mouth opens and closes but no words come out. She fists her hands at her sides and plants her feet.
I’m out of patience.
I close the distance between us. The back of her knees hit the bed and she falls