Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,40

second before he scoops the coke into his hands like its worthless and hightails it out of the kitchen. The three girls he’s hoping to get doped up enough they’ll forget he’s a bottom-dweller quickly chase him down.

I’ve only just cleared away the mess that will have K being more distrusting of her food than she already is when a second body joins me in the fragrant-smelling space. Regretfully, it isn’t who I’m hoping. It’s Logan instead of K. He’s looking smug like the drugs he encouraged me to binge on last night didn’t fuck with his head as well as they did mine.

I’m still as high as a fucking kite.

I shouldn’t be surprised. The Popovs only sell the good shit.

“How you feeling this morning, T-Man? You were pretty shit-faced last night.”

Logan musses my hair like he’s not in my shit-book for the stunt he pulled last night. I’m not talking about the blow. If I weren’t down with getting high, I wouldn’t have dabbled in my drug of choice. I’m talking about his overfriendliness with K. I warned him earlier she was off-limits, yet he still acted like a man who’s never had his dick sucked last night when she was placed on his radar. He was so up in K’s business, I could smell his aftershave on her face before I threw her over my shoulder. Why do you think I was so desperate to get her clean? I hate that she smelled like him. It fucked with my head more than the drugs I use to forget.

A note for future reference, just because you’re taller than someone doesn’t mean you’re tougher than them. They’ll put you on your ass as I do Logan five seconds after his fingers leave my hair. “What the fuck, man? I was just saying hello.”

After working his ribs over good enough he’ll feel me for a week, I pin him to the industrial-size fridge by his throat, then get up in his face like he did K’s last night. “You messed with my head, Logan. I don’t fucking like it. Do it again, and I’ll have Leroy pummel your ass… and I don’t mean with his fists. He’s been dying to stretch your puckered hole for years, and I’m about in the right frame of mind to let him.”

My taunt is delivered with the menace I was aiming for. Regretfully, it isn’t just Logan quivering in his boots. So is the woman who built the courage to walk through a compound full of murders just for the hope of eating a half-chewed orange for breakfast.

“K…”

She rockets out of the kitchen as fast as her quivering legs will take her, aware my threat was more honest than a scare tactic.

After imprinting the fridge with Logan’s body, I take off after K. I reach her just as she enters the corridor leading to the dormitory the other women are in. I hate that she woke up there this morning, but considering she snuck out of my room in the middle of the night, there wasn’t much I could do about it. She didn’t tell me she was too scared to remain sleeping in my room. I could see the fear in her eyes when I found her in the dormitory after my frantic search this morning. It maimed me as much as the whimpers she releases when she’s sleeping.

Confusion draws my brows together when K takes a right halfway down the corridor instead of left. My shock is pushed aside for worry when the sound of glass shattering booms out of the bathroom she entered two seconds later.

When she returns to the corridor, clutching a shard of glass so tightly blood drips from her hand, I hold mine out in front of my body. Her eyes are murderous, and she doesn’t just have me in her sights. She waves her shiv around as if it’s a knife, threatening anyone stupid enough not to feel the fight to live beaming out of her.

“K… put down the glass.”

The commotion of her shattering the mirror has gained her an audience. The once-captive women eye her without a peep escaping their lips. My brothers are much more vocal. They tell her to drop the glass, or they’ll shoot her. One even goes as far as saying he looks forward to fucking her corpse when he sends her to hell for her stupidity.

He’s the dumb fuck I take down first.

K was smart to snatch-up the apple corer last night.