“First of all, that’s mighty fucking bold of you to assume—”
“I’m assuming fuck all,” Cross interjected. “What I am doing is giving you a heads up about my intentions, and nothing more.”
Catherine stepped into the doorway of her father’s office, making her presence known. She had only heard the final bit of the conversation as she rounded the top of the stairs, and figured it was probably wise of her to step in.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
Two pairs of eyes turned on her.
One green, familiar, and family—her father.
The other, dark, lovely and all hers—Cross.
“No,” Cross said, “there’s no problem, Catty.”
Dante looked like he was biting his inner cheek before repeating Cross’s sentiment.
“I didn’t know you were back from Chicago already,” Catherine said.
Cross shrugged, and turned his back to her father. “Flight landed while you were still in school. I had some paperwork to sign when I got in, and then I headed over here. Figured I would surprise you. Surprise.”
Catherine’s gaze darted to her father. “And nothing is wrong?”
Dante sighed heavily. “Cross and I disagree on some things, but that’s to be expected, I think. Considering.”
“Considering what?”
“That you are not his daughter,” Dante murmured.
“And what’s to disagree about?” she asked.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Cross replied, never taking his gaze off Catherine. “But I think we’ve settled it’s not for us to argue about, anyway.”
Catherine frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t argue at all.”
It seemed her father and Cross would never see eye to eye on anything at all, especially where she was concerned. Catherine knew that was a lot of her doing because of things she had done that put Cross in bad situations in her father’s view, and other things she didn’t do—like tell the truth when she needed to.
Truthfully, Catherine figured it wouldn’t matter because her father would never entirely believe any man was right for her. Wasn’t that how all fathers were with their daughters?
“And we’re done arguing, as he said,” Dante said, shaking his head. “So, it’s Friday, no school tomorrow. I think Cross said he owed you something special for missing your birthday, yes?”
Cross nodded.
Catherine eyed him curiously. “Special like what?”
“Broadway Theater happens to be running one of your favorites.”
Her heart stopped. “Romeo and Juliet?”
“You know it.”
“How did you even get tickets for that? The shows are sold out months ahead of time, Cross.”
“I know some people,” he said, smirking. “Go get dressed, something appropriate for the venue.”
It was only then that she really noticed he too was wearing a suit and tie.
“You were busy today, weren’t you?”
Cross laughed. “I am exhausted, but who the hell cares? Go, or we’re going to be late getting into the city.”
Catherine didn’t need to be told a second time.
“Best birthday gift ever,” Catherine said.
“Oh?”
“Ever.”
Cross slung his arm around Catherine, pulled her close, and kissed her temple. “You know I still hate the whole dying together thing, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“It’s still not romantic, babe.”
“Okay, maybe not, but—”
“But nothing, it’s not romantic.”
“Cross, shut up and let me talk. Remember what I did when you kept interrupting me the first time over this?”
“Yeah, you smacked me with a book and then I got into your panties. It was great.”
Catherine’s cheeks heated at his blatant crassness, and her sudden flood of innocent memories. “Okay, but mostly the book thing is what I meant.”
“Sure, but I liked the other bit better.”
“Me, too, but not the point. So shut up and listen.”
Cross smirked at her in the darkness. “You don’t have a book to smack me with this time.”
“I can find one.”
“Where?”
“Shh,” someone muttered from behind them.
“Fuck off into a hole somewhere,” Cross hurled over his shoulder.
Catherine covered her mouth to hide her giggles. She would not be at all surprised if Cross got both their asses kicked out of Broadway Theatre because he made a damn scene. “Quiet, Cross.”
“You started talking first.”
“Hush.” She gave him a side-eye. “You’re right.”
“I always am, but go on, and give me pleasure of explaining what I’m right about this time.”
Arrogant, arrogant, arrogant.
And she loved it far too much.
“It’s not romantic, but … it makes me feel nostalgic. About us, I mean, and when we were younger.”
Cross’s grin melted into a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
Then, his hand sneaked up the side of her bare thigh, and under her wine-red cocktail dress. Catherine squeaked under her breath, and batted his hand away.
“Nope,” she mumbled.
“I was working on recreating that memory, Catty.”
“You’re awful.”
Cross shrugged, and relaxed back into the seat. “Hey, give me some credit. I made it all the way here without stripping you naked after being gone nearly four weeks. I think I’m doing pretty good.”
“Define good.”
Catherine knew better.
Oh, she knew better.
She poked a barely sleeping bear with a very short stick.
“Good is you screaming my name, naked, and filled with my cock. That’s good, babe. And we’re working on that, Romeo’s dead now. Not me, though. I’m very much alive, and my dick’s hard. Let’s see if we make it to Manhattan, Catty.”
Jesus.
That’s exactly what they needed: Jesus.
She didn’t even think to ask why they were going to Manhattan.
They made it to Manhattan.
Withtheir clothes still on.
Catherine intertwined her fingers with Cross’s as he pushed the top floor button on the building’s elevator. “Who lives here?”
Cross smiled faintly, not bothering to give her an answer.
She poked his shoulder.
What was up with him?
“How was Chicago?” she asked instead.
“Good,” he replied, “but long. I’ll probably be heading out again sometime over the next couple of months, depending on … uh, some things.”
“You won’t miss my graduation in June, right?”
Cross pulled her in front of him, tipped her head back, and kissed her mouth three times in quick, soft succession. “No, I will not be missing that. I promise. No matter what.”
“Oh, I got this today, by the way.”
He cocked a brow as she let go of his hand, and pulled a folded up envelope from her clutch. She waved it so he could see the Columbia University logo on the front.
“You didn’t open it?”
“Nope.”
“Your parents didn’t want you to open it as soon as you got it?”
“I picked it up out of the stack of mail as I got home, and then I heard you and Daddy arguing upstairs. Ma brings the mail in and drops it. She never looks through it. She leaves it for Daddy.”
Cross scowled. “Yeah, still sorry about the arguing thing.”
“Mmhmm.”
“You should wait until you’re home to open it, Catherine.”
She shrugged. “I got in, anyway.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
Yes, she did.
“No, I did. My father and his brothers attended—two of them graduated Cum Laude. My aunt, Kim, she attended, too. And my uncle went back years later and attended. Marcellos donate a lot of money to that university. My grades are ace, so yeah, I got in.”
Cross smirked. “And who’s the arrogant one again?”
Catherine glanced down at the envelope. “But you never know, right?”
“Open it.”
“I thought you wanted me to wait?”
The elevator dinged, and the door opened to a short hall that seemed to lead to only one door. Catherine still was confused why they were there. “Seriously, who the hell lives here?”
She turned back to look at Cross.
He was holding out a single, silver key.
“I do,” he said quietly.
Catherine’s smile grew as she stepped backwards out of the elevator, never taking her gaze off Cross at the same time. “Really?”
He nodded once. “Yeah, I’ve been looking for something ever since shortly after I graduated. I got access to my trust fund, and figured, somewhere to live would be the only thing I would ever spend that money on, so that was my plan. Nothing stood out, so everything was shit. I moved into the apartment because it did the job, and I didn’t need to be living with my parents at nineteen.”
Catherine took the key he offered, and followed alongside him until they were standing at the door. “This was the paperwork you said you had to sign today when you got in?”
“The paperwork for the penthouse was ready before I left, actually.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Second surprise for your birthday, maybe. No one else has seen the inside of the place but me. I wanted you to see it before anyone else did.”
Catherine shoved the key in the lock. “But why?”
“Let’s just go in first, and then we’ll talk.”
“Okay.”
She pushed open the door, and sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of bright, white vaulted ceilings. Open concept, the penthouse was basically on display from the front door. She could see a short hallway toward the back, and three opened doors that likely led to bedrooms and a bathroom. The large kitchen, dining, and living room were all one huge open, empty space. One entire wall was just windows, overlooking another taller condo building across the way. And a good portion just beyond the windows outside had a large deck that could be walked out onto through a glass door on the far end of the wall.
Cherry hardwood floors shined under her feet. Black steel light fixtures hung between pot lights from up above. The kitchen was a stainless steel and black granite dream. A pool table rested near the wall of windows, half covered by a tan sheet.
Cross walked further into the place, and Catherine followed behind. She checked out the two bedrooms—both large with their own attached baths, and the larger of the two had a walk-in closet. She instantly fell in love with the claw foot, porcelain bathtub in the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. Even the main bathroom was big, white, and beautiful.
Once they were back out in the main area, Catherine headed over to check out the pool table.
“Why is this the only thing here?”
“I guess the pool table was a custom build,” Cross said, “and the guy couldn’t get the builder to come in and take it apart before closing, so they could get it out without damaging it. I offered to hold onto it until he could, but he said fuck it.”
Catherine ran her fingertips over the royal purple velvet top. “Huh.”
“I’ll teach you to hustle, babe.”
She smirked at him. “Or I could teach you.”
“So, do you like it?”
Was he joking?
“Oh, my God, I love it. And I wonder, how much was this place?”
Cross shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Five-point-three million.”
Catherine’s eyes stretched wide as she turned on him. “What?”
She wasn’t surprised at the cost. The going rate of a small, one bedroom penthouse in Manhattan could easily go over a million. And with the rise in condo buildings all over the place, that price was getting higher by the month. She was surprised, however, that he offered the figure so easily, as though it wasn’t a big thing at all to drop over five million dollars just like that.
“Calisto had control of my trust until I was eighteen, and he looked after it for me. His money manager built the trust on some sure-thing investments, and that gained a bit. A good portion of the cash just sat and gained interest for eighteen years, too.”
“I mean, yeah, I know how trusts work, Cross.”
Catherine’s father allowed her access to her portfolio for her trust, and sometimes she was allowed to look through investments where the trust was growing best. She wasn’t, however, allowed to remove money from the trust until she turned eighteen.
“I got a deal, too, seeing as how it was going to be in foreclosure, and the guy went through a private lawyer to try and sell it before the bank got ahold of it. Calisto brought it up to me when his lawyer mentioned it—I bought the guy’s mortgage out, basically. It’s worth double what I paid, easily.” Cross glanced at her. “Basically emptied my trust fund.”
“On a penthouse?”
“I wouldn’t have spent a dime of that money, otherwise. I mean, when I was younger, I took money out to buy shit I wanted, but I didn’t really stop to consider what I was doing back then. It came from a man I don’t care to know, so it would have just rotted in the bank. Let’s look at it like the man who donated the sperm can finally say he fucking did something for my life.”
Catherine tampered her reaction about the money. “For what it’s worth, Cross, he’s missing out on a great man.”
“He didn’t raise this man, Catherine, a far better man stepped in to help my mother with the job. So, he doesn’t even matter.”
He was absolutely right.
Catherine reached out and snagged Cross by his suit jacket. She pulled him close, stood on her tiptoes in her heels, and kissed him. Their oh, so familiar dance washed through her veins like the best kind of drug, making her high, happy, and content all at the same time. Every sweep of his lips, and stroke of his tongue drove her crazy, and she couldn’t pull him close enough to satisfy her racing heart.
Before she knew what happened, Cross had picked her up and set her on the edge of the pool table.
“Your turn,” he murmured against her lips.
“To do what?”
“Open your letter.”
She’d forgotten about that, even if she was still holding it. Shooting him a wink, she ripped open the side of the letter, and pulled it out, flipping open the three folds to read the first few words out loud. It was all she needed to read, really, and Cross didn’t let her get anymore out.
“Catherine Marcello, we are pleased to accept your—”
He kissed her again—harder than she had kissed him, taking away her breath and making her thighs widen to get his body tucked right where she needed him the most.
“Congratulations,” he told her.
Catherine grinned. “There was never any doubt.”
“Maybe not, but it’s still deserved, and you should be told that, too.”
“Cross?”
“Hmm?”
“Was this what you were arguing with my father about?” she asked. “This place, and me?”
Cross straightened a bit, and placed his hands to either side of her on the pool table’s edge. “Yeah, it was.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re graduating in less than two months. Manhattan is farther from your parents’ home than where I live now, and closer to the university I already knew you were going to get accepted into. My intentions are to ask you to be here with me when you graduate—you’re eighteen, you can go or do whatever you want, and it’s your choice. I let him know that, so he was aware, and it wouldn’t feel like I snuck something up on him. It wasn’t that I needed to let him know, but I’ve got enough respect for the man to see his lines in the sand. This would be one of those, and I didn’t want to jump over it without first giving him a heads up.”
“And he didn’t like it,” Catherine assumed.
Cross looked away. “That’s putting it mildly, but no, he didn’t like it.”
“What does he want?”
“Likely me out of the picture,” Cross said under his breath.
“Don’t say that.”
Cross gave her a half smile. “I’m being a shit, I know.”
“A little.”
“Dante would like for you to be where he can see you, so that he doesn’t have to worry all the time. It’s funny, that’s all.”
“Why is that funny?” she asked.
“Because that’s the same reason I want you with me, but he just doesn’t realize it. We’re out for the same goal, and the real problem is that we both think we can do it better.”
Catherine twisted her hands together, considering his words. “Have you thought about telling him that?”
“He’s like you; stubborn and difficult. I’m like me—”
“Arrogant and trouble.”
Cross let out a hard laugh. “Exactly. It’s like oil and water.”
“So why do we mix so well, then?”
“Because I love you.”
Catherine watched him under dark lashes. “Oh?”
“And I get to fuck you, so that helps.”
She punched him in the gut, not holding back for a second. It even made her knuckles hurt, and Cross half buckled at the unexpected hit. “Ass.”
He straightened with a glint in his eye, and his hands grabbed her spread open thighs hard enough to make her gasp. “You owe me for that one, babe.”
Anticipation curled in her stomach, beating like butterflies.
“At least we made it to Manhattan.”
Cross nodded. “That we did.”
Catherine fumbled with Cross’s belt as his hands slipped under her dress and teased her black lace panties down her thighs to her knees. The article dropped to the floor on its own while he pushed the skirt of the wine-red cocktail dress high around her waist. Catherine had only managed to pull his belt out and unsnap the buttons; he worked much faster than she did.
He pushed her back further onto the pool table, until her bare backside was resting against royal purple velvet, and the spikes on her heels rested on the carved wood edge. Without warning, his fingers dug into the backs of her thighs, and he leaned down to bury his face between her thighs.
She felt everything.
His tongue tunneled into her pussy, his nose nudged along the hood of her clit, and his teeth nipped along her folds. He was all there, sucking biting, his tongue driving relentlessly, and his breath pulsing against her, making her even hotter than she already was.
Catherine tried to stay upright, because shit, she really liked the sight of Cross between her thighs, eating like he was starved and she was the best meal. She couldn’t, though, instead falling to her back, arching high, and reaching for him at the same time. Her hips lifted into his mouth as his tongue slid higher, teasing an already oversensitive clit, his mouth opened wide, and he sucked on damn near all of her.
He got his scream, then.
Catherine came hard.
“Cross!”
She felt the loss of his mouth and heard a muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Catherine opened her eyes again. The unzipping of a zipper echoed, and a shuffle of fabric followed. He was already sliding a condom down his cock by the time her vision entirely cleared. Catherine bit the edge of her hand, trying to soothe overstretched nerves as she was yanked back to the edge of the pool table again.
“No, no,” Cross said, tugging her hand away. “I put what I want in your mouth, not the other way around.”
“Fuck you.”
“Gladly, Catty.” His words were spoken with a sneer, while the head of his cock ran up and down her slit. “It’s empty in here—do you know how loud you’re going to be? Say hello to the neighbors, babe. Don’t hold back, now.”
Cross’s hands found her waist, and he pulled her into him without mercy. She was suddenly spit open, her thighs ached from being pushed wide, and she was full. It was so damn good. Catherine’s shaky sigh came out filled with relief.
“Too long,” Cross said, hearing her unspoken words. He was slow as hell on the withdrawal, but wasted no damn time slamming back into her again. Catherine whined her agreement, and her fingers locked tight around his wrists for some kind of support. “There we are—just come now, babe. I fuck, you give it to me.”
That sounded perfect to her.
Brutal would probably be the best way to describe how hard and deep his next thrusts came, but Catherine didn’t mind at all. She begged for it, really. Needed it.
She remembered when they were younger, and how soft and easy sex had been with him. She remembered learning how to fuck, how to come, and how to trust. She had learned all of those things with him, and that’s why she never felt unsafe, even when he did something that was new, like grabbing her throat hard enough to take just a bit of air away.
Catherine’s eyes flew wide, and darted to Cross. She found a silent question resting there, but she was fine. His hand slid just an inch higher, so his thumb could slide along her lips, while his other hand fisted into her dress.
“Get the fuck up here,” was all he grunted out before yanking her up back up from the pool table to be upright again. His mouth found hers, his pace never slowed, and she let go. It was too much—too much sensation between him her, his hands roughing her, and his mouth loving her. It was just too much. Catherine couldn’t have stopped the orgasm if she tried.
“My girl, my girl, my girl,” she heard breathed in her ear as she shook through the bliss.
She could feel the tensing in his back, and she knew he was close. His final few thrusts came hard enough to hurt, but it only really added to the aftershocks washing through her bloodstream.
“I gotta bring you with me or something, Christ,” Cross muttered into her neck.
Catherine laughed, and fell back to the pool table. “What, to Chicago?”
“Wherever the hell I go.” He leaned down to kiss her, and stayed there, still semi-hard and pulsing inside her pussy. “Anywhere, Catty.”
She agreed.
Then, she looked to the side.
“Oh, my God.” Catherine rested the palm of her hand on her forehead, surveying the uncovered wall of windows, and the high-rise condo just across the street that had a perfect fucking view. “I forgot about that.”
“I didn’t. Give ‘em a show, babe.”
She smacked him on his shoulder. “Cross!”
“Keep acting like that; you know we’re going to do it again.”
Probably.
A lot.
“I want to be here with you. After graduation, I mean,” Catherine said quietly.
Cross kissed her inner wrist, where he had once drawn that small black cross, and then down her arm. “Yeah, I figured, but it’s got to be by your choice, Catherine. It’s always your choice.”
“It is.”
“Make sure your father knows it, too. He’s already got enough to hate me for.”
One breath … two.
One step … two.
Catherine tried to shake off the nerves that were suddenly waging a war through her insides. She had been waiting for this day forever. Graduation should not be such a big thing that caused her any kind of anxiety, yet it did.
She knew why, too.
Her gaze darted along the crowd of people, all standing and watching the line of graduating students get smaller with each name called. She found her own collection of people in the crowd, and it certainly wasn’t a small bunch by any means. Her parents, brother and his wife, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. They took up three rows all by themselves.
She really only looked for one person, though.
Dark eyes, black hair … all hers.
Cross.
He had just made it home the night before, from a trip to Chicago … his third trip altogether. She knew he was tired, exhausted even, when hands couldn’t even keep hold of her wrists for too long without releasing.
You drive, he’d told her.
He had fallen asleep before they even got on the highway. But he made it back in time, just like he promised.
Cross stood on one side of her father, while her mother stood on the other side of Dante. Catrina was a hell of a lot closer to Dante than Cross, though.
Everybody needed just a bit more breathing room today.
Catherine included.
This was her anxiety.
This was the reason for her shaky hands.
This day had been counting down in her house for nearly two months, but no one really talked about it. It was all unspoken words and knowing glances passed between people who didn’t want to say something that might hurt a little too much.
Catherine was only three graduates from the end of the line.
She was two graduates behind getting her diploma.
She was hours from moving out of her house.
Catherine missed the two names ahead of hers, but managed to hear the call for her just fine … somehow. Everything moved a little bit faster after that. The final graduates, hats in the air, cheers all around.
Congratulations, Graduates.
Catherine was bombarded by family the second she stepped off the stage, and she really didn’t mind. It kept her from having to look at her father for too long because she didn’t want to see if she was causing him sadness again.
She ended up eye to eye with him somehow anyway.
Cross’s hand drifted over her back, as he chatted to Andino just behind her. His pinky finger hooked hers while she looked up at her dad.
Dante smiled. “I’m so proud of you, reginella.”
“Yeah?”
“Never stopped, not once.”
Catrina tucked a stray wave of hair behind Catherine’s ear before her mother darted off to talk to her Aunt Jordyn. Catherine barely felt a thing.
“Vita mia—my life,” Dante said, still holding that same, soft smile. “You were my impossibility, Catherine, my never-meant-to-be. I need you to keep proving me wrong. Keep doing what everyone thinks you cannot. You were born to do that, vita mia.”
“No, we would, but we’re just heading over to a party, Daddy,” Catherine lied.
Dante sighed. “Dinner tomorrow, then? And you better not miss that birthday party next week.”
The one for her cousin, Cella—the only August birthday in their family.
“I won’t miss it. Tomorrow, we’ll be there for dinner. Okay?”
Satisfied with her lies and promise, her father hung up.
Cross slid into the Rover not two seconds later, a package in his lands. He handed the bubble mailer over without a word, and Catherine ripped it open. Tipping the contents into her lap, she looked over the drugs, and then quickly stuffed them back in.
“Prescription pills are getting more popular, I see,” Cross noted.
Catherine shrugged. “Opiates, especially. But yeah, anything will sell. I just have to make it clear what I’ve got on hand before they start asking for other shit.”
Cross gave her a side-eye as he pulled out onto the road. “This should be … fun.”
“I’m sorry you’re going to miss that fight in Brooklyn.”
“I don’t give a shit about the fight, Catty,” he murmured.
Yeah, she knew that, too He was more worried about her dealing at the street races, especially since the last four had been raided by police. Andino ended up getting a call about something last minute—which was also happening a lot more often lately—which left Catherine to go on her own.
Cross would not have that shit. Not at all.
She could deal on her own, and she would, depending on the circumstances. Parties, people she knew, or very public events that she got into due to her last name and social status, sure. She did those alone just fine, with a very sharp knife hidden at her inner thigh just in case someone tried some stupid shit.
Cross wasn’t going to let her head out to the races alone, though, not given the circumstances. Catherine didn’t bother to bring her knife, if he was going to be there. He wouldn’t be far away, and always close enough to have both damn eyes on her just in case.
“Check that message on the times again,” Cross said.
Catherine pulled out her phone. She rattled off the event’s location, and the time the cars would kick off. “We’re making good time.”
“Shit, I should have brought some money for a bookie.”
She laughed.
“I could loan you a bit,” Catherine teased, leering, “but it’s going to cost you.”
Cross reached over and tangled his fist into her hair, before pulling her across the seats for a kiss. “No way, Catty. You’re a fucking shark.”
Another reason Catherine knew Cross hated watching her work?
Men.
The thrall of her dealing happened to be the fact that she was pretty, and men liked to look at her. Cross did not like men coming within breathing distance of Catherine if their intentions were anything less than innocent.
It didn’t help that she had to feed into the client’s ideas and flirting because that’s exactly what brought them back or made them stupid enough to buy more. But it was all a game for her, in the end.
As soon as Catherine had that money in her hands, and the exchange was done, so was her act. The guy was dropped from her radar faster than he could blink, and she was already moving away. She was almost done, though, as the start time for the race was coming up, and her supply was gone but for the two Oxys she was working on getting rid of.
It was a game she did enjoy, however. There was nothing like the rush she got while dealing because everything was on her terms, by her rules, and how she wanted it done. She had the control because she had the substance, she provided, and she would take it away.
The only thing to ever beat the intensity of that rush?
Cross.
Catherine handed a baggie with two Oxys over to another faceless man, and her gaze swept over the vehicles and people parked and milling about. She found Cross two cars over, half in conversation with a guy, but his attention was still on her.
She tipped her head to the side, a signal that she was done, and he nodded. Still, he stayed where he was, finishing his conversation.
Catherine, restless as hell, spied a familiar pink Porsche fifteen cars down. The car was unmistakable. It belonged to an ex’s of her cousin, Andino. She wasn’t sure why the two had broken up, but Catherine liked the girl enough, so she decided to stretch her legs and say hello while she was at it.
Cross would have likely seen her go, and could probably keep an eye on her the whole time. She didn’t bother to look over her shoulder as she headed through the parked cars and people, weaving in and out, and coming up on a sidewalk just a few more steps away from the Porsche.
“Catty, there you are …”
Catherine barely got the chance to turn around in her sky-high heels before the man who said her name was yanking her into a nearby alleyway. She didn’t recognize his face, or his blue eyes as she stared up at him, but that wasn’t unusual because she saw all her clients as faceless men anyway.
“Whoa, back off,” Catherine said, tugging her arm from the man’s grip. “I’m all out, anyway.”
She needed to get the hell out of that alleyway.
“Get the fuck back here, tease.”
He yanked her back as she turned to go.
Catherine’s back hit the brick wall hard, and suddenly she was frozen all over because …
Hands too tight in her hair.
A pillow making it hard to breathe.
Blankets that weren’t hers.
A body that didn’t respond.
A boy who wouldn’t stop.
She couldn’t take in air.
She couldn’t think.
She couldn’t move.
The guy’s fingers dug into her jaw as he forced her to look up at him, a sneer forming on his lips. “You fuckin’ ripped me off last time we met up, girl.”
What?
Catherine didn’t have the patience to be ripping anybody off with drugs. As long as she got money, they got what they wanted.
“That coke was cut with some kind of useless shit,” he spat.
That wasn’t her, though.
She didn’t cut the coke.
Catherine couldn’t say anything because the guy was squeezing her jaw hard enough to loosen her teeth, and she was terrified.
“Shit, Gerry, you found her?” called another voice.
Catherine’s heart stopped.
“About to get my fuckin’ due, too.”
With those words, Catherine felt a hand snaking up under her dress, and she finally came back to life all at once. She pushed off the wall because this time her body could fight back, and drove her fists into the guy’s body. One into his face, the other, his groin.
He doubled over, and Catherine bolted to the side.
His friend was there waiting for her.
Laughter mocked her.
All over again, she was shoved into the wall while hands and hot breath and taunting words invaded. Nothing she did could stop it. No matter how hard she fought, nothing. Her mouth was covered with her first shout.
She was spun around, her dress was ripped, and then she caught sight of the darkest salvation coming her way.
Cross came out of nowhere.
Like thin air parted and there he was.
She didn’t even have the time to be grateful for his quick action, before he was ripping the two men away from her, and fists started raining down.
Catherine just wanted to get the hell away. She wanted to fix her dress, to stop crying, to breathe and speak, for her throat to not taste like vomit, for her muscles not to hurt … she didn’t want to remember.
Sickening cracks of fists hitting flesh and bone made her cover her ears, but she saw the flash of silver … it came out of nowhere, too.
The grunt that came out of Cross when the knife slammed into his lower abdomen, made Catherine sick to her stomach. The silver blade came out red.
“Fuck, Gerry … go,” the first guy barked.
They were out of the alleyway without a look back.
Cross was already down to the pavement, on his knees. Ropes of red slipped through his fingers as he pressed his hand to the bleeding wound.
Pressure, pressure, pressure, Catherine thought. He needed more pressure on it.
She couldn’t even speak.
“It’s okay, babe,” she heard him say. “It’s okay.”
It was not okay.
It was not.