Sunday, August 24, 2014

CHAPTER SIXTEEN is Now Available To Read 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Come on, darling, lean back. I need to numb this area before I can remove
this. Lean back against Nicky for me.” Damon was talking to her softly and
gently. Nick, however, couldn’t speak at all.
They’d wanted to carry her down to the offices once Damon had seen the
wound, but she screamed as soon as he lifted her again. Her eyes were glazed
with pain and he couldn’t make her scream again. The sound ripped through his
heart. The glass had gone straight though her shoe, as he had first seen and it
was still bleeding. She had told him when he’d gotten his heart out of his throat
that she’d dropped a glass last night and had thought she’d gotten it all cleaned
up. Then when she’d been rushing around today, she’d stepped onto it and it
was in her foot before she knew it.
“I do not want to lean back against Nicky, nor are you going to numb my
foot. If you do that, then I won’t be able to walk, and I have to be to work in an
hour. Just rip the fucking thing out so I can glue it shut and we can all be on our
merry way.” She was crying again. Nick wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to
punch someone for it.
“There isn’t any work you can’t put off until Monday, if then. I don’t want
you in the offices, now shut up and let him numb you.” Nick reached out to pull
her against his chest to steady her, and she slapped his hands away.
“I’m not working for you tonight, you jackass. I have to go to Mick’s and
work. And I am going; I need the money. Surely one of you three men can pull
that out, can’t you? Please just do it.” Damon looked at him with a frown. He
didn’t know who Mick was either and started to say something.
“You work at Big Mick’s? Cool, are you a stripper? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, if
you are then...” Nick only took a step toward Byron. Just one, and he shut up.
“You are not a stripper! I won’t have it. And why do you need the money?
Am I not paying you enough? I would think that the way you live, rent free,
you’d have more than...”
“Yeah, you would think that, wouldn’t you?” she screamed at him. “I can’t cash
those checks. I have to work to eat. Here.” She reached behind her and grabbed
the clipped bundle of envelopes from the front of the refrigerator and tossed
them at him. They all had Grant Corporation stamped in the upper left hand
corner. And all but one of them was still sealed. “I have to have a credit history
to open a checking account, but I can’t get a credit history because I don’t have a
flipping account. Without the history, I can’t cash those stupid checks, and so on.
I asked that dick head in accounting to give me cash and she laughed at me.
Stupid bitch
“I don’t understand. You need a credit check to open a checking account.
That’s ridiculous. I gave you a credit card. Why didn’t you just use that? Or
better yet, one of those check cashing places I see ads for on the television? That
would have given you cash at least.”
Nick was still looking at the six pay checks. Why hadn’t she said...but she
had, he remembered, weeks ago. He’d told her to go to accounting to get it taken
care of. He hadn’t even bothered to see if she’d gotten it resolved.
“Oh yeah, that. It’s in Mr. Grant’s freezer. I was informed by your lovely
bitch of an account that I need to have approval every time I spend over fifteen
dollars and she was not going to let me spend your money willy nilly. Yes,
willy nilly spender, that’s me. And have you seen how much they charge to cash
a check at one of those places? It would take me years to ever catch up. I knew a
girl on my row in prison who was into them for thousands of …Take. The.
Fucking. Glass out now!”
Nick looked at Byron with a raised brow and he backed up. “I don’t have it.
I’ve...she’s never been to my place.”
“No, that freezer. Just open it up; it’s right there. Might as well take it. I can’t
use it either.”
Nick looked back at Damon and saw that he’d pulled a syringe out and had
filled it while she was talking. He nodded at him and he suddenly knew that he
was going to knock her out. If they didn’t, she’d be walking to the bar glass or no
glass.
“Morgan, honey. You need to relax all right? Let me hold you while Damon
removes the glass.” She slapped at his hands again, but they weren’t as hard as
before. He didn’t know whether it was because she was resigned to the fact that
he was going to touch her, or she was getting weaker from blood loss.
“Stay away from me, I mean it. I told you before that I—ouch! What the hell
was that?” When she tried to pull her thigh away from Damon, he held tighter.
Nick knew she was going to have a bruise, but she’d left them no choice. Damon
didn’t look up at her as he finished the injection.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t work with you moving around like that.
You’re going to go to sleep now and when you wake up, the glass will be gone
and I’ll have you all stitched up. You’re not going to be walking on that foot for
awhile, but we’ll take care of you.” Damon pulled out the syringe and began
rubbing the area while Nick held her hands away. He could feel when the drugs
started to kick in; she was fighting less and relaxing more.
“I hate you, both of you. And I quit. I won’t work...you tricked me...I want to
go back to prison. Please take me back...there has to be a way for me...I hate
you...” Nick pulled her close to his chest and just held her.
The next twenty minutes were tense while Damon worked to get the glass
out. It was right up against the bone and had to be worked loose before he could
remove it completely. Even as out as she was, she whimpered a few times. Nick
whispered nonsense in her ear and continued to hold her tight and tired not to
think about her telling him she hated him. He watched Damon put in every one
of the fifty-six stitches on the bottom of her foot, then the twenty-three on the
top; he felt every pull of the thread, every stick of the needle.
“Now what do we do with her? Because I got a feeling if we don’t do
something with her, she’ll be on her way to Mick’s as soon as she wakes up.”
Byron had a point.
“We take her with us. Mom wanted her there anyway. This way, we can
keep an eye on the swelling and she won’t be able to go to work. She’ll have a
happy Thanksgiving with us.”
Nick looked at his brother and thought he was insane. Not about taking her
with them, that was the only option they did have, but if he thought she was
going to be happy, or thankful, then he’d eat her ugly pink bag.
“There’s something else you two need to see,” Byron said as he returned to
the kitchen I, hummm...I went to her bedroom to get her something less...well
more and...come on.” He led them through the bedroom and into the bathroom.
Nick laid her down on the bed. She had to have clean clothes and she was
not wearing what she had on in public, although if she wanted to wear it to the
office for him sometime, he wouldn’t... Whoa! Stop right there, bucko!
Nick looked down at her clothes. The shirt was a black sleeveless half shirt
that had Mick’s written across her breasts in sparkly script. She had on a bra; he’d
seen it several times when she’d tried to slap him away. He was intrigued with
the little ladybugs that danced along the cups of it. Her belly was bare from the
bottom of the skimpy shirt to the top of her micro skirt. Her skirt was also black,
and very, very short. She had on thigh-high stockings that were a good inch
below the skirt itself and left the creamy inch of skin exposed. He found himself
wanting to lick the area and wanting to cover it up. Licking it was winning,
hands down. He reluctantly left her laying there and went into the bathroom. But
not before he pulled a sheet from the bottom of the bed and gently covered her
up.
“Ah, hell. She never left prison at all, did she?” he said as he entered the
room behind Damon.

Tune in next week for  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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“I’m Misha. Say it please. 
I want to hear you say my name.
” Her breathless reply had him grinning.
 “Not Mr. Lanning. Misha.
 Say it, Hannah. 
Say my name so I can kiss you properly.”
 Less
“I’m Misha. Say it please. 
I want to hear you say my name.
” Her breathless reply had him grinning.
 “Not Mr. Lanning. Misha. Say it, Hannah.
 Say my name so I can kiss you properly.”

“I don’t know how. Know how to kiss at all.”
 He brushed his mouth over hers, happy with her confession. 
“You should stop now.”

He ran his tongue over her lips and watched as she ran her own over her lips, as if she were tasting him there. 
With a small groan, he took her lower lip into his mouth and suckled it until she put her hand on his arm.
 Her breathless “Don’t” made him want more.


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Happy Reading 





Kathi S Barton 






 




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