Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)

Hunched over, I held my throbbing head in between my hands.

“It’s three o’clock in the fucking afternoon,” he roared, too close to my face.

I peered up, narrowing my eyes at him. It was so damn bright, I could barely make out his figure.

“How the fuck did you get inside my apartment? And what the fuck are you doing here, Martinez?”

I hadn’t seen Briggs’ uncle since before she left me. I couldn’t even tell you when that was, everything fucking blended together. Years, months, days.

Especially the goddamn days.

“Two and a half years.”

I cocked my head to the side.

“That’s how long I’ve been fucking waiting for you to get your shit together!” he yelled, making me wince.

“What?” I replied, confused.

“Jesus Christ. Take a cold fucking shower. We need to talk. I’ll be waiting in your sorry excuse of a fucking living room.”

Two and a half years? Is that really how long it’s been?

I wiped the sleep from my face, and grabbed the t-shirt I had worn the night before off the ground, pulling it over my head. I took some pain pills from my nightstand, swallowing them down whole with no water. Once they kicked in, it didn’t take me long to get ready.

“You should really consider moving into a nicer apartment complex. All it took to persuade your landlord to let me in was a hundred dollar bill,” Martinez informed as I grabbed a Red Bull from the fridge.

Drinking it down in three swigs, I crushed the can then threw it on the counter.

“I’m surprised he didn’t take a twenty, you got ripped off. I apologize if my accommodations aren’t what you’re used to. I could meet you at the fucking country club up the road. That's where your breed goes to hang around these parts. You can talk to my parents. I’m sure they would love you,” I sarcastically remarked.

“I’m not here for pleasant conversation, Austin.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

“To save your sorry excuse of a life.”

“A little late for that,” I scoffed out.

He eyed me up and down from where he stood against my wall, before pulling something out from the inside of his suit jacket. He threw an envelope on the counter in front of us. The contents slipped out just enough to see. It took me a second to realize that they were pictures. Some were from the club when I first saw Briggs again. After I found out she was a drug dealer. Others were from our trips around the world.

“Briggs is very special to me. I love her very fucking much.”

We locked eyes and I jerked back, stunned. He folded his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side with a snide smile.

“Don’t look so fucking surprised. She’s hard not to love. As you well know. I watched you and kept tabs on you because I didn’t fucking trust you. As far as I knew, you were some punk-ass motherfucker, taking advantage of my niece. I tolerated you because it made her happy. Then you proved yourself worthy of her love with the incident in Colombia. You would kill for her, and a man like me can respect that about a man like you. A man who knew nothing about what he was getting himself into. But you stayed just to protect her.”

“I love her,” I simply stated.

“You need to get your shit together. You’re a fucking junkie. Look around.” He gestured to the shithole I called home. “Is this how you want to live or is this where you plan to die? You would think losing the one thing that mattered to you the most would straighten your ass out, but all its done is the fucking opposite. You’re a goddamn fuck-up, Austin.”

“Oh, I’m the fuck-up? What about you, Martinez? Do you know how fucked up you made Briggs?” I paused, waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t.

He just stood there with a knowing expression.

“That’s what I thought. You’re nothing but a fucking * behind expensive suits.”

Before I knew what was happening, he was over to me in three strides, grabbing me by the shirt.

“You cocky son of a bitch, you have no idea who the fuck you’re talking to,” he gritted out, practically spitting in my face.

He slammed my back into the wall. I hit it with a hard thud.

“You’re lucky I’m even here. The only reason I am is because I fucking owe you. You brought life into Briggs again. Something I had never known how to do. Her mother would want me to at least try to help you, motherfucker. Now, get your shit together before it’s too late.”

With that he let me go, stepping away from me. I slid down the wall, crouching over and rubbing the back of my neck. I hated to admit it, but he was right. It was also easier said than done.

M. Robinson's books