He scoffed out a chuckle and I had a feeling he noticed, but he was being a gentleman and not calling me out on it.
“I went to Washington,” he muffled with the cigarette still placed in the corner of his lips.
I hated smoking. I hated the smell and how the stench stuck to everything no matter how much you cleaned it. Most of all I hated the sudden taste of an ashtray assaulting your mouth when a smoker kissed you. There was nothing I liked about it.
Except, Austin…
He had a way of making it look so fucking sexy, making me wish I were the filter that was pressed against his lips.
“What?” I replied, realizing what he just said.
He chuckled, vibrating against my arm.
“Washington. I went there.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.
“You don’t talk much, do ya?”
“Seems that way, huh?” I laughed. “There’s not much to see in Washington,” I brushed it off.
“I know. I didn’t find you,” he simply stated, catching me off guard.
As if what he just shared didn’t mean anything, when it meant everything.
He finished rolling the joint, took one last drag of his cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray in front of him.
“You looked for me?” I asked, needing to know.
He lit the joint, sitting sideways to face me. Our faces now inches apart.
“What if I did?” he blew the words out with the smoke from his lungs.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“You only met me once. What would possess you to come looking for me?”
“I was backpacking, Briggs, and something led me to Washington when I left Miami. I didn’t realize it until I got off the train.” He smiled. “What can I say? When I want something, I go after it.”
Leaning in close to my lips, for a second I thought he was going to kiss me. For a moment, I thought I was going to get everything I had been dreaming about for the last year.
His lips.
His tongue.
His hands.
Him.
Instead he looked deep into my eyes and spoke with conviction,
“And… I want you.”
Chapter 15
<>Austin<>
Her phone rang before she could respond, breaking our connection.
I hated that she had to leave me to go deal more drugs.
I hated that she could be in situations that could quickly turn extremely dangerous.
And I fucking hated the son of a bitch who had her doing this. Not caring about her goddamn safety.
I saw a shadow of man around the corner when she left. I assumed it was her protection in case something went wrong. I knew Briggs could take care of herself, but at the end of the day she was still just a girl. A hot-as-fuck girl. Something told me that men appreciated much more than just the drugs she was supplying. For some reason the thought of her being with another man fucking pissed me off.
She left the hotel room so damn fast. I didn’t have a chance to get her number. I knew Mike had it, but I didn’t want to call her on that number.
I didn’t want Briggs, the drug dealer.
I wanted Briggs, the girl I met on the balcony.
The one who danced like nobody was watching, but seemed to captivate her audience with each sway of her curvy hips. The girl who was shy and timid, the girl who blushed from just a few words from my mouth. The girl who would one day rip my damn heart out.
The girl I knew was hiding behind the tattoos and purple hair.
I hadn’t seen her in three days, three fucking days and it felt like an eternity. Even the pills didn’t ease my anxiety. They only reminded me of her. It was Friday night and we had no plans. I sat on the bed racking my brain like I had done for the past three sleepless nights. Consumed with never-ending thoughts of her.
I lit my cigarette. The matches Briggs left behind were in my hands, I kept turning the box around.
They were taunting me.
There was a club logo on it with a website and phone number underneath.
“Mike, you know this club?”
He looked up from the TV to catch the matches I threw him, catching them in the air.
“Yeah. Everyone knows this club. Alejandro Martinez owns it.”
I raised my eyebrows at him with a questioning look on my face. “And I’m supposed to know who the fuck Alejandro Martinez is?”
“He’s notorious around New York. Fuck,” he chuckled, “he’s notorious around the world, Austin.”
I cocked an eyebrow.
He sat up. “You’ve seen The Godfather, right?”
I nodded.
“There’s your answer.”
I jerked my head back, stunned. “Those matches belong to Briggs.”
He shrugged. “It makes sense, bro. There is very little that Martinez doesn’t have his dirty hands on. He fucking owns this entire city. He’s a smart motherfucker too. The cops, the mayor... shit, you name it, he owns it. No one can touch him and nothing ever gets traced back to him. And, women, they spread their legs open for him like he’s the king of the fucking universe.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’m a New Yorker.”
I eyed the matches that were still in his grasp.