The Broken Pieces of Us(9)

By: M.N. Forgy

“Fucking asshole,” I mumble. I grab the frying pan and slam it on his face just for good measure. I climb out from under his limp body, pull out his wallet and take his cash. I’m going to have to put Scarlett in a hotel until I can find something else. I’m not bringing her here in the middle of this. I grab my purse and leave.

Shadow and Bobby just left, taking some girls with them for company. I grab a beer from the bar fridge and am heading toward my room when Babs walks through the front door.

“What are you doing here so late, babe?” I ask, surprised to see her at this hour. Her hair is a mess and her clothes are all disheveled.

“You okay?” I ask concerned, stepping toward her.

“You think I can sleep in one of those rooms tonight?” Her voice shakes and her hands worry the purse in her hands. My eyes widen with surprise. Why would she want to stay here?

“Why, what happened?” I ask, my brow raised with curiosity.

“I was going to stay at a hotel, but they only had one bed and my niece is staying there—” she begins to babble.

“I didn’t say no, babe. Just why?” I ask, cutting her off.

Getting closer, I notice bruising around her neckline. My eyes furrow with anger and my lips parts with disbelief.

“Locks do that to you?” I accuse. My fingers softly trail the bruised tissue around her silky neck.

She looks away, ashamed. Her tongue runs along her bottom lip as she avoids eye contact.

I run my hands over the scruff of my face, thinking. Her silence and avoidance answer my question. Having her stay here will cause some serious shit between me and my VP if he finds out, but I can’t send her back to him. Apparently, things are getting out of hand at their house, and I know with her defiant attitude and Locks’ dominant ego, someone will end up seriously hurt or killed.

“You can stay with me. I’ll sleep on the floor,” I suggest.

She nods and looks up at me with relief, tears running down her face, making her mascara run.

I grab some blankets and extra pillows from the linen closet and head toward my room. I make a pallet on the floor and kick off my old boots.

“You sure?” Bab’s stares at my attempt of a pallet, her eyes raised with a disapproving look. “I can sleep on the floor,” Babs offers.

“You ain’t sleeping on the floor, doll,” I answer. I look up from unbuckling my belt to find Babs’ eyes staring at my hands intently. I watch her body suck in a breath when I drop my jeans to the floor.

I shake off my cut and hang it on the back of the door carefully before taking my shirt off.

“I’m going to go get cleaned up,” Babs quickly announces.

I smirk and watch her scamper off toward the bathroom.

I lay on my shitty made pallet and cross my arms behind my head, waiting for Babs to turn the lights off.

She opens the door, her face cleared of smeared makeup, and her wrinkled clothes folded in her hands. My eyes skim down her porcelain skin, black bra, and black panties, making me the one sucking in a breath now. She is not skinny; she is thick, but not fat. She’s a woman, and proud of her figure. She’s a woman with curves, and damn if I don't like that.

“Don’t look,” she requests sternly. I smirk at the childish demand and turn my head toward the door.

“Don’t forget to turn the lights off,” I remind her.

“You’re closer,” she argues.

“You’re the last one up,” I counter.

She growls and steps over me, her legs spread across my face, giving me the perfect view of her silky black panties covering her as she leans over and flips the light off.

I exhale slowly and turn over, my boner making it hard to lay on my stomach. Babs is such a beautiful woman. Why Locks treats her the way he does is baffling.


I wake up the next morning with my bed made and Babs gone. I put on some clean clothes and head into the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee brewing inviting me.

“Should be ready any minute, babe,” Babs says, handing me a mug. I smile at her and take it. Her green eyes smiling back at me, causing fluttery shit to happen in my chest. What the fuck is wrong with me, feeling all giddy and shit? I run my hand through my hair and inwardly groan. I look at the coffee mug, then back at her. A bemused look on her face makes me smirk. Yeah, she’s going to be trouble, I can already tell.

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