Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
That doesn’t calm her down. In fact, she gives the cart a push, forcing me to move out of the way or get hit. I walk beside the cart as she marches down the aisle. “So, what are the condoms for? Are you going back to your strip club? Hmm? Going to pick up some girls there?”
Aw, fuck. I swear my face is breaking because I sense a smile coming on. Is she jealous? She’s fucking adorable when she’s jealous.
I stifle the smile and keep my face blank. “No. Not going back to the strip club, Flowers. They’re in case you do decide you want to continue having sex with me.”
She stops the cart and looks at me, considering. Her lips are in a pout, but her posture has softened. “I’ll think about it.”
I shrug. “Okay.”
A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she starts pushing the cart again at a determined speed. “What else are you getting?”
“Food.”
“I need kitty litter,” she mutters.
“Let’s get some.” We head to the pet aisle. She picks out the kitty litter. I throw in some Kitten Chow, and catnip treats and one of those poles with feathers attached to the end for the kitten to play with.
“I didn’t think you liked cats.” Hannah eyes me from under a swath of curls.
For some reason, it hurts that she noticed. That I can’t hide my lack of humanity. “I don’t,” I say gruffly.
It’s not true. I don’t like or dislike cats. I don’t give a shit about them. But I know it’s fucked up that I can look a kitten in the face right now and feel nothing. There’s definitely something wrong with me. All mammals are wired to think baby animals are cute. I learned that in middle school science class.
I stalk through the store. I picked up a few things at the grocery store before I moved into the apartment Marco rented for me, but I was in culture shock then. Just being in the grocery store had been an out of body experience—like most everything this past week. Now, I’m determined to find something I like or want. I drag Hannah through every aisle filling the cart with all kinds of food. Steak. Ice cream. Potato chips. Fresh fruit and vegetables. Oreo cookies.
“You’d better be paying for all this because I’m not,” Hannah mutters when the cart gets full.
“Yeah, I got it.”
After a few moments, she says, “I’m sorry—that was bitchy.”
Seriously. This girl. Who does that? Who apologizes for an offhanded dig?
“Nah, you earned it.”
“Well, I don’t like the way it feels.”
She doesn’t like the way it feels. Hannah Munn is so pure, it makes my head spin. She’s not innocent or naive. Not a mouse. She’s just… kind. Good. Honest.
And she feels bad now because bitchiness is not her natural state. Grace could pull a cunt all day long and would never apologize for it. Hannah didn’t even come close to offending me, and she can’t let it ride.
“It was uncalled for. You helped me with money at the bank and with the van.” Her voice breaks a little.
Aw, shit, is she crumpling? Over this?
“Come here, Flowers.” I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her. “It’s all right. It’s just money. You gotta get over your fear of it.”
“I’m not afraid of money,” she says, sounding even more upset. She pushes out of my embrace, and I let her go.
“You might not be afraid, but it’s your sore spot, for sure. You get more upset about money than you do about anything. Even what happened yesterday.”
“Well, it’s a big deal,” she snaps.
“It’s not. You’ve made it a big deal. It’s just money.”
“Have you ever not had enough?” she demands.
My memory flashes back to my teen years. My first job for Don G., providing security at Lollipops at age sixteen. Flexing my muscles and pretending to play hero to a bunch of naked girls. I got a taste for cash. Seeing the guys flash it around, going home with a wad of it in my pocket. Buying groceries and gas for my mom. Telling her to quit her second job. “I always wanted more,” I admit. “That’s how I got into the organization.”
Her eyes widen, and she goes quiet, chewing on that. “Are you ever sorry?”
I let out a snort. Am I? I’m not even allowed to think it. I can’t think it because if I do, there’s no reason to go on living.
Once you’re in, you don’t get out, except in a body bag.
“Officially, no.”
“Unofficially?” she asks softly.
“I have some regrets,” I admit. “But there’s no exit ticket. I’m in it for life now.” I shrug. “I gotta make it work.”
She blinks those curled lashes at me, seeing so much more than I want to show.
I gotta change the topic. “Come on, Flowers. Groceries are on me, so finish filling up this cart. I don’t know what you like.”