Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Biker, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Funny, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
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Eric.

It couldn’t be. He was dead. Wasn’t he?

I heard a bang, which turned out to be someone tripped over a chair. When I looked back into the room, the man was gone. Either I was seeing things or my Eric picked a really shitty night to start haunting me.

“Come on out back,” the girl said. “We got a taste of everything out there.”

I followed her through the house and into the backyard which butted up to the cemetery. We hopped the small gate where a larger circle of people were gathered under a large tree, sitting on the big bulging roots which had upturned several headstones as they grew through to the surface.

“That’s Dom,” the girl said, pointing to a dark haired guy unrolling a ball of foil. She cast me a knowing smirk then glanced down to my arms. I folded them around my chest, instinctively protecting my scars from her knowing gaze. “He’ll hook you up with whatever you want.” She clucked her tongue. “My guess is that you like to chase the dragon.”

I didn’t say anything, there was no use in denying something I wore the evidence of.

A few minutes later, I was sitting next to Dom, Indian style, while he fired up the heroin, getting ready to reintroduce me to my old lover. I salivated for a taste of her. I already felt her in my blood. My knees bounced anxiously. The second he held the needle up to my arm, I pulled it back. “Second thoughts, pretty girl?” Dom asked, leaning close enough to me where I could smell his rancid breath.

I didn’t get a chance to answer. Not him. Not my own question about why I’d hesitated. Because the needle was yanked from Dom’s hand and plunged into his neck by a masculine arm covered in tattoos.

“Good shit, right?” Preppy asked Dom, pulling his gun from his waistband and pushing it to the back of Dom’s skull. Screams erupted, and the partiers scattered like cockroaches exposed to light. Dom’s face was contorted in both fear and pleasure, which proves that even with a gun to your head, heroin wins.

Heroin always won.

I untied the elastic from around my arm and let it fall to the ground. Preppy’s hair was mussed. His face was red and his eyes were angry and determined.

“Get the fuck out of my town. I see you here again and it will be a bullet in your neck instead of a needle next time,” Preppy warned. “You understand me motherfucker?” Preppy pulled Dom’s head back by his hair so he could see the seriousness in his threat. He then released him, and Dom nodded sluggishly until his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell over in a heap onto the grass.

“You don’t know what else he’s had. He could die!” I said, standing up.

Preppy shrugged, his face uncaring and hard. “Oops.” He scratched his head with the barrel of his gun. “You know, it’s not very nice to run off like that. You could have at least said bye first. Maybe a ‘Hey Prep, just gonna go shoot some dope into my fucking veins. BRB.’”

I couldn’t deal with the possibility of never having Mirna back and Preppy’s sarcastic bullshit at the same time. “Fuck you!” I spat, taking off into the cemetery, jumping over thick roots and tripping over small triangular shaped headstones, barley visible over the grass which was the same height. It was pitch-black and my eyes weren’t adjusting well. I fell into half a dozen statues and headstones, like a ping pong ball, before I stopped to catch my breath under a crumbling mausoleum.

My head was on my knees when I heard Preppy approach, his heavy footsteps a hard thud on the wet ground. “You know what the really fucked up part is?” I asked. “Well, I’ll tell you. The really fucked up part is that I thought I saw Eric in the house when I got here.” I lifted my head and glanced at Preppy, who had his arms crossed over his chest. His biceps flexing. “I mean, I know he’s dead so it’s impossible, right? But I’m fucked up, more than I ever thought. So much so that I imagined I saw him. But even after that, during that split second when I thought he could really be alive and there in that house, ready to shoot up, I’d made the decision that I was going to stay, anyway.” I ran my nails up and down my calves. “That’s how badly I wanted it.” I paused. “WANT it.” I corrected.

The desire was so great inside of me I groaned out loud. Preppy crouched down in front of me, his gun hanging from his hand between his legs, pointed at the ground. His finger stroking the trigger.


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