Distraction: An underground kings novel (7 page)

“You’re a woman, Maggie.”

Yeah, wrong answer.

I use the leverage I gained moments ago and propel myself forward, shoving my shoulder into his waist while my hands wrap around the back of his thigh. His thud hitting the ground makes the glasses on the shelf near the bar rattle. Putting my foot against his groin, I dare him to say anything else.

“Oh, did you fall?” I ask sweetly as he blinks up at me in shock. “You need to be more careful, Sven. You never know what might happen to you,” I tell him, pressing my foot down as a reminder.

“Mags.”

“Do not
ever
doubt that I have the ability to take care of myself, Sven. I may be a woman, but I have been taking care of myself since I was a little girl,” I whisper the last part then take a step back.

“I was worried.” He gets up from the ground with his nostrils flaring and the pulse in his neck working so hard it can be seen from where I’m standing near the door.

“Well next time, instead of coming at me like a crazy person, maybe you could say that instead,” I suggest, going back to the couch and taking a seat.

“Sorry,” he mutters, but I pretend I don’t hear him as I pull the frames out of the bag, along with the pictures of us skydiving. “I was worried.”

“Yeah, you said that,” I mumble, not looking at him as he takes a seat on the couch next to me. Finishing placing the picture in the frame and closing it up, I tip it upright and look at the image. “Here.” I hand him the frame as I take the other one out of its box and open the back. Putting together the one I got for myself, I place it back in the box it came in then rest it on the coffee table, chancing a look at Sven. His eyes are on the picture of us in his hands.

“You,” he whispers under his breath so quietly I almost miss it.

“Me what?”

His head lifts when our eyes meet. This time they’re full of a sadness I don’t understand. “I like you, Mags, but I’m no good for you.”

His words hurt more than they should, so I do what I always do, and joke. “It sounds like you’re trying to break up with me.”

Shaking his head, his hand suddenly strikes out and wraps around the back of my neck as he pulls me to him. Pressing his lips to my forehead briefly, I feel their sting as his arms wrap around me in an embrace that has tears pooling in my eyes. He says he’s no good for me, but I think it’s the other way around. I’m no good for him.

Maggie

Are you crazy?

“Y
ou okay?”

Looking up from my cell phone, my eyes lock with Sven’s. I shrug in response, and his eyes go soft as he sets his phone down on top of his desk then walks around to where I’m sitting. He takes the seat next to me, placing his elbows on his knees, getting even closer.

“You still haven’t heard from her?” he guesses softly, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and shake my head as anxiety and worry washes over me. Morgan disappeared the day Sven and I went skydiving, and since then, I haven’t heard from her. Feeling my heart constrict in my chest, I fight back tears. I love my sister, but I hate the person she’s become. Her drug problem has gotten progressively worse over the last three years, and I don’t know what to do anymore. It kills me that I can’t fix this for her, because she doesn’t want help.

“I thought she would change,” I tell him weakly. I thought for sure she would change when the police called me in the middle of the night to tell me that she was in the hospital. I remember thinking,
This is it. This is her wake up call. She will finally understand she is putting her life at risk.

I was crushed walking into the ICU, seeing her hooked up to machines, covered in large black and blue bruises. When she told the police and me what happened at Sven’s club, I demanded they do something, but they refused. They told me that even though she was beat up badly, her story didn’t add up. They believed she probably tried to steal from a dealer and her injuries were a result of that. That’s when I decided to take matters into my own hands and go to Sven’s club to see if I could find anything out. Looking back now, I honestly don’t know if I believe her story from that night. I don’t know what to believe when it comes to her anymore.

I don’t even know who she is anymore.

“It’s going to be okay.” His arm wraps around my shoulders and he pulls me into his side. Turning my face, I press my nose to his neck, allowing myself a brief moment to escape the turmoil going on inside me and accept comfort from him before pulling away.

“Did you need anything else?” I question as I stand and adjust my skirt. His eyes scan my face for a long moment then his hands clench into fists as he stands to his full height, which towers over me even in my heels.

“Mags, if she—”

“She’ll be back,” I cut him off, speaking with more conviction than I feel, wanting so badly to believe my own lie. His hand wraps around the side of my neck and his thumb runs down the column of my throat as his eyes soften further.

Prior to Morgan moving in with me, it wasn’t abnormal for her to disappear for days at a time before turning up strung out, wearing the same clothes she disappeared in. Even though I know deep down this time it’s something different, there’s nothing I can do. When I went to the police, they were hesitant to even fill out a missing person report, because they know her history. They know she has a drug problem, and to them, she was just one more druggie in a long line of missing drug users.

“I’m here for you,” he says gently, moving his thumb in soothing strokes that cause me to lean into his touch instead of pull away like I should. I want to believe him, but I know people. I know you can only really depend on people until they get what they want, and then they turn their backs on you. My family is a shining example of that. My whole life, I have been the person my family turns to when they need something. I have always been the adult, always the responsible one, and always the one left holding the bag when they get what they want and walk away.

“Thanks,” I choke out, feeling that pressure in my chest press in on my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“It will be okay,” he says, leaning in, pressing his lips to my forehead, and letting them linger there until the feel of them is imprinted on my skin. Then, he pulls back enough to catch my eye. “Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight?” he asks softly, searching my face.

“I think I’m just going to go home and get to bed early,” I tell him, taking a step back before I can say something stupid, like ‘yes.’ I like Sven way too much, and the more time I spend with him, the
more
I like him.

“Sure.” He nods. “Get some rest.” Seeing the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes right before he turns his back on me makes me waiver in my decision to keep my distance, but then I remember what has happened every time I let someone in.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur as I step out of his office, taking the stairs down to the main floor. I walk through the empty club, waving at Eva, who’s on the phone behind the bar, as I pass her on the way to the door.

“You heading home already?” Teo asks when I step outside.

“Yep, Sven had me up early to run errands, so I’m off now.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.” He stands from the small metal stool he was sitting on and tosses a half smoked cigarette into the street.

“You don’t have to do that,” I assure him, motioning for him to sit back down.

“Sorry, I mean I
am
walking you to your car.” He grins, wrapping his giant hand around my bicep.

“Fine,” I sigh, knowing there is no point in arguing with him. Since I started working here, there has never been a time I have gone to my car alone. Even in the middle of the day, someone is with me.

“You know Sven doesn’t like you leaving the club alone,” he says, leading me around the side of the building to the parking lot. Ignoring his comment and the way it makes me feel, I try to keep up with his long stride in my heels as we walk past Sven’s giant SUV to my car that is about ten times smaller in size.

“Sven doesn’t like much of anything,” I say under my breath, hearing him chuckle.

“One day, this shit’s gonna go nuclear.”

“What?” I ask, tilting my head back to peer up at him as we stop at the back of my car.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head as a small smile forms on his lips.

“If you say so.” I frown as his eyes study me, running over my hair and face then down over my body before stopping on my shoes, moving back up to meet my eyes once more.

“Fucking nuclear.” He shakes his head, and his smile broadens, confusing me even more.

“Um…”

“Get home safe,” he rumbles, opening the door to my car.

Giving up on understanding him, I lean up on my heels to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

Nodding, he steps back, allowing me to slide behind the wheel. Starting my hybrid, I check the battery and make sure I have enough of a charge to make it home before backing up and waving at Teo as I pass him.

Getting home, I head up the stairs that lead to my apartment and unlock the door, silently praying that Morgan will be inside, but she’s not. The place is quiet and is exactly the same as I left it this morning before I went to run errands for Sven.

Heading to my room, I slip off my heels and toss them onto the pile of shoes in the bottom of my closet. My bedroom is my favorite room. After my first modeling job, I splurged and bought a bedroom suite that was made for a princess. The white, four-poster canopy bed with sheer curtains that hang down around the sides remind me of a bed from
Sleeping Beauty
. The white matching dressers, one tall, the other long, have etched glass mirrors on the front of each drawer, with shiny silver handles. The side tables match the dressers, and each has a blown glass lamp on top; the Tiffany blue color matches the duvet on my bed.

Walking to my long dresser, the one covered in frames of different sizes, I pick up a picture of Morgan and me. I must have been about six at the time, and Morgan was around four. We were sitting outside my parents’ house on the wooden steps that lead to their front door. My arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and we were naked, wearing nothing but rain boots and covered in mud. We were happy.
She
was happy. Picking up another picture of us from around four years ago, I run my finger over her face, wondering where her light went. There was a time her smile lit up the room; people would gravitate toward her without even knowing they were doing it. I don’t know what happened to take away her light.

“What happened to you?” I whisper, gaining no answer. I set down the picture and put my hands behind me to unzip my skirt then slip out of my blouse, tossing both items toward the bathroom, where the washer and dryer is located. Then, I slip off my bra and go to the laundry basket next to my bed that is full of clothes I need to put away. I find a pair of sweats and a shirt and put both on and then head down the short hallway, past the guest bath and Morgan’s room, which used to be my office. Stopping in the living room, I turn on the stereo, allowing Adele to fill the silence, and then toss the remote on the sectional across from the television.

Heading toward the kitchen, a letter sitting on top of the stack of mail I brought inside yesterday catches my eye when I see my mom’s swirly handwriting. Sliding my finger under the edge of the envelope, I pull out the folded up letter and read it quickly. My parents don’t have phones or internet, so my mom keeps in contact with letters, and this one is just like the rest: a short update about her and my dad and an invite to come visit when I can.

Sitting down in one of my dining chairs, I write a quick note telling her that Morgan has once again disappeared and that I probably won’t be able to visit for awhile, but will send a letter when I can. I know my mom will be concerned about Morgan, but she will say what she always says:
This is your life, so you have to make your own decisions.
Shoving the letter into an envelope, I place it in my purse so I can mail it tomorrow. I get up and go to the kitchen, pulling out a pot to boil water.

I was raised in a small community outside of Phoenix, where they didn’t believe in the government or in most modern amenities. When I was ten, my parents offered me the opportunity to join public school and I accepted. That was when I figured out how different we were from everyone, and how much my parents had prevented me from learning. My first year of public school was really difficult, and I ended up being held back a year so that I could catch up with everyone else. After that first year, I excelled, and by graduation, I was top of my class.

I don’t regret how I grew up, but I still resent my parents for not being parents. Most of my major life decisions were ones I made for myself, even before I should have been allowed to, and if there was ever a problem, I knew I would have to find a solution on my own without the help of the two people who should have been there to guide me.

Shaking the depressing thoughts about my parents out of my head, I toss some angel hair pasta in the boiling water and pull down a bowl from my cabinet then go to the fridge to grab the butter and a bottle of orange juice. Once the pasta is soft, I strain it and put it in the bowl along with some butter, salt, and pepper then pour myself a cup of orange juice, taking both to the living room.

*