Breaking Bad: 14 Tales of Lawless Love Page 7

  It wasn’t until she arrived on the third-floor landing that she slowed down to catch her breath. Her usual workout was no match for running up the stairs in high heels and a combination of unease and adrenaline pumping through her body.

  One more flight.

  Journey moved the handles of her bags to her other hand, but when she placed her foot on the first step, it slipped. Crap. She stumbled. A piercing pain shot through her hand when she tried stopping her fall, and she cried out when the side of her head connected with the metal railing.

  Shit.

  Staggering, she dropped down on one of the steps waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass.

  “Okay girl, get it together,” she mumbled to herself as the throb in her head grew. The loud music, and the combination of smells, only irritated her more while she attempted to regroup.

  “I hate when drunk people block the damn steps,” a young woman with thick braids down to her butt murmured as she stomped past Journey.

  Journey ignored her as she continued holding the side of her head, ensuring the dizziness had past. It wasn’t until she lowered her hand did she notice blood on her fingers.

  So much for spontaneity. The idea to stop by unannounced was getting worse by the minute.

  EIGHT

  Laz jerked awake and snatched his gun from the bedside table. With a finger on the trigger and his outstretched arm moving left then right, his pulse pounded in his ears. He glanced around his darkened space trying to determine what had awakened him. That’s when he heard a knock coming from the living room.

  He set his gun down and dropped his head back onto the pillow. Sleep fogged his mind. Seconds ticked by before he lifted his arm and glanced at his watch.

  Eight-thirty.

  He’d only been asleep a couple of hours. After working a double, he had dragged his exhausted body home and had fallen face first into bed. He didn’t remember anything after that.

  Laz’s eyes drifted closed. All he needed was a couple of more hours of sleep and he’d be…

  Another knock, this time louder, had him sitting up and placing his feet on the floor.

  “This shit better be important.” He slid into the pair of jeans he’d had at the foot of the bed and didn’t bother with a shirt or shoes. With remnants of sleep still clogging his brain, he stuck the pistol into the back of his waistband and stumbled out of the bedroom. Living in one of the toughest neighborhoods, people didn’t just stop by.

  Laz staggered through the short, dark hallway and bumped into the leg of a table when he made it to the living room. “Dammit,” he growled, pain shooting through is big toe. Getting madder by the minute at the insistent knocking, he flipped on the living room light.

  “What the hell is…” His words lodged in his throat after he swung open the door.

  Journey.

  Shock immediately turned to concern when a trickle of blood dripped down the side of her face and onto her white shirt.

  His heart slammed against his ribcage and anxiety gripped his body. All types of scenarios raced through his mind at once. There was no one behind her, but he couldn’t see to her left or her right. All Laz saw was uncertainty in her eyes as she stared at his chest.

  On instinct, he eased the gun from the back of his waistband and brought it to his side as he extended his other hand to her. Journey grabbed hold immediately and he tugged her to him, not missing the way she shivered against his body. What the hell was going on? He lifted his gun at the ready and glanced into the hall, looking left, then right.

  Nothing.

  Heart practically beating out of his chest, he stepped back and closed the apartment door with his foot.

  “Journey, what’s going on?” He did a quick scan down her body. Besides a little shaken, she looked okay except for the cut on the side of her head. But the thought of someone hurting her had his blood boiling.

  Eyes wide with her attention on his gun, she still hadn’t spoken.

  “What happened?” he asked with more calm than he felt, not wanting to freak her out even more. He set his gun down on the coffee table and took the bags from her hand, placing them on the sofa. With his heart still racing faster than normal, he pulled her into his arms, growing more concerned by her silence.

  “If Hall did this, he’s a dead man.” Laz held her tight, hyper aware of her soft hands on his back. He had received confirmation that Hall had been taken care of. But if that asshole had somehow retaliated by going after Journey, there would be nowhere he could hide that Laz wouldn’t find him.

  Feeling a sticky liquid on his bare chest, Laz pulled back and looked at the cut. Though small, it seemed to be bleeding more.

  “Babe, ya gotta talk to me. I need to know what happened.” He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her to the bathroom. He quickly removed the first-aid kit from the cabinet beneath the sink and set it on the counter. The room was barely big enough for one person. Being in there with Journey made it a little too cozy for comfort.

  “I fell.”

  Laz’s hand stalled on the first-aid cream, and he narrowed his eyes.

  “You fell?” he repeated, disbelief dripping from his words. If he had a dollar for every time a domestic violence victim told him that, he’d be rich. Journey wasn’t seeing anyone, so he didn’t know what to think.

  He took a closer look at the cut on the side of her head trying to figure out what type of weapon might’ve been used. Touching it, he cursed himself for making her flinch. It didn’t look deep, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he cleaned around it.

  “Why don’t you tell me what really happened.”

  “I was coming up the stairs and somehow I missed a step. Then I hit my head on the railing.” She went to touch her head, but stopped and stared at the blood on her hand.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,”

  After she washed her hands, Laz needed her up higher in order to get a better look at her cut and had her to sit on the counter. All the while he cleaned her wound and patched her up, questions ran rampant through his mind.

  “Ow, Laz,” Journey whimpered, wincing when he put a Band-Aid on her cut.

  “Sorry.”

  Once he was finished, he placed his hands on the counter on either side of her. Bending down slightly, he brought them face to face.

  God, she looks so small and vulnerable. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go.

  Unable to help himself, he brushed his lips across hers.

  “So you fell on the stairs,” he said, still having a hard time believing that’s what really happened. But he had to admit that he was glad she came to him.

  Journey cut her eyes at him. “Why do I have a feeling you don’t believe me?”

  Laz said nothing. He didn’t want to argue. He hoped that’s all that happened and that she wasn’t attacked and keeping it from him.

  “So what was with the panicked look when I opened the door? Are you sure yo—”

  “Laz, I’m telling you the truth. It’s hard to admit because I feel like a big doofus, but I really did fall on the stairs. Nothing else. I promise.”

  He stood and folded his arms across his chest as she continued.

  “If I looked panicked, it was probably because of the way you came to the door. You had a gun. Your hair was sticking up all over the place and…and…” her hands flew around as she spoke, “…you’re practically naked…looking all sexy and shit. Hell, you caught me off guard!”

  After a few seconds, he fell out laughing and then laughed harder at the serious expression on her face. “Have you been drinking?”

  Her brows dipped into a frown. “I might’ve had a couple of drinks after work, but I’m not drunk!” she snapped.

  He grinned, loving her fire. It was that spitfire side of her that made him enjoy their verbal sparrings when discussing a case.

  His gaze went from her fiery eyes to her luscious mouth. Against his better judgment, he lowered his head and nipped and teased her top lip. Then he
r bottom one before sliding his tongue into her sweet mouth.

  Memories of their tongue aerobics from the week before had burned a permanent spot in his mind. Over and over he’d told himself never again. Never would he lose control with her the way he had that day in her office, but right now…he couldn’t help himself. He needed the feel of her mouth against his. In the last twenty minutes, his heart rate had jockeyed up and down thanks to her, and this…this calmed his nerves.

  When Laz finally released her mouth, he thought about something she’d said. “So you think I’m sexy, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know good and damn well you’re sexy.”

  He laughed again. “When did you start cursing so much?”

  “I’ve been hanging out with my sister. She curses almost as much as you do. I guess in that short amount of time together she’s rubbed off on me.”

  Laz remembered Geneva. Now that was a woman who scared the hell out of him. She was movie-star beautiful with a slamming body to match, but her boldness and the way she spoke her mind, would make any man run for cover.

  Laz stood to his full height and twisted a bit to work the kinks out of his shoulders and back. “Why don’t you take that top shirt off so we can get the blood stains out before they dry.”

  He helped Journey off the counter and she looked down at the spots on her white shirt. “Is this you trying to get me naked?”

  Now Laz was the one caught off guard. With her question and the way she was looking at him through lowered lashes, he wasn’t sure if she was serious or just messing with him.

  He didn’t bother responding. Yes, he wanted her naked, but wanting and acting on it were two very different things.

  Journey removed the blood-stained top, leaving her wearing a lace, spaghetti strap camisole. There were a few areas where the blood had soaked through, but not as much as the other shirt.

  Aw, hell. No bra.

  His dick twitched. The sight of her nipples standing at attention against the lace called out to him, begging him to suck on them. With the thinness of the material, he could easily make out the dark areolas of her glorious breasts. And the view had the blood in his brain shooting south, making him as hard as granite.

  Journey looked at him innocently. “I guess I’ll have to take this one off too.”

  “Journey, don’t fuck with me,” he said under his breath and went across the hall to his bedroom, his dick painfully hard. He hadn’t had sex in months and the slightest temptation was bound to push him to do something he had no intention of doing.

  Rambling through his dresser drawer, he had to find the biggest, thickest T-shirt he owned. There was no way in hell he could be around her half-dressed body and not take her to bed.

  Journey burst out laughing at how fast Laz ran from the bathroom. So far the evening hadn’t gone the way it had played out in her head earlier. She’d had every intention of them talking over hamburgers about Gabe, and then she’d planned to seduce Laz.

  Now the burgers were probably cold and Laz was acting skittish. She had no idea how she was going to get him to treat her like any other woman, and not think about their professional relationship.

  “What are you afraid of, Laz?” Journey asked from the bedroom doorway.

  He stopped rummaging through his collection of T-shirts and glanced over his shoulder. A very muscular, tanned shoulder that went well with the rest of his well-built upper body. A body that had no fat anywhere and called to her.

  “Right now I’m afraid of you,” he muttered.

  She laughed again at the seriousness of his tone. “You don’t have to fear me. I won’t bite, unless you want me to.”

  He grunted but didn’t comment and Journey moved farther into the room, taking in his space. The bedroom was nothing like the living room that had dull beige walls with no pictures, and furniture that had seen better days. Whereas the bedroom looked warm and inviting. The king-sized bed with a fabric-covered headboard that went to the ceiling, took up most of the space. The walls were a soft blue with artwork strategically placed, as well as curtains and a comforter to bring all the colors together.

  “This room is stunning. Why doesn’t the rest of the apartment look like this?”

  Laz shrugged. “This is the most important room in the place. Where I spend most of my time.”

  “Oh,” she said with more disappointment than intended. Maybe the rumors of him having a different woman every night were true.

  “Get your head out of the gutter. I’ve never brought a woman here,” he said as if reading her mind. “The last thing I need is some clingy-ass woman showing up on my doorstep at all times of the night. Here, put this on and don’t even think about taking that lacy…thing off.” He shoved the navy-blue Atlanta Braves T-shirt into her hands and left her in the room.

  Journey stood stunned holding the T-shirt. “Are you saying that I’m clingy?” she asked kicking off her heels and removing the lace top before slipping into his shirt, ignoring how it went almost to her knees. While she was at it, she slipped out of her pants and tossed them in a nearby chair. Going out there in only his shirt and her panties would be a bold move, but she was on a mission.

  Journey backtracked to the living room. “So are you?”

  “Am I…” He stopped, his gaze taking in her attire, but he didn’t comment, only cleared his throat. “Am I what?”

  “Are you saying that I’m clingy?” She noticed at some point he had slipped into a T-shirt to her disappointment. She would much rather see him shirtless.

  “Journey, I’m not talking about you.” He opened the bag of food that was on the sofa and inhaled. “Good, hamburgers and fries. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

  Laz quickly warmed their food in the microwave, moving around with the efficiency of a man who spent time in the kitchen. When he snatched a beer and a bottle of water out of the refrigerator he grumbled something under his breath as if he was mad at the world.

  “So is that sexual frustration you’re taking out on the food and those poor, defenseless bottles?” she taunted, ignoring his low growl that floated from the kitchen.

  Standing near the small dinette table gave her a view into the tiny kitchen. She didn’t know what she expected, but she was a little surprised to see everything so neat and clean. Now she knew why he called her a slob.

  “Have a seat so we can eat.” He slammed the water bottle down in front of her and took a long drag from his beer.

  Journey smirked behind her hand, enjoying how rattled he was. “How do you know I didn’t want a beer?”

  “I have a feeling you’ve had enough to drink tonight.” He took a huge bite of his hamburger. “So what’s going on? Why are you here?”

  “Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?”

  “No. Try again.”

  “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought dinner.”

  A slow smile spread across Laz’s mouth. “Is that right? You know, you’re cute when you’re trying to play all innocent. Tell me what really brought you to my neighborhood.”

  They ate in silence until she said, “I ran into Gabe after work today.”

  Laz tensed. His hazel-green eyes studied her, growing darker the longer he looked at her. “Did he—”

  “He didn’t touch me, but it seemed someone had definitely put their hands on him.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, and they messed him up pretty bad. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said with a straight face. There was no remorse in his tone and if she didn’t know better, she would believe him. But she knew better.

  “I think he threatened me.”

  Laz’s gaze snapped to her. “What? What did he say?”

  “He told me he knows I had something to do with the beat down. As if I know people who do stuff like that.” Having second thoughts about whether or not to tell him the rest, Journey toyed with her napkin.<
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  “What else did he say?”

  She looked into Laz’s eyes and after a long hesitation said, “He told me that I had better watch myself.”

  “Oh hell no!” Laz lunged from his seat and backed away from the table. He ran both hands through his tousled hair before he turned back to her. “Journey, if he ever comes near you again, you have to tell me.”

  “When I arrived here bleeding, you said that if Hall did this, he’s a dead man. Did you mean that?”

  “Every word.”

  “Laz.” Journey said his name, but didn’t know how to respond to the conviction in his admission. Knowing he thought like this, there was no way she’d tell him anything else that happened between her and Gabe.

  They ate the rest of their meal in silence, each in their own thoughts. Journey should’ve felt flattered that he cared that much to fight her battles, but on the other hand, his words scared her. She believed he would actually hurt Gabe if he stepped out of line, and she would never forgive herself if Laz ended up in jail because of her.

  “We’re going to have to do something about Gabe,” Laz finally spoke.

  No way was Journey asking what that something was. “I’m going to move forward in filing a formal complaint against him, and if necessary, I’ll get a restraining order. And that’s all we’re going to do right now.”

  Laz rubbed the back of his neck and Journey could tell he wasn’t satisfied with her response. He stood and gathered their trash, tossing the wrappers in the garbage before returning to his seat.

  “Tell me, counselor. Do you know people who could have given Gabe that beat down? Should I be worried that you’ll send someone after me one day?”

  The right corner of her lips inched up. “If I knew someone like that, he probably would’ve already paid you a visit the first time you screwed up one of my cases.”

  Laz threw his head back and laughed, loosening some of the tension in the room. “I don’t know why you always accuse me of screwing up your cases, woman. My job is to get these chumps off the street. It’s your job to make sure they stay off.” He shrugged. “I can’t help it if you drop the ball sometimes.”