Page 8 of Blaze & Ajax
Everyone cleared out of the bathroom as I rested my hands on the sink and pulled my eyes away from the mirror, unable to look at myself any longer. I had to admit I was getting worried about money. Years of having everything handed to me had made it hard to manage my finances. I had no experience in anything, never being taught how to save or how to fucking survive.
I knew I had to find a job but fuck if I wanted to. It felt like lowering myself, unable to shed that ‘rich boy’ persona. But I had to let it go. Iknewthat. Even worse, I’d have to go over there and try to get my shit back from Mom.
“Fuck it.”
I left the bathroom and stopped when I saw the office door slightly cracked. Was there cash in there? Did Alpha have a safe? For the first time in my life, I had the urgeto steal.
Even if I got a job, it wouldn’t pay me on time to cover my bills.
Just call Storm, my drunken brain told me as I pushed open the office door.
The space wasn’t large, but it had a desk, a computer, and an office chair. There were some black and white photos of the city of Baltimore hanging on the walls. On Alpha’s desk was a group photo of his ‘Rejects.’ He also had a bookcase with some books and paperwork stacked on the shelves. There was even more paperwork on the desk. It was organized chaos in there.
I scanned the room, feeling more buzzed and wonky, looking for anything of value, hoping Alpha was stupid enough to leave cash lying around, but I didn’t see any.
“Dammit,” I muttered.
When I turned around to leave, I crashed right into the wall.
No, not a wall.
Ajax.
He looked down at me with hard brown eyes and a frown. “You snooping around here, Kitten?”
“Just lookin’ for the bathroom. And stop fucking calling me that.”
He stood closer, towering over me, but I refused to cower.
“Fucking liar,” he hissed.
I straightened my body to stand taller, looked up at him, and poked his chest. “Who the fuck are you calling a liar?”
“You don’t belong here.”
I knew well enough that Ajax meant with his friends, in this bar, and in this office—I didn’t belong anywhere.
“That’s not up to you, is it?”
His eyes were a little erratic, and he was bouncy as he scowled. I sensed the danger too late when he fisted my shirt, pulling me up on my tippy toes so we were face to face.
“If it were up to me, you’d be fucking dead.”
My stomach lurched, and my mind tried to be afraid, but I’d had too much alcohol. “You wouldn’t kill me, Precious. You love to hate me too much.”
“I may not kill you, but I can definitely hurt you. And don’t fucking call me that.”
“What? Precious? Oh, but you can call me ‘kitten?’”
He fisted my shirt tighter because it was either that or lash out. You could see his desperate need to control himself behind those chocolatey eyes.
“I fucking hate you,” he said in a low growl. “One day, I’m going to destroy you. One day, everyone is going to turn their backs on you. No one likes you. Not even Cueball.”
My face burned and traveled throughout my entire body, feeling his words straight to my core, hitting all my fucking sensitive nerves.
I gripped his scruffy face under his chin and fisted his thick, dark brown hair with my other hand as we fought for dominance. I’d probably lose, but I wasn’t backing down.
“Cueball and I are best friends. Fuck the rest. Fuck you, too. I don’t care about your friends, you, or whether you all like me.”