The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(25)

It had been inevitable, really, now that he thought about it. Where they lived, who they lived with. Drugs were rampant in their apartment block, and though, miraculously, Hank had never been too curious about them himself, it was a miracle Morgan had avoided them for as long as she did. “She was fourteen and she thought she could keep it from me. Just like she thought she could keep the next time from me. I did everything I could think of to snap her out of it. Stole enough money to get her into a rehab program, punched out every dealer I came across to try and cut off her supply, but there was always somewhere for her to go. When the Aguiler ring moved into our neighborhood, shit got even worse.”

In all the time he’d been speaking, Juliet didn’t utter a word. The only hint he got that she was still listening was when she shifted against him, her uninjured ankle brushing his shoulder in a wordless entreaty to continue.

“This was, of course, in the early days, when Solomon was still slinging the shit himself. My guess is that his daddy wanted to make sure he was man enough to be on the streets where his drug was going and I don’t know if he was ever satisfied. All I ever saw was that he was a mean little shit that loved money and power - and only then from a safe block or so away. He respected nothing and no one - least of all a fucking fifteen year old girl with her entire life ahead of her.”

Now, he paused. It had been a decade since Morgan was taken from him, and it was still hard to talk about what happened. Simmons was probably the only one who knew the whole story. For Juliet, he simplified things. “It so happened that there was a four or five month stretch where Morgan didn’t use. I thought she was getting better - hell, she thought she was getting better. Then I went out to get food for us and mom one night and she snuck out. She didn’t have a stash of her own, and I hadn’t given her any money in a while, so she went looking for something she could snatch. Solomon and his piece of shit goons were in the area and Morgan pinched a few grams from their stash while they were waving their guns around.”

Hank closed his eyes as his chest tightened. He’d grown up to the sound of guns going off in their apartment complex, but he would never forget that particular gunshot.

Or his sister’s scream.

“He shot her. Didn’t even hesitate, just murdered her in cold blood. Over a few grams of coke.” Hank’s lip curled in disgust even as his stomach curdled in grief. “By that point, the Aguilers were already such hot shit that no cop with any ambition would touch them. Ma was too drunk to care and no one in the apartment block would testify. Her case died just like she did.”

He needed a cigarette. Badly. “I’m pretty sure everything is self-explanatory at this point.”

Hank was a shit person - always had been and always would be. Morgan had been the one good part of him. When he was young, he’d thought that if he could just get her out of the hellhole where they grew up, he could count that his one success.

Fuck success.

He was so lost in thought that he started slightly when Juliet’s slender hand curled into the hard muscle of his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Hank.” She murmured into the early dawn, her tone thick with empathy. “She didn’t deserve to die.”

“Yeah, well...lots of people die who don’t deserve to.” Hank brushed her off before the warm feeling in his stomach could take hold of him. Warmth, he knew, was dangerous. Almost as dangerous as affection. The only person he was ever close to died, so he didn’t get close anymore.

He changed the subject instinctively. “So, how’s that ankle?”

Almost immediately, Juliet shifted on the bed in an effort to hide said ankle. Unfortunately, the action only made her wince in discomfort.

Which told him all he needed to know.

In a smooth motion, Hank reached for her leg, taking her ankle gently but firmly between his palms. This time, when Juliet flinched, it was in anticipation rather than reaction. He frowned, feeling gently over the swelling beneath his fingertips. “That hurts?”

Slowly, Juliet shook her head. “Not your hands but...in general, it’s just...sore.” Her sudden scowl rivaled his own. “I can’t do anything for myself. Not even fucking walk.” The frustration in her voice was enough to incite a pang of empathy. How many times had he been laid up in a hospital bed, annoyed that he could barely feed himself?

“Give it a few weeks,” He muttered, his voice low in the darkness. “Your body needs time to heal.” To that, Juliet had no answer. But seeing as how she also hadn’t asked him to stop, Hank continued to manipulate her ankle gently. “How about that?”

She shook her head, the motion more heard than seen. The corner of Hank’s mouth kicked up in an amused smirk. “Well you obviously aren’t in as much pain as you make it sound.” She also seemed to have forgotten their earlier conversation, which had been his goal all along. Though he could feel her glaring at him in light of his flippant comment, she said nothing until a hiss of discomfort escaped her when he pressed a particularly sensitive spot at the back of her ankle.

“That hurts.”

“Sorry,” Hank grunted almost immediately, letting her foot slide from his grasp. He’d never been a foot man - he tended to think little of guys with such fetishes. It was a woman’s body that drew his attention - her curves, her angles and everything in between. That said, he’d noticed just how slender and small Juliet’s feet were.