Losing Track (Living Heartwood #2)(4)

See? I am responsible. I know what my body can and can’t handle. I know my limits.

Jesse’s full mouth quirks into his sexy smile, and despite my brotherly affection for him, I can appreciate it.

He spins my stool and steps in front of me, then pulls me up. “To the blow mobile.”

I laugh. A true one. Reaching behind me, I grab my drink and down it quickly.

I’m alive and aware. I’m about to find my happy.





Melody

To the depths, to the black, the hole in me



“JUST STRADDLE ME.”

I groan as I shift on top of Jesse, trying to wedge my knees on either side of his hips. “Damn. Why can’t we just get in the back?” I grasp the oh shit handle with my left hand and palm the ceiling with my right. “This isn’t working.”

Jesse shakes his head. “Backseat is too obvious. This way, we just look like we’re getting busy.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Hey, use my jacket to block off the window.” He shrugs his vest off his shoulders, gets one arm free, and his hand nails me in the boob.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry…if your ass wasn’t so big…”

“Watch it,” I warn.

“I love that fat ass.” He grunts and grabs both butt cheeks, giving them a squeeze.

Laughing, I slap his arm. “Knock it off.”

Finally, he’s wriggled his jacket from behind him, and now hangs it over the passenger side window, trapping the bottom seam between the top of the window and door. I stare down at his sleeves—the tats covering his arms from neck to wrists. Colorful and intricate designs stand out against his leanly ripped arms.

Too bad. Dar’s right. If I didn’t know the guy so well, and he wasn’t a prospect for the MC, he’d probably make a damn fine boy toy. But a Lone Breed ol’ lady I am not. That much I know.

“You don’t have to dissolve, do you?” I ask, settling into a somewhat comfortable position on top of him.

“Already mixed and ready to go.” He lifts me, one hand anchored to my waist, as he digs into his pocket with his other. I try not to think about how good his movements feel against me…and am relieved when he pulls out the tiny vial. “Reach into the glove box.”

I do as requested, with difficulty, since I have to twist awkwardly to get my hand in the compartment. But I find the plastic wrapped syringes easily. “You should really hide these better.” I hand him two. “Where did you get these?”

“A local diabetic store. Much less suspicious than a clinic.” Unwrapping one syringe, he looks up at me. “And that’s my go-to claim if I ever get questioned by the po-po here. I’m diabetic. So don’t fear, baby.” He grins.

I huff a laugh, but it’s forced, my undivided attention on Jesse’s hands as he sticks the needle into the top of the vial. My skin is already tingling in anticipation. My hands sweaty, and my jaw clenched as tight as the muscles of my stomach.

Last time.

“You need a tie off?” he asks. “Since it’s been a minute, I might be able to find a vein no problem…but if you’d rather not chance the nasty bubble—”

“Uh, yeah,” I say absently. I reach over to the driver’s seat and grab my tote. I find a hair band and wrap it around my forearm, just above my elbow. “It’s too dark to see.”

Jesse licks his lips and holds my arm out between us. He flicks the center of my arm a couple of times, waits for a vein to appear. “They look good. Guess it was smart to lay off for a while. I can find one no problem.”

I nod. Anyone else, I’d have called bullshit. But for this one thing, I trust Jesse completely. He wouldn’t stick me if he couldn’t find a vein. He knows the pain I suffered the one time I missed, and a bubble the size of a small almond popped up on my hand. It was so f*cking painful I actually cried. It didn’t go away for weeks.

But that fear is not enough to keep me from IV’ing in the dark in a parked tin can of a car on top of one of my best friends. The rush is just too great a temptation. And like I promised myself—this is the very last time.

I feel a quick pinch, and I watch as he inserts the needle deeper, the tube of saline and coke turning pink as some of my blood swirls into the mix. Pale pink. It’s a beautiful color. My favorite. And as the first effects of the drug hit my system, my head falls back. It’s warm. Tingling at first. Then the burn hits. But it’s such a sweet burn. I can feel it traveling through me, instantly hitting my heart. Which beats wildly.

“Wow,” I say. “This isn’t cut much, huh?” I close my eyes and envision the firing synapses exploding across my lids like white-hot livewires thrashing my brain. Tracers swim across my blacked-out vision. My head lightens, no gravity. Then—

Perfectly…

Euphorically…

Numb.

I hear Jesse’s deep laugh. “It’s pretty damn pure.” He grunts, and I know he’s taking his own hit.

I force my head forward and open my eyes. “What are you doing, Jess?”

He doesn’t have to tie off. His veins—though having been worked over pretty hard—always show. I guess that’s the perk of being a guy and having muscles.

“I doubt I have anything to worry about with you,” he says, using the same syringe he just used on me. “Do I?” Removing the needle from his arm, he flicks his gaze up, his dark eyes almost black as his pupils dilate.