Bad Boy's Baby: Wicked Angels MC (45 page)

Finally, we pulled up in the parking lot of my apartment complex. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I go now?” I asked. “Thanks for dropping me off first.”

To my horror, Roger twisted the key and yanked it out of the ignition. “I’m coming with you,” he said, and I felt my stomach drop. “Help me carry this shit inside.” Roger handed me one of the bags—it was heavier than I’d imagined—and climbed out of the driver’s side. His jovial mood seemed to be back, he was humming and whistling to a song that had played on the radio when we were in the store. I felt like I was going to be sick.

“And don’t think about running ahead of me and shutting me out,” Roger said with a grin. “Remember, I still got a few bullets in here.”

I shuddered. It was as though Roger had read my mind; that was exactly what I’d thought of doing. My legs felt like jelly as I quickly walked over to the stairs and climbed up. Taking a deep breath, I wondered what would happen when the cops showed up. I knew they’d surround the place; both the front and the back doors would be off-limits. I wondered if they’d shoot me before I had a chance to defend myself. It would be what I deserved, and probably easier than a prison sentence.

But I wouldn’t get to apologize to Blake. I closed my eyes and pushed the front door of my apartment open, praying that he would be there. But the lights were off; it was empty, just as Roger and I had left it a couple of hours ago. It didn’t feel like hours had passed since this morning, it still felt like a dream. Looking around, I even saw the cup of coffee that I’d tried to drink before Roger had shown up and punched me. I shivered. I wondered how long Roger would stay.

“Hurry up,” Roger said under his breath. He dragged the last bag inside and slammed the door behind him, locking the bolt. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“I want you to leave,” I said in a shaky voice. “Please, please just go away. Please, Roger!”

Roger shook his head. “We gonna celebrate,” he said with a grin. “Mix me a drink.”

I wanted to cry as I forced myself to walk into the kitchen. “I have vodka,” I said. “That’s it.”

“Make me a drink,” Roger repeated. He grinned at me. “Make yourself one, too,” he added generously. “I hate drinking alone.”

I glanced away. Roger was staring at me, breathing hard. Suddenly, I had an idea. “Okay,” I said, forcing my voice to be cheery. “You go relax. I’ll make us each something to drink.”

Roger slunk into the living room; I heard the couch groan with his weight. When I was satisfied that he wouldn’t come after me, I texted Blake: I’ll call you shortly. Pick up! Then, I mixed two drinks. I poured four shots into Roger’s and added some grenadine to kill the flavor of the alcohol. In mine, I only poured half of a shot. When I was convinced that they both looked and smelled the same, I carried them out and handed the more potent drink to Roger.

“Drink up,” I said, clinking glasses. “After all, we are celebrating, right?”

Roger knocked back half of his drink immediately, swallowing hard and wiping his mouth. “More,” he demanded, holding the glass out to me. I bit the insides of my mouth to keep from grinning. “Come on, bitch,” he added. “Move!”

Walking back to the kitchen, I refreshed Roger’s drink with even more booze than before. To make it look even, I drained half of my glass and pinched my cheeks so they’d redden. Blake still hadn’t texted me back, and I was worried that he hadn’t received the message.

“Here you are,” I said sweetly, handing the glass to Roger. He glared at me and took a long drink. “Can I get you anything else?”

Roger leaned back on the sofa and put his feet on the coffee table. He was still wearing his shoes, and I could see the wrapper from a stick of gum clinging to one of the soles. I shuddered, but I knew that saying anything about it would only get me in trouble.

I sat down and watched as Roger drank. He greedily worked his mouth around the rim of the glass, sucking down all the vodka and juice and grenadine until the glass was empty. I watched him carefully. He looked at me and belched loudly. It reeked of vodka and I wrinkled my nose.

“Hey, why ain’t you happy?” Roger had the same relaxed, happy voice that he had when he was in a good mood. I shivered; even his cheeriness was awful to be around. “We just got away with the heist of the century, baby,” he added. “I’m real thrilled about that.”

“I’m not,” I said, taking a small sip of my drink. I could barely taste the alcohol in it, but I didn’t want to take any chances. The last thing I needed right now was to be drunk. “I’m going to prison, Roger. That ruined my life.”

“Baby, that didn’t ruin your life,” Roger said with a chortle. “Sit down and relax with me for a little bit. You earned it.”

“What are you planning on doing?” I glared at him. “You can’t just stay on my couch forever.”

Roger pulled the gun out of his waistband and twirled it around on one finger. “I’ll stay as long as I please,” he said, sounding smug, like a cat. “So don’t you go trying to force me out of here,” he added. “You just do whatever little Roger tells you to do.”

I narrowed my eyes. “This wasn’t part of the deal,” I said icily. “You were supposed to take me home and drop me off. Remember?”

“I changed my mind,” Roger said. He grinned at me. “Come on, baby, come up here.” He patted the couch next to him. “Come sit and relax a spell with me.”

I shook my head. “I want to change,” I told him. “This outfit is uncomfortable.”

Roger grinned widely. “Well you looked the part for long enough, I guess,” he said. “Go on, then. Hurry back. Want me to come watch?”

I dry heaved. “No!” I cried out. “Stay here.”

Roger threw his head back and laughed. I took the opportunity to slip down the hall and lock myself in my bedroom. My heart was pounding and I had no idea what I should do. There was no text from Blake yet, and I wondered if he’d even seen it. I wondered where he was; maybe Roger had arranged for him to be hurt, or tied up, or killed. My mouth went dry. I was acutely aware of the seconds ticking by and I knew that I was wasting time. I hadn’t even started to change yet.

Finally, I went into my bathroom and shut and locked the door. This way, Roger would have to get through two doors. And even though the walls were thin, I didn’t think he’d be able to hear me if I whispered.

Taking out my phone, I called Blake. It rang three times before he answered, and I felt my heart jump into my throat.

“Sarah? Where are you?”

“I’m fine,” I said quietly. “I’m okay. We’re at my apartment. Roger’s here—he’s drinking. He’s in the living room.”

“Listen, Sarah, you need to get some kind of evidence, okay? Try to trick him into admitting that he forced you to help him. Try to record it on your phone, okay?”

I nodded tearfully. “I don’t think I can,” I said. “I’m scared, Blake.”

“You have to,” Blake said. “Do it now, Sarah.”

“Blake, wait!” I hissed. “There’s something I need to tell you. I’m so sorry about the other night, Blake. I didn’t mean to leave. I’m really sorry. I don’t care about your past.” As I spoke, tears welled up in my eyes and before I could stop them, they were spilling down my cheeks.

“It’s fine,” Blake said in a rushed voice. “Now go get that recording, Sarah. That’s the only way I can help you. Be brave,” he added. “I know you can do it.”

I blinked and the hot tears fell down my cheeks. “Okay,” I whispered. “I have to go.” I heard footsteps in the hallway and hung up, shoving the phone down on the counter. I turned on the taps and splashed my face so it wouldn’t look like I had been crying.

“Sarah!” I heard Roger call. “What are you doing in there?”

“I’m using the bathroom,” I called back, trying to sound annoyed. “Can you give me a moment?”

“I need another drink!” Roger said. He hiccupped loudly. “You need to come back so you can make me another drink.”

“Hold on,” I said. “I’ll be right there.”

Roger stayed outside of the door, breathing hard. I closed my eyes and counted to twenty. By the time I got to fifteen, I heard him slowly turn and begin to walk away. Closing my eyes in relief, I let myself out of the bathroom and into my bedroom.

Quickly I ripped off my outfit and tossed it on the ground. I’d loved that silk suit, and I’d taken really good care of it throughout the years, but I never wanted to see it again. I knew that I could never wear it again without memories of this awful day coming up to haunt me. Leaving in on the floor, I pulled on loose jeans and a flowy blouse that hid my breasts. I thought that Roger was probably too drunk to try anything, but I didn’t want to give him any ideas. With a sigh, I crept out of the bedroom with my phone tucked in my jeans.

“Roger!” I sang out cheerfully. “I’m going to mix you another drink now! What do you want?”

“Same thing as before,” Roger said in a feeble voice. “Make it stronger this time. I could barely taste the last one.”

I walked into the living room with a grin plastered on my face. Roger reclined on the couch, looking like he was about to pass out. I picked the empty glass off the coffee table and carried it into the kitchen. I didn’t have very much vodka left, but I poured all of it into the glass and topped it with extra grenadine.

“Here you go,” I said sweetly when I was back in front of Roger. “Drink up now!”

He took the glass from me and greedily drank. Liquid spilled out of the glass and ran down his chin and he wiped himself hastily, but not before it spilled onto his shirt. When he wasn’t looking, I reached behind me and pressed the home button of my phone. I’d set the recorder up before I’d left my bedroom, and now I prayed that it was turned on.

“Roger,” I said as I perched on  the edge of the couch. “Have you thought about robbing Tinder’s for a long time?”

Roger guffawed. Bits of spittle landed on my face and I wiped them away, trying to subdue my disgust. “Oh, I’ve thought about it for longer than you’ve been alive,” he said with a cackle. “That’s the holy grail, baby. And you helped!”

“But I didn’t want to,” I said quickly. “You know that, right? You made me help you.”

Roger looked at me and laughed. I felt the panic start to set in. Maybe he wouldn’t help me. Maybe he knew what I was doing, somehow. I felt the tears start to come back and even though I tried to blink them away, one of them rolled down my cheek.

“Aw, baby,” Roger said. “Don’t cry. Come over here and sit next to Roger.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “You might make me do something else I don’t wanna do.”

Roger laughed again. I was relieved to see that he wasn’t getting angry. “Baby, Roger ain’t gonna make you do shit,” he said. “You already helped me more than you could ever know. You did Roger a big favor.”

“I didn’t do you a favor,” I replied. “You forced me to help you. Come on, Roger. At least admit it.”

“Fine,” Roger said. He stuck his tongue out at me in a juvenile display. “I made you help me. Happy now? Are you still mad?” He made his voice into a grotesque approximation of a little kid’s. “Did Roger hurt Sarah’s feelings?”

I sniffled. “No!” I said. “But I’m going to prison now, because of you. It’s all your fault! You ruined my life, Roger.” I said. “And I hate you for that.”

“Come on, baby,” Roger said. His voice softened and I stepped closer. “I only did that because I needed you,” he said. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You think Roger could have gone in there and not looked suspicious if he was looking at jewelry? You think I could have gone and scouted all those pieces without someone thinking I was planning a robbery? I don’t look innocent like you, baby, I just don’t. So I had to use you.”

Bingo
. “Thanks for admitting it,” I said, sniffling. I wiped my nose and tried to give Roger a pathetic smile. “I feel a little better now.”

“Of course, baby, that’s what Roger likes to do,” he slurred. “You wanna hear more stories about Roger?”