Garden of Sins

38. Hi, princess

Carter

I’m fucked up.

It is dark around me, only the glow of a few ceiling spotlights penetrate the smoke-filled air. Some ancient song is playing on the jukebox in the corner — Elvis Presley, Devil in Disguise. I snort.

I’ve been gone for a day now. Where exactly I am, I don’t know. Somewhere on the outskirts of Chicago, I think. In a racy bar where the counter is sticky and the bartender looks like he’s his best customer. It’s relatively crowded since it’s the weekend, I think.

I almost beat my brother to death and left Melissa at a rest stop. A lot of shit for one day.

Shit.

But it all just bubbled up inside me. I couldn’t and wouldn’t keep it in check any longer. And no, I’m not calling home right now. Everything is fine. I keep telling myself that. Besides, I am so drunk that I probably couldn’t even dial the number. Where is my fucking cell phone anyway?

I don’t know anything anymore.

My mind is empty and it needs to be, otherwise, I’d recall too much of what I did yesterday. Otherwise, I’d still feel his bones breaking under my fists.

“Oh, fuck,” I murmur into my beer. I have no idea how many this is. Anyway, no more bubbles bubbling up. The jukebox switches to the next song and some guys are singing along. It’s hot and stuffy in here. My black muscle shirt sticks to me as sweat runs down my back.

I think a chick is dancing on the table in front of me, but I don’t look up. With an a

In the next moment, something falls hard and heavy into my lap, so I wake up and jerk forward.

“Fuck, what the fuck?!” I push up and my hands automatically grab it as an arm wraps around my neck. “What the fuck...” I growl and look down — straight into light green eyes.

A chick lies across my lap and is blowing black locks out of her face.

“Ooops,” she giggles with red cheeks and glances up at me. Actually, I was about to give her a stupid look and push her to the floor, but everything inside me froze.

I frown as I gaze into her eyes. She looks at me too and doesn’t move. I do not move either. The jukebox switches to the next song and some men are crooning along again, but I can only stare at her like a fool. Full, red-painted lips, long black eyelashes around green eyes, gentle curving nose, and high cheekbones. A light film of sweat adorns her ta

“You could have had it differently,” I mutter with a frown.

She stares at me. I wonder if maybe she’s dumb because she does not say anything and lift an eyebrow.

“But you are pretty,” she then acknowledges and nods as if I were good merchandise. I’ve never been checked out like this by a chick before.

“I know,” I reply, shrugging, and her eyes sparkle playfully. That’s exactly my kind of sparkle. I still make no move to push her off me. She also remains seated and swings her feet back and forth as if this was completely normal, like she sits on me every day.

“What’s your name?” she asks tentatively.

“Why?” I ask.

She wrinkles her brow. “Because I’m on your lap.”

“What difference does it make what my name is?” I give her a lazy grin and she blinks and mumbles something to herself.

Fuck, she’s hot, I notice when I glance at her body.

FUCK.

“So what should I call you?” Her eyes scan me just before she looks up into mine again.

“Just call me Carter.” I sigh and she sighs too. “And what’s your name?” I ask, resting an elbow on the table next to us and my temple on my fist.

“What do you think my name is?” She gives me a cheeky smile.

I study her for a moment. Fuck, she has a really hot body. Fantastic goods.

“I’ll call you whatever you want.”

“How about princess,” she offers, lifting her chin a little and her green eyes sparkle even more playfully.

“Okay, princess.”

She giggles. “I like that,” she says.

“Oh, that’s nice.” I notice she is barefoot and under the table are some black heels.

“So, Carter, what brings you here?” She glances around the bar that’s located so far outside the city that only lonely souls who are trying to escape their demons are present.

“Clearly not the good beer.”

She glances at the table and frowns. As my gaze wanders, I wonder what she is doing here. Does she belong to some jerk-off here?

“Are you alone here?” I ask aloud.

Now she looks back at my face from the beer. “Yes,” she replies smoothly and tilts her head. “By the way, beer always tastes disgusting.”

“What tastes good?” I ask, not surprised to find out she is alone here. She seems like someone who can defend herself in an emergency even if she is small and petite. On the other hand, I don’t like the idea that she would be on her own if it came down to it.

“Whiskey?” she replies and looks at me questioningly. “You look like the type who likes whiskey.”

Again, the corner of my mouth lifts. “That’s right, princess.” What the fuck is wrong with my voice? “And you?”

She’s visibly melting because of me and that’s good because I want to fuck her, I just decided. “What do you think I like to drink?”

Again, my eyes wander over her. The finely cut, Mediterranean-looking face, the gold cross around her neck, which she tucks into the neckline of her not exactly cheap-looking dress the moment I look at it.

Aha.

“Hmmm...” I do and I don’t let on that I know very well what that cross means in Chicago.

“Hmm?” She mimics me and tilts her head.

“Something not too sweet, not too bitter… Sangria or grappa... No, not grappa, not sangria either,” I think aloud and she beams her white teeth at me.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to find out. We’ll just drink everything at the bar until you find out what I like!”

“Okay.” I grab her around her narrow waist and set her on her feet. Actually, her bare feet shouldn’t touch this dirty floor. When did I start having such stupid thoughts? Fuck, I want to fuck her, not marry her.

I get up and I stand over her by two heads as she puts her heels back on and gets a little taller. Still, she is short.

She takes my hand and I frown. What the hell? I hate hand-holding shit and here I am holding hands with a stranger.

But for whatever reason, she looks familiar. I feel like I’ve seen her before.

I follow her as she pulls me to the bar where she pushes herself onto a stool and kneels on it. Meanwhile, I stare at a guy who is checking out her ass and stand behind her.

I prop up one of my tattooed arms on the bar next to her. Fuck, she smells good. As she leans over for a closer look at the bottles behind the bar, her black hair spreads across her back and I check out her backside with my head tilted.

Fantastic stuff.

I will fuck her to death.

The thought makes me crack my neck because otherwise, I’ll fuck her right here.

She chats intensely with the bartender who rolls his eyes but then sets a few glasses on the bar, which he fills with a variety of drinks.

The pseudo-princess in front of me pulls a few bills out of her bra and lays them down for the bartender.

I put two fingers on it and push it back to her. I won’t let her pay for me. Instead, I reach into my back pocket and take out the wad I slipped into it.