Dealer's Choice (The Aces Motorcycle Club Book 8) by Ralston T

Author:Ralston, T.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Dallas

Grace’s hand lands on my arm before I get to my feet. “Please,” she whispers. Even now, she’s too afraid to say the words. She can’t manage to ask to get high by name. Instead, she just says, ‘please’, a quiet begging for help to get through life in this world of chaos and evil.

​I nod my acknowledgement, then pull on my boxers and fish the bag out of the pocket of the jeans I took off. Sitting on her side of the bed, I start to pour out a little of the drug on the nightstand to cut a line, but the hideous demon that has taken up space in Grace’s body uses her hand to pull the bag from my hand. She tilts her head back, opens her mouth, and begins to pour the powder into her mouth, sprinkling it all over her face.

​I grip her wrist and the front of her throat in my hands and fight her for it, careful not to shake the baggie too much so she won’t ingest enough to cause an overdose. Although I know that this is just the addiction taking control, it hurts to see it, to know that she took advantage of me in so many ways.

​“Goddammit,” I snarl, forcing distance between her mouth and the bag so that anything coming out just dusts her body where she can’t absorb it. I’m not going to watch history fucking repeat itself.

​Without giving her a break, I drag her to the bathroom by her throat and push her to her knees in front of the toilet. I switch my grip so that one hand is behind her head and put the fingers of the other hand down her throat. She fights and claws me while I make her vomit up every bit of that evil powder that may have made it into her system.

​Once her puking turns to dry retching, I let her fall to the floor while I search through the cabinets for a first aid kit. I know there’s narcan in here. Every cop has it. They may as well use this shit for seasoning on their food every day, they love it so much. I finally find the stash and dump all the plastic containers into the sink.

​Grace walks backwards on her hands as I open the pack and step towards her. Holding her hands out, she begs me not to. “Please don’t! I don’t need it! Please, please!”

​I don’t care for this kind of begging. It’s more frustrating than anything else to me, and doesn’t do anything to convince me to give in at all. It’s true- this isn’t the intended use for this medication, but I intend to use it this way. I can practically see the anxiety rising up in her chest telling her that once I block her brain’s ability to receive opiates she’ll die, but I’m a lot stronger than her anxiety.

​I grip the back of her neck and tilt her head back, trapping her body between my legs when she wriggles too much.

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