Nicky the Driver (Underboss Insurrection Book 2) by Cate C. Wells

Author:Cate C. Wells [Wells, Cate C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2022-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter six

Nicky

Zita’s upset.

She’s slumped in the passenger seat, hugging herself like she’s cold even though I’ve got the heat all the way up.

I know her better than I know myself, but I often don’t understand her. Lucca threatened her—that’d roll off her. She’d be scared, but not freaked. He threatened Mattie, too. That would throw her, but she goes into protective mode when it comes to him. She doesn’t shut down.

This has to do with me in her bedroom. Her bottom dresser drawer. Those fucking snacks.

Back in school, I used to think she had a sweet tooth. I thought about buying her chocolates and leaving them in her locker. That kind of dumb kid shit.

But my mother, before she ODed, kept her kit in a shoebox in the back of her top dresser drawer. Doesn’t take a genius to realize that this is close to that. Zita’s not fat, probably because she’s always killing herself on that bike. She might puke, too. I’ve never seen evidence—like she doesn’t go to the bathroom right after she eats—but she’s good at hiding, and I don’t see everything all the time.

I searched it on the internet. If she’s puking or taking laxatives and shit, it could kill her. Ruin her heart, her kidneys. It also makes her fucking miserable, and that’s reason enough to do something about it.

But what, right?

Dad would lock Mom in the basement to sober her up, and as soon as he let her out, she’d be down the street sucking dick for a dime bag. This isn’t that kind of problem, and besides, that wasn’t exactly a solution—unless Dad meant to make Mom desperate and reckless, which is what he did. When a hot shot took her out, she knew there was a bad batch floating around, but she was fresh out of the basement and didn’t care.

I ease my foot off the gas. I don’t like to go more than twelve miles per hour above the limit. That’s the threshold for the speed cameras. There aren’t any in the part of town where we’re heading, but still—you’ve gotta keep yourself in the habit.

Criminals who get busted almost always have a story—pulled over for speeding, dropped something at the scene, something dumb. Like their subconscious is trying to get them caught. I’m not going out like that. I’ve got a reason to get away clean.

I glance over. Zita has her head turned, sullenly staring out the side window. It’s hard to believe that last night, I was balls deep in her hot, wet pussy.

My dick hardens like it has a dozen times today when I let my mind wander. She was hesitant at first, wary, stuck in her head, but then she let go, closed her eyes and clung to me, nuzzling her nose against my pecs, tasting my skin with the tip of her little pink tongue, raising her hips so I could sink deeper, letting me make her feel good.

She is everything I knew she’d be.

Soft.

Hungry.

She takes

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