Disengaged: A Dangerously Forbidden Love Affair by Jamie A Magee Page A

that my father was telling the truth, and the look in Slayton’s eyes told me he didn’t either.
    “What happens when the time is up?”
    “We’ll deal with it.”
    “You just said—,” he stopped me short with a growl as he stood up and charged toward me.
    “I’m busting my ass pushing every fucker that your father took bets for—that he never should have—to get the cash. Shit, I don’t have time to fuck with—all for you . That asshole father of yours fucks up everything he touches.” He gave me a hard once over. “You have no hard limit. If anyone deserves your cold shoulder, it’s him.”
    I didn’t care that what he said was true. It made me mad. It hurt. It put my defenses up, ones Slayton saw coming before they were locked in place. They fanned his fury and frustration with me.
    He balled his fists. “I’m getting him out of this shit. If he fucks up how I have to get him out—if he fucks up again—I won’t be responsible for what I do.”
    Treacherously, with anger as a shield, I said. “I’ll never forgive you.”
    Slayton growled a curse then turned and left me alone in the dark attic. Sunday Mass the following morning had begun before I saw him again. He was holding our breakfast in the crook of his arm with a look of defeat on his face. I could tell by the dark circles under his eyes that he hadn’t slept, but I was sure I never heard his bike roar down the streets either. I had no idea where he had been, only that it must have been close.
    “You’re my hard limit,” he said in a broken undertone. “I can’t say why,” he paused listening to the choir below, the words of grace. Slayton swallowed tensely struggling for words. “I don’t understand it enough to say.” He swayed his head. “Forgive me or not. I’m going to protect you.” 
    I dropped my head, a single tear rolled down my cheek. “I’ve got to get him out of this city.”
    The humbling apology Slayton approached me with was fading behind his resentment and jealousy. “You think his enemies won’t find him?”
    “I think I would regret not trying. Letting someone I love fall into ruin.”
    “Why?” he snapped.
    “It’s not in me to give up, too stubborn.” I met his cagey stare. “I was taught to be merciful, forgiving, even when rebelled against.”
    Shock lit his gaze as he fisted his hands, glancing at the numbers tattooed there. A second later he dropped his head in contemplation. I don’t know what his thoughts were, or why his fists remained tight as the rest of him eased. But once he found a way to agree with them he sat the bags in his arms down and ticked his head for me to come to him.
    And I did.
    We swayed to the voices of a choir and congregation that were oblivious to us, but not our hell.

TEN
    I never let myself come to the realization that I’d become a squatter that constantly let gangsters frame my day as I waited for the other shoe to drop. I moved from minute to minute the best I could.
    Instead of surfacing at Mrs. Jin’s place or Slayton’s, I showered in the locker room of the school late at night, sometimes for hours. The colder, the better. I wasn’t sure how much more sexual tension I could take between Slayton and me. Sleeping next to him every night in barely any clothes was a new kind of torture—he felt like he was a million miles away.
    On the days I did work, Slayton took me to and from the cleaners, but he never stayed anymore. Once I was home, fed, and safe he’d vanish with little explanation. I’d always wake with him at my side, in a possessive hold.
    More than once I saw that his knuckles were busted open, even bruised. When I asked him if he was going in the ring to help with my dad’s debt, he never answered. His stare would grow darker telling me it was a topic better left untouched just then.
    Little by little, I was falling harder for him, understanding him. Even though he kept his secrets, any life outside of our dilemma shrouded, I read him.
    I asked