Only You by Jerry Cole (the top 100 crime novels of all time TXT) 📕

Bradley sighed as the anger left his body as quick as it had come. “You’re stuck, Sherman. You are – don't try and... you’re stuck in this fucking lockdown bog and where that sucks... the least you could do is try not to enjoy it. Fuck, at least pretend that you want it to end because it’s going to eventually and when it does... I really hope you’re ready.”

Sherman didn’t look angry with Bradley. Which was almost annoying as that was kind of what Bradley wanted. Instead, he looked almost like he pitied him, like he was looking down on Bradley with distaste.

“If you only knew how much I did for you.”

“Sherman...”

“But that’s all right.” He pushed himself up and took a step back toward the door. “Lockdown will end soon. When it does, I’m going to be fine — don’t worry about me. Things will go back to normal eventually. Normal for me is more than all right.” He turned and headed for the door. When he reached it, he turned back and looked right at Bradley. “You better hope it does, anyhow. Because... well, life is a lot easier when you have a rich sugar daddy willing to pay for everything for you. Everything. It makes it a lot easier to spend all day locked in a room reading lines to yourself, pretending you’re working for a living.” And then he was gone.

And not just from the kitchen. Sherman stormed through the living room and right out the front door. It was the first time that either of the men had been left alone in that apartment for nearly two months and the feeling was one of utter emptiness and loneliness.

Bradley felt immediately guilty. And it wasn’t just because he could literally hear his heart thumping inside his chest and echoing throughout the empty apartment. Or because he suddenly became aware of how much he actually did rely on Sherman to survive. He felt guilty because... well, because he had hurt Sherman and that was never something he intended.

Sherman was right in his own frustrating way. It was because of him that Bradley was able to live so freely right now, without a worry in the world. And although that didn’t make Sherman’s behavior all right, it did go some way toward blunting his actions.

The two men needed one another more than either was willing to admit. Sherman needed Bradley for survival... and Bradley needed him for the same reason. He had no idea where Sherman had gone. He only hoped that he came back soon.

Chapter Eighteen

 This was the fifth time that Sherman had been inside the Hades Angels clubhouse, but that didn’t make it any better. The thick cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke constantly hanging in the air still made Sherman gag. The way the other bikers stared daggers at him whenever he walked down those steps still sent shivers up his spine. And worst of all, Curly, the leader of the gang, the head honcho, the toughest looking fucker that Sherman had ever met in his life, still made him want to scream his lungs out, turn on his heel and run as fast as he could as far away as he could without looking back. Needless to say, the experience was never easy.

“You’re back.” Curly had been playing pool when Sherman walked in. The pool que was now strung across the back of his neck so he could rest his hands on both ends. It made him look even scarier somehow, like he was suddenly about to whip it out and stab someone.

“Well, I really like it here.” Sherman wasn’t even sure why he tried for a joke. They never landed, and only ever seemed to make things worse. Indeed, he could feel the room stiffen as he chuckled awkwardly. “I mean —”

“How much you need?” Curly was never one for small talk. It was maybe his most endearing quality.

“Oh. Right.” Sherman hurried to the pool table. He could sense every pair of eyes on him. It was like they half suspected him to pull a weapon out and attack Curly, so they had to be ready. “Unfortunately... money is a little tight in my world right now. So, I’m only going to be needing —”

Curly held a hand up to stop Sherman from talking. It worked, as Sherman just about swallowed his tongue trying to not speak. “Light on cash?”

“Funds in general. Lockdown.” An awkward laugh.

“I see.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Curly put the pool cue down and leaned forward on the table as he ran his eyes up and down Sherman’s short, skinny physique. It made him extremely uncomfortable, not helped by the way his burn scars seemed to glow under the light, or the knowing smile that Curly wore.

What the fuck was he doing here? Every time that Sherman finished a bag, he told himself that would be it. And every time he said it to himself, he meant it. It wasn’t like he enjoyed being a coke addict. He didn’t get off on it, or brag about it, or even think about it where he could. He hated the fact! Worse now that he didn’t even have the money to afford the fucking stuff!

But the last month or so had been hard... real fucking hard. With lockdown implemented, and his job now lying by the wayside, Sherman had become painfully aware of how pitiful his existence was. Worse too that Bradley was doing so darn well. It seemed to shine a spotlight on Sherman’s own hopeless scenario. Cocaine was the only answer.

“How much?” Curly finally spoke in that gravelly, hard voice of his.

“Just a gram,” Sherman hurried. It was a painfully small amount, and wouldn’t even last him the week. But it was all he could do right now.