Free Nickolas-1 by Kathi S. Barton Page B

not paying you enough? I would think that the way you live, rent free, you’d have more than...”
    “ Yeah, you would think that, wouldn’t you ?” she screamed at him. “I can’t cash those checks. I have to work to eat. Here.” She reached behind her and grabbed the clipped bundle of envelopes from the front of the refrigerator and tossed them at him. They all had Grant Corporation stamped in the upper left hand corner. And all but one of them was still sealed. “I have to have a credit history to open a checking account, but I can’t get a credit history because I don’t have a flipping account. Without the history, I can’t cash those stupid checks, and so on.
    I asked that dick head in accounting to give me cash and she laughed at me.
    Stupid bitch.”

    “I don’t understand. You need a credit check to open a checking account.
    That’s ridiculous. I gave you a credit card. Why didn’t you just use that? Or better yet, one of those check cashing places I see ads for on the television? That would have given you cash at least.”
    Nick was still looking at the six pay checks. Why hadn’t she said...but she had, he remembered, weeks ago. He’d told her to go to accounting to get it taken care of. He hadn’t even bothered to see if she’d gotten it resolved.
    “Oh yeah, that. It’s in Mr. Grant’s freezer. I was informed by your lovely bitch of an account that I need to have approval every time I spend over fifteen dollars and she was not going to let me spend your money willy nilly. Yes, willy nilly spender, that’s me. And have you seen how much they charge to cash a check at one of those places? It would take me years to ever catch up. I knew a girl on my row in prison who was into them for thousands of … Take. The.
    Fucking. Glass out now !”
    Nick looked at Byron with a raised brow and he backed up. “I don’t have it.
    I’ve...she’s never been to my place.”
    “No, that freezer. Just open it up; it’s right there. Might as well take it. I can’t use it either.”
    Nick looked back at Damon and saw that he’d pulled a syringe out and had filled it while she was talking. He nodded at him and he suddenly knew that he was going to knock her out. If they didn’t, she’d be walking to the bar glass or no glass.
    “Morgan, honey. You need to relax all right? Let me hold you while Damon removes the glass.” She slapped at his hands again, but they weren’t as hard as before. He didn’t know whether it was because she was resigned to the fact that he was going to touch her, or she was getting weaker from blood loss.
    “Stay away from me, I mean it. I told you before that I— ouch ! What the hell was that?” When she tried to pull her thigh away from Damon, he held tighter.
    Nick knew she was going to have a bruise, but she’d left them no choice. Damon didn’t look up at her as he finished the injection.
    “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t work with you moving around like that.
    You’re going to go to sleep now and when you wake up, the glass will be gone and I’ll have you all stitched up. You’re not going to be walking on that foot for awhile, but we’ll take care of you.” Damon pulled out the syringe and began rubbing the area while Nick held her hands away. He could feel when the drugs started to kick in; she was fighting less and relaxing more.
    “I hate you, both of you. And I quit. I won’t work...you tricked me...I want to go back to prison. Please take me back...there has to be a way for me...I hate you...” Nick pulled her close to his chest and just held her.
    The next twenty minutes were tense while Damon worked to get the glass out. It was right up against the bone and had to be worked loose before he could remove it completely. Even as out as she was, she whimpered a few times. Nick whispered nonsense in her ear and continued to hold her tight and tired not to think about her telling him she hated him. He watched Damon put in every one of the