Free Slide (Black Addiction #1) by T. Gephart Page A

bakery, the huge cupcake sign looming above the doorway he’d just walked through.
    Without much thought—or common sense it seemed—I took off in a flat out run hoping to catch him before he disappeared again. The alternative of turning up at his house way too stalker-ish, even for me. My feet pounded the pavement as I bounded to where he was. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t a runner.
    “Hey, Alison.” I’d barely jogged through the narrow open doorway when I almost smacked directly into his chest. Not that I would have complained. He had a very nice chest.
    “Hey, Rusty.” I tried to suck in a breath between words, my fitness clearly on hiatus up until now. “I need to talk to you.”
    Even I was surprised by my bold request. There was no actual asking of anything. Just a demand for his attention. Who the hell was I?
    “I’d say fancy meeting you here but neither of us is surprised.” A smile lit up his eyes, the same ones that showed a genuine lack of shock. And if I wasn’t mistaken he actually looked glad to see me.
    “Did you know . . . I was following you?” I tried to rein in my breathing as my pulse continued to hammer under my skin. Seriously, the treadmill and I were going to be spending some quality time together in the next few weeks. The run wasn’t even that far.
    “I saw you when I was leaving the bodega. I figured I’d play a little longer, I know how much you love to lurk.” His arms folded casually across his chest as the lady behind the glass cake counter looked at us with interest. Yep, we had an audience.
    “I was just looking for the right time. I didn’t want it to be creepy.” I tried unsuccessfully to sound un-creepy, the effort making it worse.
    “Ah, babe, that’s so sweet. You know I kinda dig creepy. Feeds into my god complex. So unless the shadow-jumping is done with a machete I’m totally cool with it.” He motioned toward the door and with a nod of my head, I followed him back out onto the street. Bakery lady not impressed by our lack-of-purchase exit.
    “Okay. I’m going to pretend like that statement wasn’t just completely nuts, and you basically gave me carte blanche to stalk you.” Because we both knew that could be dangerous. Look at what I’d done without his permission. Clearly I couldn’t be trusted.
    “I can put it in writing if you feel more comfortable. I am a man of my word.” Another smile and now I was having trouble breathing for an entirely different reason.
    “No, that’s not necessary.” I took a big swallow before continuing. “But I did need something from you.”
    Asking for help was a huge thing for me. When it came to throwing up a flare or giving someone the 9-1-1, I always chickened out. I figured it was better to slowly sink with my ship than ask anyone to bail me out. Pride, signs of weakness—whatever the reason was, I avoided it like a department store on Black Friday. Yet, there I was. My hand reaching out just hoping another would extend. Petrified wasn’t even the half of it.
    “Sure, what did you need?” He answered with zero hesitation.
    “You’re just going to offer, just like that? What if I said I needed a kidney?”
    I’d expected my request for help to be met with some resistance or at the very least hesitation. Maybe even a healthy dose of skeptical reservation. What I got from the man in front of me was none of those things. Just an easy, sure, what did you need. Like no matter what I’d ask would be no big deal.
    “Well, I’d hope if you were angling for body parts you’d at least come and see my band. Oh, and you’d have to wear one of our band shirts. Possibly with the words, Rusty is the greatest guitarist of all time , on the front. I figure that’s a fair trade.” He was no less amused than when we’d started the conversation. Oh, and somehow I’d secured the donation of one of his kidneys.
    “You would give someone a kidney just like that?”
    “If they needed it and they weren’t an asshole. I