Текст книги "Burning Ember"
Автор книги: Darby Briar
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 33 страниц)
There is good that comes from every trial we face. If you look hard enough at the wreckage, you can see how the debris shaped you.
MAVERICK
I’m sitting at the same table drinking with Taz and Griz, lost in my own thoughts. Staring at the amber liquid, seeking answers it simply won’t give.
Since last night, Doll’s been awkward around me. At first, I thought it was because of our near kiss. Or maybe she’s waiting to be reprimanded for calling me an asshole. Then I came closer to watch her kick everyone’s ass at poker and her entire body tensed. She suddenly lost all sense of concentration. Stopped paying attention to the game, how the others were playing, and started losing.
Before I came over, she’d been winning like the card shark she is. Focused. Cunning. Smart. More facets of her that caught me completely off guard, and if I was being truthful, turned me the fuck on.
Dolled up and sexy, she sat there drinking her girly-fucking-drink and stealing money from some of the toughest men I know. A vet and ex-mercenary. Navy seal. The club’s enforcer and an ex-con. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her, even if I wanted to.
The guys taunted her, but she didn’t bat an eyelash, not even when their quips turned sexual. She stayed levelheaded, which also shocked the shit out of me. For some reason, I was the only one she lost her temper with.
My body, which stopped listening to my brain since the moment I met her, wanted her. Wanted inside her. Dirty fucking images of me bending her over the table ran rampant through my mind.
The lines I’ve drawn for myself when it comes to her are disappearing. I nearly kissed her last night. If Jade hadn’t interrupted us, I would have. And I wouldn’t have stopped there. She would’ve been wrapped up in my arms.
It didn’t escape my notice that our bodies fit perfectly together like a lock and key.
On the tail of that thought is the memory of her reaction to seeing Jade tied to my bed. She’d been terrified, in full-blown panic mode, clawing at me to get out of my room. You’d think I was trying to push her off a cliff, not making her face a bed with a naked woman tied to it. Then as if by magic, she calmed to my touch, softened in my arms and I’ll be fuckin’ damned if my voice didn’t have the power to tame the fire and fear in her eyes. I asked for her trust and she handed it over. Handed it right the fuck over. Even after all the shit that I’d dealt her way over the last few days. The result—a surge of protectiveness and lust barreled through me. My body and my brain aligned to want only one thing . . . her.
Just her.
Under me.
On top of me.
Any way I could get her.
But Jade’s shrieking put an end to whatever had been about to happen.
And I spent the rest of the night trying to get my body and mind to understand that Doll wasn’t for me, and wondering what in the hell she had been through that would make her react the way she did to seeing Jade. She claimed she was claustrophobic. And yeah, maybe, that explained Dozer’s door being left open, and her feeling cagey, but something told me this was different.
Scars.
She had more than the ones on her wrists. Scars that run deeper, like mine. Scars underneath her gorgeous skin and sea blue eyes. And little by little, they’re swimming to the surface for me to see.
Like the other day when Bodie had hold of her. Whatever had taken place, it wasn’t a game to her. The anxiety radiating through her eyes told me as much.
Fuck! Mav . . . you’re doing it again. . . .
You can’t keep letting her infiltrate and hijack your mind.
I force myself to shut down the part of me that gives a fuck about her. The part that wants to know every goddamn thing about her.
But it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, because deep down some baser part of me craves her. Craves her like I’ve never craved anyone, not even Dana.
The simple truth. And the only thing that has the power to help me get her off my mind. Is the fact that she’s not for me.
She’s for Edge. And I’ve already fucked my best friend over once. I’ll be damned if I’m doing it a second time.
Upending the bottle, I pour the last of the JD into my glass. I’m feeling good and trashed, but that little bit of liquid euphoria is calling my name.
Name . . . Name . . . Name . . .
I don’t even know her name.
It could be anything. Samantha. Alison. Tammy. I shake my head. Nah, she doesn’t look like a Tammy. Maybe a Tracy.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’ll make her tell me her name. Right after I find out why the fuck she’s scared of me.
“Mav?” Someone waves a hand in front of my face. “Mav?”
“What?” My gaze slowly travels up. I take in the woman’s nice tits, cleavage, and mocha skin. I flinch when my eyes land on her brown irises. I hate fuckin’ brown eyes. Dana had brown eyes. It takes me a second to recognize the girl in front of me.
“I don’t know if I should say anything.” The words spill from her mouth. “It’s about . . . Pumpkin. Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“S-say what? What about her?”
Her eyes widen. “Uh . . . nothin’. Maybe when you’re not so . . .”
She tries to leave and I grab her shoulder. “Lita . . . Lo, whatever-in-the-fuck your name is, you got somethin’ to say, speak your peace.”
“You’re really off your face, Mav, and I don’t want to stir shit up.” I glare and her resistance falls to the wayside. She eyes me hesitantly, takes a deep breath, and starts talking. “Earlier, I was in the bathroom. In the stall next to me, someone was snortin’. Snortin’ coke.”
Ice skates through my veins. I jump from my chair. “The fuck? Pumpkin?”
Lita grabs my arm. I rip it from her grip. She hurries to say, “I tried sticking around to see who it was for sure, but I didn’t want one of the guys ripping my head off for being gone too long. So I kept my eye on the door.”
“And you saw her come out? Just her?” She nods. “You’re fuckin’ sure?” I snarl.
“She’s the only one I saw come out.”
Piece by piece I puzzle together Doll’s behavior tonight. I don’t want to believe it. But she was jittery as fuck. Sweating. Wouldn’t look at me. Nervous as hell. Scared. Because she fuckin’ knew the rules and broke them!
She waited until we all fuckin’ trusted her.
She lied! Right. To. My. Fuckin’. Face.
I grab the empty bottle in front of me and hurl it through the air, shattering the mirror behind Lita. Shards of glass tumble to the floor. I spin around. The remaining people left in the room are eyeing me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
My past circulates. Five fuckin’ years ago, they looked at me the same way. Not only on the day Dana left me, but the day I found her too.
A muffled ringing wakes me. Groaning, I check my alarm and see it’s almost three A.M. I’m still drunk from the liquor I drowned myself in a few hours ago. Pulling my cell from beneath my pillow, I see an incoming call from a restricted number. My skin prickles. Hope rockets like a shooting star through my torso. I answer, praying like hell it’s Dana. Maybe she’s calling from a payphone or a friend’s cell. Please God, let it fuckin’ be her.
“Yeah.”
“You the guy lookin’ for the redhead?”
Instantly, I’m sober and wide awake. I sit straight up in the bed and wipe the sleep from my eyes. “Who’s this?”
Silence greets me and a shot of panic flares inside my chest. “Hello? You there?”
“You still offerin’ a reward? If so, I got an address for ya. But we meet first. I want the money up front.”
Every limb in my body strings tight. I pull in a shaking breath. I grip the sheet and throw it off me, swing my legs over the side of the bed. “No problem. Tell me where she is and you’ll get your money.”
“No. We meet. I get paid. Then I give you the address.”
I start yanking on my jeans. “Fine! WHERE?” I bark.
Turns out the guy’s a lowlife drug dealer from Albuquerque. Some guy I showed Dana’s picture to about two weeks ago. When we meet up, Edge threatens the guy and I end up giving him half of the promised reward now, and he’ll wait for the rest, but only if and when I find her. If she is, in fact, where he says she is.
The address he gives me is on the Westside, a shithole apartment complex. It’s December, and for New Mexico, it’s bitter and chilly as fuck out.
J-twenty-two is the apartment number. As I near it, I hear “Last Resort” by Papa Roach coming from behind the door. Dana always plays that song when she’s feeling particularly low. If those two things aren’t the mother of all bad omens then I don’t know what is. The lyrics slice like razor blades crisscrossing over my heart, cutting deeper as each word penetrates.
For thirty-seven days, I’ve been a dead man walking. My sanity hanging by a thread. A thread that’s been thinned with each passing day. I can’t eat. Can’t sleep. Can’t think of anything but finding her. I’ve gone from bar to bar. Searched every goddamn dive and drug house. Trolled central. Cap even promised a marker to the 13 Ds if they helped us find her. We bled every one of our contacts dry and they in turn bled theirs.
Daily, I concocted scenarios in my head. Where she was. What was happening to her. Maybe she hadn’t left me. Maybe she’d been taken. Maybe she was being held somewhere by someone who had a beef with the club. Maybe she’d checked herself into rehab. But fuck. I’d checked all of those too.
Hearing the song, and seeing the apartment number that eerily reminds me of my tattoo, is all it takes for me to know . . . know that today is the last day I search for her. I glance back to Cap. We lock eyes. I see he knows it too. My life will forever be changed after this day.
It takes two kicks to bust the door in. What I see when the door opens has my entire body shaking with rage. Naked bodies. Drugs. A fuckin’ brick of coke, only half of it left, and lines cut on a glass table waiting to be snorted. The place fuckin’ reeks of reefer, sex, old food, and sweat. The boys flood in behind me. They easily subdue the two men and a whore who starts screaming at us to get the fuck out.
With ice in my veins, I turn over passed out junkies and inspect each one. The skin and hair color aren’t familiar, but I still examined every female. She could have tanned, or died her red hair back to its natural color or something else.
The junkies grumble and moan as I move them. I slap a few awake and yell questions at them, like where’s Dana? Is she here? Have you seen her? A redhead? A goddamn white skinned redhead . . . have you seen her?
But they’re useless. Zoned out. Lifeless zombies. The lot of ’em.
My heart soars when I realize I’ve searched everyone and she’s not here.
Cap snatches up the brick and orders D to flush the shit. Cap’s not a fan of drugs either. He lost his only blood brother to heroine. It’s the why behind him stepping down as VP of the Greenbacks, and him and Griz starting the HOCs. He was done smuggling that shit into our borders for the cartel. He’d already lost more brothers as a Greenback dealing drugs, than he ever lost in Nam, and w hen he couldn’t convince Pappy to steer the club to a new course, he left. And Griz left with him.
“Mav.” Goose calls my name from down the hallway and the sick feeling permanently residing in my gut crashes up like a tidal wave against the walls of my stomach. I enter the hallway. Goose stops me by putting his hand on my shoulder. His eyes close and he slowly shakes his head. “I’m sorry, brother.” He squeezes my shoulder hard.
My body is a bomb . . . ticking . . . fucking . . . ticking.
My skin itches like it wants to detach and float away.
A barbwire coils around my heart, becomes hot, like it’s been lying in the pits of hell and it shreds my heart in as many seconds as it takes for me to understand what his apology means. His pain is my pain. Mine . . . his. Every muscle in my face constricts and my teeth crack from the force I’m using to hold it together. I will not let the moisture rising behind my eyes push forward. . . .
She’s in the third room on the right. And she’s not alone. Some dark-skinned fat fuck is lying naked beside her. She’s on the bed, passed out, wearing only a dirty midriff. Everything else is visible. Her red hair has blonde roots, and the ends are almost crimson with sweat and grease. She’s thin. Too thin. Her stomach is too flat. Where there should be a baby bump, there’s not one. And I know. Know what she’s done whether intentional or not.
It’s gone. She’s gone. She never even gave her a chance.
Everything I wanted. Everything I’d planned for us burns to ashes before my eyes.
I pull out my piece from its holster. Arms—it feels like a million of them—grab at me and there’s a shit ton of shouting. My brothers drag me from the room as I do my best to fight while at the same time I try to get a clear shot at her. I never do.
Someone needs to pay though.
Cap must recognize my need for vengeance because he throws a man to his knees before me and mouths two words. “The dealer.” The arms around me disappear as I leap forward gun in hand.
Shooting him would be too quick. Too painless. Too easy. So I use the butt of the gun to beat his face into a puddle of flesh, blood, and broken bones.
I don’t regret killing the dealer. What I regret from that night is not taking the life of the woman who took the life of my child from me.
She was always weak. I knew it from the day we met. But I still gave her something precious to carry. To protect. I gave her my trust too. I believed her when she promised to stay clean and that she’d do the right thing.
But just like Doll, she lied to my fucking face.
I kick once, and Dozer’s door flies back and hits the wall. I don’t have my gun, but I have my knife. I pull it from its sheath as I bear down on her. She’s in the middle of the bed, her red hair fanned out behind her. Her eyes are wide. She’s propped up on her elbows and when her eyes lock with mine, her hand comes up to ward me off as she scrambles backward.
I pin her to the bed. Straddle her legs, hold down her arms with one hand above her head, and I press my blade into her neck.
“Mav, stop!” she screams. Her clear blue-green eyes flood with fear.
I snarl, “You fuckin’ swore you weren’t a junkie.” I punctuate each word by inching the blade deeper into her skin. “Said you were clean. But you were takin’ a hit when you went to the bathroom, not cleanin’ shit up. You lied to us. Lied to me.”
“No! I didn’t.”
“I can’t fuckin’ believe it. You’re just like her.”
“I’m not,” she whispers. Then again louder. “I’m not like Dana. You’ve been drinkin’ and you’re not—”
“She saw you!”
“Who?”
“Lita saw you snortin’ coke in the bathroom!”
She struggles under my grip and she snaps, “Look at me!” A desperate demand. “Do I look like I’m high? I mean it. Really look at me and this time see me and not her.”
“I’m looking at you!” I growl.
“Are you? Really? Because I didn’t lie to you. And I’m sick of you looking at me and seeing me for something I’m not. I’m not a junkie or a liar or your ex.” She raises her head up and gets closer to my face. By doing so, she digs the knife deeper into her neck and something inside me snaps as I watch blood droplets slide down her skin.
The light from the doorway mixes with the moonlight, both are illuminating her face and reflecting off her clear, and undilated eyes.
As it all starts to sink it, I grate out, “Lita said you were the only one she saw exit the bathroom after that.”
“Well, then she didn’t see the girl come out as I went in, did she? The one who was wiping her goddamn nose!” More blood leaks down her neck and onto the white sheet below her. “Get off me!”
I study her. She was asleep before I came in. Something she wouldn’t be if she was high on coke. “Why were you nervous then? Why throw the game and leave? Why were you in the bathroom so long?”
“Because I was cleaning! And I thought you’d kick me out for hustling and stealing their money!”
My shoulders sag. Slowly I pull the knife away from her throat.
“You aren’t high?”
“No,” she whispers.
I drop the knife to the bed. Let go of her wrists. Using both hands, I grip the sides of her face as I stare at her. My thumbs rub up across her cheekbones. I didn’t want to believe it. And I can see the truth in her eyes. Then she pinches her eyes closed and her pain tears me in fucking two. The ache in my chest burns white hot.
I’ve fucked up. I’m fucked up. In all the ways that matter.
“Doll?”
Her eyes slowly open. She’s so beautiful lying there. A beautiful mess. Her eyes, her lips, her freckles. Her blood and her hair such a contrast to the white sheet behind her.
“Seein’ you and rememberin’ her . . . it’s poisoning me.”
“I know. But I didn’t hurt you, so stop taking the pain she caused you out on me.” She looks away. Won’t meet my eyes. Tears build and fall down the sides of her face. I can’t describe the pain I feel inside. All I know is it fucking burns me to my core. “I wanted to help you . . . at first,” she says solemnly. “But now, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.”
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer.
I hear the thunder of large boots coming door the hall, more than one set. A shadow falls over us.
“The fuck! Get him off her.” Hands grip me and yank me away from her. I don’t fight them this time. Because this isn’t Dana. And I don’t want to hurt the woman lying in that bed more than I already have.
I’m dragged out of the room and thrown against the wall. I hear Griz say, “You okay? Here, hold this to your neck. Stop the bleedin’ and I’ll go get the first aid kit.”
More brothers flood into the hall.
“What the fuck have you done?” Dozer growls when he sees me. Then he’s in front of me and landing a solid punch to my stomach that bends me in fucking half. He doesn’t stop there. A half dozen hits rain down on me, and I take every single one without fighting back. The pain ricochets through me, but it’s nothing compared to the white bomb exploding inside my chest. I welcome it with open arms. The physical and the mental pain blend together to create a symphony of agony inside me. He gets a few more hits in, before my brothers grab him and haul him back.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? You lost your fuckin’ mind? What’d I say? I said stay the fuck away from her!” he hollers at me.
Grinder and Taz wrestle Dozer and with a joint effort succeed in getting him a few feet down the hallway and then push him into a room and shut the door.
Using the wall as leverage, I get to my feet.
Griz comes out of Dozer’s room. Rage is firing in his eyes.
I’ve seen this side of Griz twice in the ten years I’ve known him, once when Cap was shot and the other when some asshole nearly killed three of us because he changed lanes without looking. At this moment, he wants to kill me. If I want to stay breathing, I need to get the fuck out of his way. But I’m not sure if I want to stay breathing. I’m not sure I deserve to. There’s a special place in hell for assholes who abuse women. And part of me wants Griz to send me there.
The punch comes fast and slams into my right jaw. Fire ignites through my face. I hiss, “Fuck,” as black spots flutter in my vision.
“Blood for blood. She bleeds—you bleed. And maybe with enough hits to that thick fuckin’ skull of yours, you’ll start seein’ things more clearly.” He rubs his knuckles. “I don’t care what Lita says—it wasn’t her.”
“I know,” I say as I spit and then use the back of my hand to wipe the blood from my lips.
“It’s ’bout time you open your eyes and stop seein’ only what you want to see. Dana was a leech. A wiltin’ black rose. Fightin’ to hold off the reaper. Pumpkin’s a sweet fuckin’ girl who gives more than she takes. She’s just lookin’ for a place to land where someone will give a fuck about her. She’s fightin’ to survive. Give her a goddamn chance to.”
Then he walks away.
EMBER
I sit on the edge of the bed, using Dozer’s bed sheet to staunch the bleeding, until Griz returns with the first aid kit. I’m still shaking. My heart’s attempting to take flight, like a nest of dragonflies trying to break free from my chest.
What am I still doing here? I’m gambling with my life, playing a game I can’t win. It’s time to fold. Walk away.
I groan and close my eyes. This is not your secret garden. This is a dead end.
I thought Warner would be the death of me. It’s why I fought so hard to escape the handcuffs he kept me in while he was out of the house. His sadist tendencies had been escalating, and I knew if I didn’t get away, he’d take the only thing I had left. My life.
Mav, in his drunken haze, nearly finished the job for him. Because all he sees is his past. His own pain. His own misery. Of the two personalities waging a war inside him—the old him is losing. The man Dana created when she left—is winning.
I scramble up and go to the closet, dropping the sheet in the process. I find a gym bag. I shove all the clothes Lily stole and bought for me into the bag. I take the cash I’ve earned, and bend down to push it into my sock before slipping my tennis shoes on. All the while, I’m mentally planning my escape.
I hear the door swing open and my heart lodges in my throat. A few seconds later, Griz stands in the closet doorway. His eyes fall on the bag in my hands. “Where you goin’, sweetheart?”
“Away.”
He approaches me cautiously.
I flinch and draw back.
“Shhh . . . I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he says in a placating tone. He holds up his hands and moves steadily closer. “Just let me patch you up. I got somethin’ to say. Hear me out before you go doin’ what I think you’re gonna do.” He reaches forward and takes the bag from my hand. “If you wanna leave after I’ve said my piece, you go right ahead. You got every right to do that.”
He walks back into the room.
I don’t know how much time passes, but it’s at least ten minutes before I cautiously exit the closet. Griz sits at the end of the bed with my bag by his foot on the floor. He pats the spot next to him. “C’mon, let me take a look at that slice on your neck.”
I sit and say, “It won’t change anything.”
He turns toward me, opens the first aid kit, and searches through it, pulling out items and placing them on the bed. “What’s that?”
“Whatever it is you’re going to say, it won’t change anything.”
“Maybe it won’t. But this old man has some skills with words. And you gotta get a bandage on that neck anyhow. So, how about instead of starin’ at this sourpuss face while I patch you up, I’ll talk and you can listen to my sexy voice instead.” The skin near his eyes crinkles.
Against my will, I feel a small tug on my heartstrings.
His movements are slow and careful. He holds the cloth with medicine on it up for me to see for a moment before he touches me. Then he pinches my chin and gradually lifts it to turn my head.
“Motherfucker is gonna get another taste of my fist,” he mutters under his breath. “It’s not deep, but it might scar.” I hiss, because the cut burns as he disinfects it. He grumbles more threats and inspects the damage more closely. Then he dabs the cut with something that makes it sting yet again.
I let out a small gasp of air. “I thought you were going to distract me with your sexy voice?”
He chuckles.
“I know what you’re thinkin’, sugar. That you’re not safe, ‘cause you think he’s gonna come after you again. I’m tellin’ you now, that won’t happen. Givin’ you my word. Somethin’ that’s ironclad. Mav’s gonna change his tune, even if I have to change it for him.”
He coats the cut with some liquid using a Q-tip.
“In no time you’ve warmed up to the people here and them to you. I’ve never fuckin’ seen somethin’ like that happen so fast. You fit here, sweetheart. And you got a lot of people here that want you here, whether Mav does or not. Shit, you got grown ass men settin’ alarm clocks just so they don’t miss out on your food and your pretty face each mornin’. Every last one of ’em is gonna kick the shit out of Ricky Boy if you disappear on us. You’ll be signin’ his death warrant.”
He doesn’t really mean that, right? My chest is tight with emotion as his words funnel through me.
“Are you trying to guilt me into staying?”
He points at himself. “Me?” The side of his mouth curls up. “Honey, I’ll use whatever I got in my arsenal that’ll get you to stay. My sourpuss face, my sexy voice. Well, maybe not this smokin’ body.” He full out laughs. “But you get the picture.”
He places gauze over the cut and starts taping it to my skin.
“Plus a pretty little thing like you ain’t safe out there. Not alone. Here, you got a chance. A good one. You have some friends. Lily. And you got some mean ass men lookin’ out for ya. Me. Dozer. It could be more than that. But you leave. You’re never gonna know.”
“Mav hates me, Griz. He looks for things to fault me on. He watches my every move. He twists everything I do into something ugly. And I’ve never done a goddamn thing to him. I know I look like his bitch of an ex, but can’t he see with his own eyes that we’re not the same person?”
“First of all, good for you. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss. Means this place, these people are growin’ on ya.” He winks. “And second, he’s not watchin’ you all the time to find somethin’ wrong with what you’re doin’. Mav can’t take his eyes off you, and it don’t take a genius to know why. Last thing I’m gonna say darlin’ is that you might look like her, but anyone with a pair ‘a eyes can see you’re nothin’ alike. She was weak and manipulative. Sucked him dry of every ounce of happiness he had in him. She took and took like a fuckin’ leech. Never once gave him anything back.”
“All you do is give, Pumpkin. Sooner or later he’s gonna see you for you and who you really are.”
He tilts his head looking at my neck. “I haven’t doctored someone else’s wounds since my Marine Corp days, but even with my fumblin’ fingers and two left thumbs, it’ll do ya ’til tomorrow. Do this old man a favor though. Don’t head out tonight in the dark, bleedin’ with no place to go. I won’t get a lick of sleep if you do. You sleep on it and we’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll have the doc come and check you out, stitch you up. Then you can decide what you’re gonna do. You wanna leave, then I’ll give ya a ride anywhere you wanna go.”
He stands and goes to the bathroom. I hear the water turn on. He comes back a moment later drying off his hands with a small towel.
Sleep on it. See the doctor and then go.
My voice trembles when I ask, “What’s gonna happen to Lita?”
Griz stares down at me. “You don’t worry about her. You worry about you. Why don’t you get cleaned up while I go down and get you some Tylenol?”
I do my best to clean up while he’s gone. Wet a cloth and wash the blood from my skin as much as I can. I run some of my hair through the water and then towel dry it. Afterward, I change into a different set of pajamas. Ones that don’t make me look like I’ve been a victim of the Texas Chainsaw killer.
The sheets are a mess so I pile them in the corner for now. I get in and sit against headboard while at the same time pulling the comforter over me. Griz comes back and hands me two Tylenol and a glass of water. He sits on the edge of the bed. After I take the pills, he gives me a warm smile and pats my arm.
Such a fatherly thing to do.
It strikes me that I could be looking at my father and not know it. He’s the right age. We have similar coloring, and he has green eyes.
“Griz? What’s your real name?”
He considers me for a moment. Understanding lighting up in his eyes. “Mick. Mick O’Brien.” I knew it was a one in a bazillion shot, but still the hope in my chest deflates and sadness flows through me.
He frowns for a moment. “You know his name?” he questions as if he knows why I’m asking. I nod. We’re both quite for a moment.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Can I trust him with the truth? My gut and my heart tell me yes. “My family calls me Em.”
“For Emma?”
“Ember.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “That’s a good name,” he says. “Strong name and you’re a strong girl. You keep fightin’ and you’re gonna make it. I guarantee it.”
Then pushing on his thighs, he stands. “I’m gonna let you get some rest. My door’s just two doors down on the right. Come get me if you need anything.”
He gives me one more nod and strides to the door. At the door, he opens it and then pauses before locking it and closing it behind him.
I hear him say in harsh voice, one I’ve never heard Griz use before, “What did I tell you?”
It’s Mav’s voice, thick with his accent that responds. “Chill the fuck out. I just want to apologize and make sure she’s okay.”
I hear a click. Dead air follows. “You’re really goin’ to shoot me?”
“Come any closer to this door tonight and you’re damn right I will.”
Silence follows for a minute before I hear the sound of heavy footsteps stomping away.
For the first night since coming here, I go to sleep with the door locked and the window closed because I need that little bit of barrier between me and the devil on the other side.
