The blankets were tangled about my legs, speaking of another fretful night, a night that I’d anticipated ending with me having at least one goddamn orgasm after which Cruz made me hug him, and instead it was the beginning of a living nightmare.
I’d killed a man.
Another one.
And I felt nothing for him.
Nothing at all.
No guilt or shame, at the moment. I wasn’t even feeling relieved like I had yesterday.
I guessed, in all honesty, I was just numb.
Rolling my head on the pillow, I winced when I saw the time was eleven. I’d have to be up soon, and while the shop always opened late on Thursday’s, the prospect of putting on a blank mask and pretending nothing had happened was an annoying one.
I clambered to my feet, rolling out of bed because I was just getting more and more maudlin as I trudged over to my bedroom window to peer out at the street.
I liked Verona. It wasn’t as incestuous as West Orange, somehow. Not as rich, not as well situated, but great for me. Close to my brothers when one of their asses wasn’t in prison, and even then, Caleb wasn’t far away, I could visit as I chose, and it had a small-town vibe. I’d missed that when I was in Nawlins, and that was pretty much why I’d set up shop here. For the vibe. It fit me. Fit where I was in my life right now.
With the memory of last night at the forefront of my mind, I had to wonder if I was as much of a crazy person as my brother because David’s death didn’t taint things for me like I’d imagined it would.
I wasn’t feeling like I needed to run away.
If anything, and maybe the relief was starting to bleed through me now I wasn’t groggy with sleep, but I felt like there was a lighter weight on my shoulders.
No more worrying about him catching me with other guys.
No more heavy breathing down the line when he didn’t like something I was doing, but was too chicken shit to confront me over it. Of course, the first time he’d confronted me, I’d hurled a pair of scissors at him, so maybe there was something to the whole heavy-breathing thing.
No more him being aware of every single item in the tattoo parlor—which, with my sloppy ass down there, I could admit might be a pain.
And no more wondering sick things.
I mean, I had no proof, but I’d be stupid not to think about it, wouldn’t I?
He was sneaky, and it wouldn’t be the first time he made it into one of my locked apartments.
Had he put cameras up here?
Had he seen me rushing from the bathroom into the kitchen bare-assed naked because I’d forgotten to pull a towel out of the dryer?
Had he watched me watch a movie?
Seen me cry into my pillow before I fell into an exhausted sleep?
Had he seen what Cruz asked of me?
That last question resonated.
It’d explain why he thought he had to be the big man all of a sudden. He’d be thinking he could be my white knight, never imagining that the things Cruz wanted me to do were what I needed to feel real.
For reality to remain firmly in my grasp for the first time in forever.
Cruz and I had been the trigger.
Which meant he did have video-recording equipment up here. Just like I’d accused him of. Just like I knew he did at the Sinners’ compound.
Shuddering with revulsion at the thought, I didn’t bother glancing around the place, wondering if there were glass eyes watching me. Instead, I stared sightlessly down at the street, well, I did until a small face cropped up in my line of view. I didn't know Storm's daughter, like, at all, but seeing her smile Storm’s cheeky smile, I recognized it was Cyan from that alone.
Curious as to why she was out of school, I trained my gaze on her, trying to see if she was with friends. It was eleven on a school day, for fuck's sake. That had to mean she was cutting class, which made me feel like the responsible person in the room because I knew she shouldn't be doing that.
Yeah, yeah, who was I to judge? I'd just murdered someone and here I was, worrying about Cyan's school record, but ya know, priorities.
Storm's daughter meant a damn sight more to me than David did, so I was concerned.
Expecting to see a gaggle of girls wandering down the main street, everything inside me froze when I saw her slip her hand into a man's clasp.
Especially when that man turned around and I didn't recognize him.
It'd be creepy enough as it was if she'd been with a Sinner, but at least they were family. Not that family was much protection sometimes, but everyone knew to fear Storm.
I mean, he came across as one of the most mild-mannered brothers, the admin asshole who could rule over a kingdom he pushed pens so hard, but that didn't mean he wasn't deadly with a knife. I wouldn't want to get in his face over scratching his goddamn bike, never mind laying a hand, be it in violence or sexually, against his baby girl.
And shit, she was a baby too.
A little older than me when I’d been targeted, but still so fucking young nonetheless.
I watched as they stopped, her tugging on his hand in a way that was playful as she stood outside the ice cream parlor.
Her lack of fear indicated so much, but that didn't make any of it right.
Who the fuck was he?
Far as I remembered from Storm's wedding ceremony, Keira had been an only child, and her parents hadn't shown up because they were prudish pricks who were against the marriage. There'd been no family there that day, none save for Sinners, so that meant he was a stranger.
Well, to me, not to Cyan though, evidently.
I didn't even bother tugging on pants or a sweater, just grabbed some panties then shoved my feet into my Converse, and on the way out of the door, dragged on a coat from the closet that was way too hot for the season, but I didn't give a damn. It just needed to cover my ass.
As I dashed out, I hurried down the stairs, almost falling as I did so. Grumbling to myself, I struggled with the lock next, then managed to burst through the front door. Leaving it open, uncaring what the fuck happened to my shop, I ran down the block to the ice cream parlor, terrified that, by now, they'd have left already.
But fortune was on my side.
They were there, sitting in the window, looking almost like father and child with the way he was staring down at her with an adoration that couldn't be feigned, and the way she looked up at him with stars in her eyes.
There was so much wrong with the tableau that, for a second, I wondered if Keira had brought another man into her life. Was this guy a boyfriend? But, surely not. She was staying at the clubhouse, so why would a man who loved Keira's daughter so much let her live on a bikers’ compound? I doubted it.
With a million things running through my mind, I started to dash inside. A second before I did, I smoothed a hand over my hair, and tried to calm myself down.
There had to be an explanation. It was only my past that was making me see shadows at high noon.
So, I sucked in a calming breath and then, as I walked through the door, Cyan's eyes collided with mine, they widened, then she ducked her head and quickly looked away.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Panic started to whirl out of control inside me, but I forced it down, forced myself to smile as I wandered over to them both.
"Cyan, is that you?"
Both the stranger and the little girl, because that was exactly what she fucking was, tensed up.
Bringing Cyan to the next town over was dumb, but if he was grooming her, it'd make sense. What better way than shopping and ice cream to get a child on your side?
Especially one who was messed up over her mom and dad's break up, and the fact that her father had just moved hundreds of miles away—she was perfect prey for a predator.
And when I looked at the guy, whose face was as soft as David's, who looked as goddamn mild-mannered as he had last night, I saw, deep in his eyes, the truth.
Just like I'd seen in Kevin's goddamn eyes.
Struggling to hide my disgust, I murmured, "Cyan, baby, what the heck are you doing out of school?"
“Indy, oh, nothing. I just have a doctor's appointment."
"You do, huh? Where's your momma? Is she parking the car?"
Cyan licked her lips as her shoulders started to bunch up around her ears. "She's working at the diner. Her shift doesn't finish until nine tonight."
I heard the resentment there, but I ignored it, and instead, turned to the man. While it creeped me the hell out to hold out my hand, I had to play nice.
"Indy. I'm a friend of Cyan's father." I smiled at him. "I don't think we've met."
Unease slipped into his mask, but he returned my smile with a pleasant one of his own. "I'm Martin. Keira asked me to help out, so help out I am."
"Oh?" I tipped my head to the side. "You're friends?"
Cyan burst in, "Yeah, Indy, we're friends."
Her rebellious tone had me frowning at her, but I just said, “I don't think your daddy would like to hear you talking to one of his friends like that, do you?”
Her mouth turned mutinous. "Don't care what Dad wants or doesn't want," she snapped, and her hand reached for the guy's. Only, he dumped it like it was as hot as burning coal.
Dismay graced the small features, followed by acute distress, and sensing that this situation was derailing, I murmured, "This is actually good timing, Cyan, because I have a gift for you."
She scowled at me. "You do?"
I knew why she was confused. I barely knew her, had never talked to her, so why the hell would I have a gift for her?
"I do. But it's in my store." I cut Martin a look. "I'll make sure she gets home safely."
He started to protest, but then he said, "Okay, I'm sure that'll be fine. I'll check in with Keira later—"
I'd just bet he fucking would. The liar. The stench of the untruth polluted the air around us.
I reached out for Cyan's hand and murmured, "Come on, honey."
She shot Martin a look, but he was shooing her away with a smile that held the tinge of a warning—something I remembered too well from my own past. The tenderness that was couched in a selfish desire. The pervasive command that told a small child they would get what they wanted, no matter if the kid was scared or unhappy—their wants counted for nothing in this dynamic.
The past choked me, shadows flooding me to the point where I could have blacked out, but knowing I had to keep her safe, had to protect her like no one had protected me, I tugged her into moving, and when we reached the counter, Pearl, the server, called out, "Indy, I've got her ice cream here."
I paused, waited for Pearl to pass Cyan her treat, then tugged her out onto the street.
As the ice cream started dripping down her hand, I got the feeling that today hadn't turned out how she'd expected.
Nor had it for Martin.
Brightly, I asked, "Where did your mom meet Martin?"
Cyan scuffed her toe into the ground, and that goddamn ice cream carried on dripping down her hand. Splat. Splat. Splat. We left a trail of breadcrumbs back to my store of molten orange sherbet.
"He's a volunteer with the gymnastics' team at school."
My throat felt tight. "Huh. I didn't realize you were into gymnastics."
"Well, no, you wouldn't know that, would you? You don't know me."
And that begged the question why she'd come with me, why Martin had allowed her to go, if they were supposed to be together. If they weren't trying to hide something.
When we made it back to my store, I saw Cruz was waiting there, scowling at me, but his scowl dispersed when he stared down at Cyan's wan face.
I flared my eyes, trying to get him to back off, and he seemed to get it because he retreated to the backroom without Cyan catching notice of him.
As I locked the door behind me, pocketing the key so that she couldn't run off, I murmured, "Take a seat. You need to eat that ice cream or more of it will be on you rather than in you."
She flung herself down on the sofa and did as I asked. No enjoyment to it, just mechanical in motion like she wanted to obey to, once again, quell my suspicions.
Unfortunately for her, my suspicions were at an all-time high, mostly because I knew from what Stone had told me that Cyan had been acting up like mad, giving her mom a lot of shit. But also because of my past.
She was a prime target for someone like Kevin. I could almost stamp his face onto Martin's features.
Animals all looked the same.
I had a small table over in the corner with a Keurig on there and some cups along with a tray of pods, and desperately in need of the caffeine and the sugar, I started brewing a cup before I murmured, "Martin looked kind."
Cyan peeped a look at me before she muttered, "He is."
"Were you really going to the doctor’s office?" I asked, throwing the question over my shoulder.
"Of course. I said I was, didn't I?"
“You did, but girls lie." I winked at her. "You looked like you had a fun day ahead of you, not an appointment to get a shot."
Her mouth tightened. "It was supposed to be fun. We were going to go to the park next."
"You were, huh? So the doctor's was a lie?"
“Maybe."
"I'm not sure your mom would be happy to think of you cutting school to hang out with your friends, Cyan, do you?"
She shrugged. "Mom doesn't care about me. All she cares about is work."
I snorted at that bullshit, because no woman left a Sinner like Storm without reason. And that reason? Self-respect and the need to imbue it into her daughter.
As Storm's woman, Keira wouldn't have had to work a fucking day in her life. Yet, here she was, slogging away at the diner, working hard for little pay, and barely any gratitude from her kid.
My reaction had Cyan scowling. "Are you laughing at me?"
"You bet your ass I am."
"Why?" she snapped, her eyes flaring wide with agitation. "You have no right to laugh at me."
"I have every right, because you just proved to me how young you are because no one, no one, loves working at a damn diner more than they love their daughter. She isn't exactly saving lives, is she? Ain't finding a cure for cancer in the bottom of a pot of coffee... what on earth made you think she cares more about her shitty job than you?"
Tiny shoulders hunched. "She's never around anymore."
"Probably because she's working hard to put food on the table."
"Dad sends money."
"Yeah? Does he also send self-respect?"
That had her peering at me, her eyes round. "What does that mean?"
The Keurig hissed and spat as coffee sputtered from the spout, and I kept my attention on it, rather than her, as I asked, "You know when you ace a test, and it feels good?"
"Yeah."
"If you'd cheated, if someone else had done the hard work, would it feel as good?"
"N-No."
"That's self-respect. Your mom can take your dad's money, or she can work hard to show you that you don't need a man to put food in your belly.
"Sure, it sucks that she isn't seeing you as much, and I'm sure that hurts her as well. But I bet it hurts her more that you're so upset with her when all she's trying to do is prove to you that she's worth more than just the pennies your father lays in her hand.
"What's she supposed to do with the rest of her life? Just let him keep on providing for you both?"
"At least I'd see her," was Cyan's grumbled retort.
"You could go to the diner, you know? You could sit there, it's kind of what you do in a diner. You could do your homework there, and when she's between orders, she could talk to you then."
"It isn't the same."
"Why? Because you don't get all her focus? Grow up, Cyan," I said with a snicker. "You don't even want her full attention, because if you did, then I doubt you'd have been able to skip school to hang out with Martin."
I turned around just in time to see her cheeks burn a bright red. "He's my fri
end. He's interested in me."
"Yeah? I'm interested in you too. Tell me, what do you and he do together?"
"We just hang out."
I hummed. "That all?" I raised my coffee to my lips and took a sip even though it was scalding hot. Then, deciding to throw whisky onto the flames, I asked, "Does he kiss you? It feels nice when a man kisses you on the lips, doesn't it?"
Eyes widening, she sputtered, "He doesn't do anything like that!"
"No? What do you do then? Does he hold your hand?" I knew he did. I'd seen that on the street.
"No," was the belligerent retort, which meant I couldn't believe a fucking word she said.
At least I could see she had a tell. The more mutinous she was, the closer I was to the truth.
I just hummed. "When I was younger than you, I had someone who showed me a lot of attention. It feels nice, doesn't it?" The lie burned inside me like acid tearing into my organs. "It's strange at first, because, when I was that young, I used to think all boys had cooties, but I liked the way he treated me like I was so grown up.” I cast her a look. "Is that how Martin makes you feel?"
She twisted her head to the side, her mouth pursed into a flat line, and I knew I'd lost her.
I didn't say another word, just strode over to the phone, picked it up and placed it to my ear.
"Who are you calling?" she demanded, her voice morphing into a squeak.
"Your mom. So she can come and pick you up. I have an appointment soon."
"Y-You said you'd take me home. That's why Ma-Martin let me leave."
Well, wasn't that an interesting turn of phrase?
Why Martin let her leave.
I turned it over in my head, then said, "Well, I need to tell her how upset you are. She needs to know so she can make things better."
"I-It's okay. She doesn't need to know. You're right. She's working hard to make sure I have self-respect—”
“What does he do with you, Cyan?" I asked, sliding the question in with all the finesse of a batter sliding into base feet first.
"Nothing," she rasped. "Nothing." And just when I thought she wasn't going to tell me anything, she tacked on, “I mean, not yet, anyway.”
And my heart both soared and sank.
Cruz : A Dark MC Romance (A Dark and Dirty Sinners’ MC Book 5) Page 19