He uncurls his fingers from my waist and then removes mine from his chest, placing a kiss on each palm before threading our fingers together. Leaning forward, he presses his lips against the top of my head before leading us to the door. Our hands remained joined until I’m tucked safely into the passenger seat of his Camaro, and even then I find myself not wanting to let go.
I don’t think I will ever be close enough to Dalton. That feeling, that need … it’s a bit overwhelming at times. I’ve never experienced anything like it.
I want to inhale him. To taste him on my tongue. To feel him course through my bloodstream. To consume every bit of his essence. Only then do I think my craving for him would be satisfied.
And as he slides into the seat next to me, leaving me to breathe his scent in deeply, I know my mother is right. There is no barrier, no awkwardness, no uncertainty between us. There is only this unseen magnetism that draws us to each other.
An unbreakable force that will continue its pull until we finally become one.
WITH OUR BACKS RESTING against the glass of my windshield and our outstretched legs lying along the hood of my car, I thread my fingers between Spencer’s. Our eyes remain glued to the sky as she scoots closer and nestles her face against my shoulder. I inhale contentedly, then break my forward stare to press my lips against the top of her head.
Peace and serenity settle into my chest, calming the singe of yet another day corruption and criminal activity under the reign of Silas Kincaid. As I breathe her in, I allow the citrus fragrance of her innocence to bathe the filth from my soul.
Gone is the transport of 500k worth of ice to a local meth dealer.
Disappeared is the guilt of threatening the family of Jenson Biggs, 40k deep into Silas’s debt. Now 10k.
Erased are the Glock 9mms Rat picked up for us, against Silas’s wishes, clean and freshly filed.
All that remains is the orange in the sky and the sweet scent of the angel lying next to me. Nothing else.
We watch in silence as we always do until the sun finally sets, then both breathe out a long sigh. I turn to her with a nervous smile on my face. “I have something for you. It’s not much, but I saw it and thought of you.”
Her eyes widen with excitement as an equally joyful smile spreads across her beautiful features. I reach into my pocket and pull out the item I spied just a couple of days ago, buying it as a gift for her birthday, but it turns out I really suck at surprises. Who knew?
Dangling the strand of black beads in front of her face, an unexpected rush of anxiety races through my system. I’ve never given anyone anything. Ever. I find it extremely unnerving.
Her grin broadens as she extends her hand, uncurling her fingers and exposing her palm. I lower the bracelet and watch as it coils until it’s released fully into her grasp. My eyes rise to meet hers and I swallow deeply, trying to rid the nerves constricting my throat. “It’s … uh, they’re onyx—the beads. I read that they offer protection for the person who wears them. I just…” I clear my throat. “I wanted you to be protected even when I’m not around.”
Her smile is hindered as her teeth graze her bottom lip. I fight the urge to take that pouty lip in between mine and break my stare from her mouth, bringing it back to the bracelet before meeting her sky blue eyes.
She turns to face me, the bracelet still secure in her clenched hand. “Put it on me?”
I nod and slowly uncurl her grip, allowing my touch to linger on the soft pads of her fingers with each one drawn away. She shivers in response and I breathe a light chuckle through my nose, still amazed each time I elicit those involuntary reactions from her. Once the bracelet is pinched between my fingers, she turns her wrist and waits patiently as I hook the ends together. Releasing it, I watch as it slides gracefully along the skin of her arm to land across the bones of her wrist. My hand instinctively rises and my fingers trace its traveled path, raking over the bracelet as I clench her hand in mine and press a soft kiss in the center of her palm.
Her breath shudders before she whispers, “I love it, Dalton. It’s perfect. Thank you.”
I feel my face warm with her compliment, so I break my eyes away from her to focus on the stars. After a couple of moments of peace-filled silence, I inquire, “If you were a color, what color would you be?”
Taking her eyes away from the bracelet, she giggles and twists to look at me. “What color would I be?”
I nod. “Yeah…” I stall, stunned with my need for honesty. “It’s just, sometimes I feel like a chameleon, you know? Forced to change my colors based on where I am in my life.”
I release a weighted breath. “Lately it feels as though I change them so often, I’m nothing more than a fucked-up version of an impressionist painting.”
Glancing to the side, my heart lurches as she crinkles her nose in confusion, my absolute favorite of her expressions. My eyes linger the light scattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose before once again seeking comfort in the obscurity of the night sky. “To those far away, I project a solid, recognizable image. But in reality, I’m comprised of nothing but a series of angry, incoherent brush strokes in every color imaginable. Disjointed.”
I twist my neck and pin her with my stare. “Broken.”
Her mouth dips at the corners before she turns on her side and tucks her hands under her cheek, her blue eyes filled with sincerity. “Do you think Renoir and Monet didn’t know what they were doing? That they didn’t purposely place each stroke of their paintbrush in order to create their envisioned masterpiece?”
She tightens her gaze. “You are a work of art, Dalton. Your own masterpiece, regardless if you choose to acknowledge it or not. Every experience that paints your picture is a stroke made just for you. Each one of them is essential in order for you to grow, to learn, and to teach.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “You ask me what color I would be? Well, I would be every single color I could because to me, those colors are emotions. Feelings. And life would mean absolutely nothing without the many colors that surround us. The many … experiences we live through that propel us forward into the people we are meant to become.”
My skin pricks with familiar irritation as it floods me. I try to ignore it, to push away the animosity as expectation and accusation ring loudly in my ears. I shake my head.
Not from her. I can’t.
Breathing fails me, crippled by growing fury as every single muscle in my body goes rigid. I open my mouth to tell her how much I feel. What exactly I’ve experienced—shit that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. To finally explain to her why remaining numb is so much easier than reopening the ever present scars of my past.
But before I can speak, my phone vibrates on the hood of the car, sliding down the black metal as it reverberates until it falls directly into my hand. My fingers sweep it up and as I glance down, a phone number flashes along the screen. No name, just unfamiliar numbers as they cross.
Pressing my back off the windshield, I sit up straight and debate answering, unsure if it’s Silas-related. Spencer rises along with me and her eyes fall to the screen as it vibrates again. Her brows rise expectantly when she brings her stare to meet mine, and I swallow deeply before swiping my finger across the glass.
As I bring it to my ear, every single strand of hair on my body erects, standing on end as the high-pitch wails of a child cross the line. The sounds threaten to steal me from the present, the screams all too familiar as they continue. I jump to my feet and as soon as my boots hit the ground, the yells stop, followed by the muffled sounds of panting and tiny footsteps on the move.
“Hello? Who is this?” My voice is thick when I finally speak, and the monsters from my past make their presence known when I jump in response to Spencer’s delicate touch to my shoulder.
My entire body pulsates with each rapid beat of my heart and I force myself to breathe, only to lose the ability when a familiar voice finally makes its way to my ear.
“Dalton? Can you,” sniffle, “come save me
?” Penny’s sweet voice filters through the whooshing in my ears. My fingers tighten their hold on the phone as I make my way to the driver’s side of my car. Spencer follows suit, and we both land in our seats at the same time. I turn the key already in the ignition, revving my engine.
“Where are you, Penny? I can’t come to you unless I know where you are.”
At the mention of Penny’s name, Spencer reaches down, grabs her purse, and lifts her own phone to her ear. Her hands tremble as she waits for an answer, and as much as I would like to comfort her, I can’t. Fear and anger are the only emotions I’m capable of as I throw my car in reverse, then rapidly turn the wheel, righting the direction of the car as we spin to face forward.
“I’m at home. We came back home.”
My eyes dart to Spencer. “Do you know her address?”
She shakes her head. “No, they’re not required to provide that information at the center. I have no idea—Mom! Mom, it’s Spencer…”
Her voice fades as I turn my focus back to Penny. “Penny, sweetheart, I need you to tell me your address. You know your address, right?”
“I live on East Street. I don’t know the numbers. Do you want me to go see?”
More muffled sounds filter through my phone as I turn onto Lamar Boulevard, thankful that I’m heading in the right direction. As I picture her hand on the doorknob, I shout, “No!” then soften my tone. “No, Penny. I need you to stay where you are.”
“Okay,” she answers through more sniffles.
I take a strong left onto Palm and mouth East Street to Spencer, who frantically relays the information to her mother. She nods then disconnects the call, chucking the phone into my empty cup holder. “Her mom drives an older Accord. Black. We need to look for it in the driveway. Mom’s on her way.”
I nod, then focus on the road as the East Street exit comes into view. Spencer yanks the daisy crown off her head and snags an elastic band from her purse, haphazardly throwing her hair into a ponytail as I veer right. Just as I take the exit, my heart stalls in my chest.
“I’m scared, Dalton.”
I clench my teeth and my nostrils flare as I try to leash the fury. “We’re almost there, Penny. Just stay on the line with me, sweetheart. And try to be as quiet as you can until we get there.”
A feminine shriek followed by a loud crash and a soft whimper from Penny results in my foot hitting the floor. We pick up speed, swerving in and out of traffic until we take a left onto East Street. I slow the car, glancing to the left and right as I continue to drive.
“There!” Spencer shouts, bounding upward in her seat. “There! I see it!” Her finger points off to the right. As soon as I see the Accord, I pick up speed and don’t stop until we fly into their driveway, using the black Harley to absorb the full impact of my bumper. It ricochets off the garage door, then falls on its side, and I grin internally because I know without a doubt the now crumpled piece of machinery was that fucker’s pride and joy.
Just as my door flies open, Spencer’s fingers wrap around my arm. “No. Mom said to wait.”
Glass breaking and another loud scream fill the air. I glance back at her. “Fuck that.”
My boots hit the ground and with the knowledge that we’ve safely arrived, I release the hold I’ve maintained on my anger. My chest implodes with its release and fury heats my blood as it begins to circulate, firing life into every faculty I need in preparation for this fight.
Spencer’s cries mix with those of Penny’s as I kick the front door open, only to be met with the sight of Penny’s mother bloodied and lying unconscious on the floor, Penny’s reddened, swollen, tear-stricken face as she’s being held mid-air by a meaty palm fisting her shirt, and the absolute terror in Ed Jamieson’s, fucking beady eyes as he twists to face me. The same Ed Jamieson who had me jumped not even a month ago.
Oh, the irony.
His fear radiates across the room and I crack my neck, permitting a menacing laugh to escape my lips before the fire finally ignites, relinquishing the absolute evil that thrives within me.
I FLY INTO THE HOUSE as fast as my feet will carry me and just as I enter the ransacked living room, the tension coating the air stops me dead in my tracks. The electric charge raises the hair on my arms as I eye Dalton stalking his victim with a predatory stare. He steps closer to where a man stands, holding Penny by her Despicable Me pajama top, the cotton minions covering her legs dangling about three feet above the ground as her eyes meet mine.
“Put her down, Jamieson.” Dalton’s voice is cold, hard, and void of any emotion.
I have no idea how Dalton knows this man, but his tone seems to work because soon after his demand, Penny is slowly lowered to the ground. Once her feet are planted, she runs to where her mother lies on the floor, crying out as she folds her tiny frame over her mother’s body. Her shoulders shake with her sobs and I carefully make my way over to them. Crouching down beside Penny, I reach forward, relieved when my fingers find her mother’s pulse beating weakly at the base of her neck.
My throat is raw as I whisper, “She’s okay, sweetie. She’s just sleeping.” Her puffy eyes rise to meet mine and I sweep my hand along her long blonde hair before stating softly, “I need you to stay right here in case she wakes up, okay? I’m going to go check on Dalton.” Her head dips as she nods, then it falls to her mother’s chest, the tears still leaking from her eyes as she remains still.
I press off the balls of my feet, gradually rising as my stare remains trained on Dalton. The look in his eyes is lethal, nothing I’ve ever seen before. Not even with Jase.
It’s as though he’s completely disappeared. No humanity is housed within them as he continues to approach Penny’s father with deliberate movements, like a viper ready to strike at any moment.
“Dalton,” I whisper. “Dalton, let’s wait for Mom. She’s bringing the police with her.”
My tone is soft, soothing even, in an attempt to distract him, but my request falls on deaf ears. He continues to stalk and it’s not until he draws his fist back do I make my move. Knowing the police are on their way spurs me into action as I launch myself and grab hold of his arm, digging my heels in as his strength drags me across the floor with the attempted delivery of his punch.
“Spencer,” he growls, “Let go of my arm.”
“The police are on their way. They can handle this.” My hold maintains as I narrow my eyes onto his flushed face.
The stench of alcohol permeates the air between us as Penny’s father chuckles, his eyes never leaving Dalton as he speaks. “That’s two. Two times you’ve missed your mark. First we beat your ass to a pulp, and now you have to sit there like some pussy-whipped motherfucker while your girl tells you what to do. It’s embarrassing really. Something tells me Silas won’t be happy.” He leans forward, breaching Dalton’s personal space and smiles, his rotting teeth made evident with his grin. “Be sure to tell him hello, by the way.”
Dalton displays no emotion, but turns to me and dips his chin, signaling he’s calmed down. I assess him for a couple of seconds and when his face returns to its normal coloring, I release my hold on his arm.
He moves toward me and I step back to give him room, only for his scowl to return as he twists his body and with the momentum gained, slams his fist into the side of the man’s face.
The man falls to the floor upon impact and I watch in horror as Dalton swings his booted foot and kicks him in the stomach. The man curls into himself, releasing a loud wail, and I raise my hand to stifle my own scream. Tears gather in my eyes and my entire body trembles as Dalton leans over, reaches forward to pull the man up by his hair, and centers his head not even two inches away from his face.
“You lay one motherfucking hand on either of them again, I will hunt you down. And once I find you, the pain you’re experiencing now will feel like ecstasy in comparison. That’s a fucking promise.”
The head within his grasp remains suspended until he slams it against the floor, knocking the man unconsciou
s before finally rising from his stooped position.
Only two feet away from where he stands, my heart races beneath my ribcage as I fearfully watch his movements. His eyes are lifeless as he tugs at the hem of his shirt, clearly unaffected by the violence, before he finally glances at me. It’s then that his eyes blink rapidly, finally seeming to focus on something other than the slaughter of the man on the floor.
He scans my body, my face, then my eyes. His vacant expression softens with apology before he breaks his stare to survey the room. Once his gaze falls on Penny and her mother, an audible intake of air breaks the silence. Tears clog my throat as I watch his eyes begin to glisten as he takes in the sight of Penny’s body hovered over her mother’s.
My heart feels like it’s on fire and as I watch his reaction to the little girl, I know this is Dalton’s pain, not mine, that sears my chest. I bite my bottom lip as he strides over to where Penny lay. Her head rises and as soon as she sees Dalton’s crouched presence, she jumps immediately into his arms and buries her head in the crook of his neck as she sobs uncontrollably.
“Shhhhh, shhhhh…”
His hand continues to stroke her back as he soothes her with his voice. Once the whimpers soften, he leans away and presses the sections of her hair clinging to her tear-soaked cheeks away to better assess her injuries.
A scab forming on her bottom lip tells me it had been split open during her father’s assault, and the bruising that lines her cheek is also further evidence that she took quite a beating. My chest flares and I unconsciously begin to rub my palm along my sternum to ease the burn, watching from afar as Dalton’s jaw muscles tick steadily alongside his face.
Her eyes still wet with tears, she watches his reaction before reaching forward with her hand and placing it on his chest. The burning immediately subsides within my own as she whispers, “I knew you would save us.” Her stare rises to meet mine over his shoulder. A dimple forms in her cheek as she informs him, “And she will save you.”
Under the Influence Page 11