Just the way I liked it.
Pain was my constant companion.
There weren’t many things in my control, but how I took care of my body was. On top of that, the only way I kept myself in check was by making myself hurt. Boxing. Running. Weights. I’d take anything, as long as it quieted my thoughts.
Silence was always welcome.
I was more aware of my mortality than most men my age, I think. I’d seen a lot. Suffered a lot. Done a lot. Learned a lot of lessons the hard way. It was what you did with those lessons that made you the man you should be. The man you were destined to be. That’s what I kept telling myself. The thing is, though, I was still trying to figure out who that guy was.
Who I was.
I thought I had it all figured out. Thought I knew what I wanted, and who I should be. But when it came time to actually commit—I hesitated. And I had no idea why. All I knew for sure was that after almost eight years of studying, I hadn’t yet committed the rest of my life to the very thing I’d been studying all this time. I’d started down this path due to some crimes I’d committed, as a way to atone, but now I was left to wonder if I had atoned at all.
Had I really changed for the better?
Was I really making a difference?
Would Mikey have been proud of me?
My phone rang mid pull-up, and I dropped down to the floor. Sweat coated my body, and all my limbs trembled from the hour-long workout. I swiped my damp forearm across my forehead and crossed the room to my iPhone. Glancing down at it, I frowned at the unfamiliar number. I didn’t get many calls, and never from people I didn’t know, and when I did, it was never good news.
Swiping my finger across the screen, I lifted it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Is this Thorn McKinney?”
I cleared my throat, my heart pounding full speed. “May I ask who this is?”
“This is the Eleventh Precinct, South Side Chicago, and I’m Officer Forkes.” The officer paused. “Are you Thorn McKinney?”
I closed my eyes. If the police were calling, it had to mean one thing. Mom had gotten herself arrested again. “Yes, I’m Layla McKinney’s son. What did she do this time? Drugs? Prostitution? Both?”
“Uh…” The officer laughed uneasily. “I’m not calling about your mother, though I am familiar with her…uh…work.”
I opened my eyes quickly, relief hitting me in the gut. Every time I bailed out Mom, it was a trip to the past—a trip I never wanted to take. Ever. “Then why are you calling me?”
“Do you know a Rose Gallagher? You’re listed as her emergency contact on her job application at—”
Just like that, my stomach dropped. She was the only person in my life who mattered. The last remaining reminder of who I’d been, once upon a time.
More than that, she was my only friend.
Sure, the only reason I’d hung out with her initially was because I had been her brother’s best friend. When Mikey died almost eight years ago in a tragic accident, I slipped into the role of older brother the best I could. And I’d never once strayed from that role. But over time, my “obligation” became something more.
Something I looked forward to.
Earlier today, I’d gone out to lunch with her—like I did every week—and even through my distraction and my need to tell her something that would probably make her hate me, I could tell that something had been off. Her beautiful blue eyes had seemed less shiny, and her smooth pale skin had been a little less bright. She’d still been breathtakingly beautiful, perfect in every way, enough to tempt a saint into breaking his vows of celibacy, but she seemed…tired.
Rose was never tired.
I knew her better than I knew myself, so I knew something had been wrong, and I kept pressing her for information, but she shrugged it off and changed the subject each time. And now…“Is she okay?”
“She was attacked—”
I grabbed the first shirt I found off my dorm bed, my heart twisting. If she wasn’t all right…I didn’t know what I’d do. “Is she okay?”
“She’s alive. But she got attacked outside her workplace.” The officer paused. “She’s in the ER now. They might keep her overnight, considering the nature of her attack, but then she’ll be released.”
I shrugged into the black shirt the best I could while holding the phone to my ear. I tried to keep calm, but this was Rose, and there was no calm. “Where is she?”
“Chester Memorial.”
I switched the phone to the other ear to shrug my other arm into my shirt. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
I hung up, grabbed my keys, and was halfway out the door before I remembered I was barefoot…by stepping on a thumbtack. “Son of a—” Breaking off before I let a curse slip, I picked up the tack and hurried back inside, ignoring the throbbing pain in my heel, stomped into a pair of black-and-white Chucks, and took the stairs two at a time down to the main exit of my dorms—the dorms reserved for guys like me, who were almost finished here but hadn’t quite taken the final step that was required for us to leave.
Swiping my card into the slot beside the door that led to the garage on campus, I tapped the card on my thigh. “C’mon,” I said as I waited impatiently for the light by the door to flash green. The second it did, I yanked the doors open and took off for my old black ’01 BMW. I bought it last year for eight hundred bucks, off of a guy who hadn’t graduated, but had instead chosen to spend his life with the boy he met at a bar a few blocks from school. The check-engine light lit up when I started it, like always, but for the first time I actually gave a damn. If this crapper of a car didn’t get me to my Rose…
I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions.
Gripping the wheel tightly, I stepped on the gas, speeding down I-55. As I drove, all I could picture was Rose’s pale face, surrounded by dark brown hair. The soft freckles across her cheeks always gave her a soft, angelic appearance, but she was tougher than steel. She would be fine. She had to be okay.
I’d make sure of it, if it was the last thing I did.
I owed it to Mikey.
With him gone, I was all she had, too. Her alcoholic, abusive parents didn’t count. They never had. It was just her and me against the world.
The ride to Chester Memorial went fast, and I bolted into the ER, scanning the room for any signs of Rose’s latest boyfriend, Keith, as I buttoned up my shirt and adjusted my collar. He wasn’t there, so maybe he was in the back with Rose. I’d only met him once, since she went through men faster than I went through classes. I didn’t particularly care for him, but if she’d been attacked, surely he would be here, too. If not, I’d make sure he never showed his face around me again. I might be a changed man, and I might not be the boy I’d once been, but I was still from the South Side. I still knew how to show little punks how to properly respect a lady…
One way or the other.
I scanned the room. A nurse sat behind an information desk, but I wasn’t officially a family member, so I wasn’t sure how much information I could get from her. A uniformed cop came out of the back room, coffee in hand. He gave me a once-over, shook his head, and turned his back on me.
“Excuse me?” I headed his way. “Officer Forkes?”
He turned back around, his brows lifted. “Yeah?”
“I’m Thorn McKinney. You called me about Rose Gallagher?”
Again, his attention drifted down. I could see the surprise in his expression, as well as the judgment. I bit my tongue to keep back the automatic reprimand that popped to mind. “You’re Lyla’s boy?”
“Yes.” I dragged my hand through my hair and tugged on my shirt self-consciously. “Rose. Where is she? How is she?”
“She is being wheeled into her room as we speak.” He took his hat off and held it in front of his chest. “I can take you to her in a minute, as soon as I get the all clear.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “Thank God.”
I
didn’t say anything to his sarcastic comment.
“Tell me.” He gave me the side-eye. I was used to that, especially when it came to people who knew who my mother was. “How is it a guy like you is the son of a hooker who’s high more than she’s—?” He broke off, cheeks flushing. “Forgive me. It’s not my place.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You speak the truth. While my mother is one thing, I went to the opposite extreme.” I tugged on my collar. It was trying to choke me even more than usual. “Who attacked Rose?”
“They think he was a customer who thought he should get more from her than a typical hand—” The officer broke off and cleared his throat, cheeks even more red. “Well, you know.”
No. I didn’t. Last I heard, men didn’t attack waitresses because they deserved “more” than their meal. “I thought Daisy’s Diner was in a good area of town.”
“It is.” The officer blinked at me. “But what does that have to do with your friend?”
I glanced toward the closed and locked glass door to the left, which led to hospital rooms. Was Rose back there? “It’s where she was attacked, right?”
“No,” the officer said slowly. “She was attacked outside of her work, when she walked out the back door.”
“Yeah. At Daisy’s Diner.”
Officer Forkes backed up, his eyes avoiding mine. “Uh…no. She works at the Kitty Kat’s. The…uh…gentleman’s club on Third and Green Street.”
I froze, dread settling into my stomach like a brick. Rose, my Rose, was working at a strip club. Taking her clothes off for money. For men. She would never have done that unless she had no other choice, unless she was in trouble, and she hadn’t even told me. Hadn’t asked for help. Guidance. Money. Anything. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” The officer acted even more uncomfortable. “She listed you as her contact person, so I assumed you knew…”
I dug the tips of my fingers into my palm and glared down at my shiny black shoes. “No. I didn’t know. If I had, she wouldn’t have been there.”
When Rose’s brother died, I promised him I’d watch after his little sister—that I’d make sure she didn’t end up like my mother, or his. That I’d make sure her life was good, despite her—our—sketchy past. All this time, I thought I’d been doing that. Keeping her close. Keeping her safe. Turned out I didn’t have a clue what was going on in her life.
I’d failed Mikey, and Rose.
“Look, if you’re uncomfortable with this, with helping her,” Officer Forkes said, eying my collar, “I can find someone else to take care of her. A coworker, maybe.”
“She doesn’t need anyone else. She has me,” I said through my teeth. “Tell me what I need to know before I walk in that room.”
“All right. The doc says she’s going to need care for a few days as she recovers, but he can give you more information once you’re back there. From what I can tell, her wrist is sprained pretty bad, and she has a minor fissure in her bone that requires a splint, so she’ll need help with daily things at first, as she heals. Washing. Cleaning. Cooking…” He glanced at his phone. “And there’s the beating she took before her boss heard her crying out. She wouldn’t talk to the officers, but we think he might have tried to force himself on her.”
Rape. Someone tried to rape her.
And I hadn’t been there to help her.
I’d kill him. Rip the man’s heart out and force him to eat it, then rip it out all over again. “Did they get the guy?”
“No.” The officer had the decency to lower his head in shame. “He got away, but we’ve got an APB out on him. We’ll get him. We always do.”
I nodded once, sick to my stomach at the thought of how much pain she must be in, how scared she must be. And despite my fear for her, my sympathy—I was angry.
So angry.
The officer cleared his throat. “Can you take care of her for a few days, or not?”
“Yeah.” Why hadn’t she told me she was working at Kitty Kat’s? Or better yet, why hadn’t she told me she needed help before she accepted a job at a place like that? I could have done something. Anything. “I’ve got her.”
“Will you be able to provide a place for her to stay? She was staying at the building the owner of the club keeps for the girls, but with a sprained wrist and a bruised face, she won’t be dancing anytime soon, so the owner—”
“She won’t be dancing ever again,” I snapped, clenching my jaw. “Not if I have a say.”
The officer shrugged. “Okay. But I have to ask again, are you able to take care of her? Or should I see if there is someone else who could—?”
“No.” I frowned, because I should have been the one taking care of her all along. If I’d been there in the first place…“Like I said, I’ve got her.”
“All right.” He gave me one last once-over and started for the door. “I’ll take you to her then. She looks a little rough, just so you know. Prepare yourself.”
My stomach rolled. “I will. Thank you.”
I followed the officer down the narrow white hallways, my heart picking up speed with each step I took. Last time I’d been in the hospital had been after the car accident that changed everything. Rose had clung to my hand, face pale, eyes dry. The familiar guilt over what happened that night choked me, and I swallowed hard.
We passed beeping machines, IVs, and nurses in scrubs who looked so overworked that they moved as if they were more dead than alive, and we finally turned into a room at the back of the hallway that was smaller than my dorm back at school. The second we stepped inside the doorway—
I froze.
Rose did, too.
She lay in bed, looking frailer than ever before. Her face was pale, with big dark shadows under her eyes, and despite her normal bravado, she looked terrified. Bruises formed on her cheekbones and around her neck, where the man had apparently wrapped his hands and tried to kill her.
I’d never felt so murderous before in my life.
“Who was he? Give me his name.”
The cop stepped back. “We don’t know his name yet.”
“Thorn…”
I turned back to her, not speaking, chest rising and falling rapidly. “What?”
Her eyes were dulled, and her soft, wavy hair that sometimes haunted my dreams was messy. She was still stunning, gorgeous in an awe-inspiring way that never failed to punch me in the chest, but tonight she seemed…broken. There was another bruise forming under her left eye, her lip was swollen, and she had a splint on her left arm that went from her wrist to her elbow. She wore one of those generic blue hospital gowns, and it only made her look paler. She had an emptiness to her that I’d hoped never to see on her. Like she saw and did too much.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” She licked her lips, avoiding my eyes as she ran her tongue over her silver lip ring. “I’m okay. I promise.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t capable of words.
“Are we all good here?” Officer Forkes asked.
I nodded once, still not speaking.
Rose smoothed her hair with her right arm. Her diamond nose stud twinkled under the florescent lights. “Yeah. Thanks, Officer.”
“Stay safe, Ms. Gallagher.”
“Always,” she said softly.
The officer left us alone and we studied each other, not speaking. I frowned at the fading bruise on her good arm, right under her shoulder, and thought about the dragon tattoo she got in memory of Mikey. I couldn’t see it under her gown, but I knew it was there. The bruise had the distinct shaping of fingers, as if someone had grabbed her too tightly and refused to let go. Those marks angered me more than the time she stole my phone back in high school, when Mikey had still been alive, and texted Mary St. James that I had herpes. To this day, Mary still treated me standoffishly when we crossed paths every Sunday.
She glanced down, saw where I stared, and tugged her shirtsleeve down. Too late. I’d never forget what I saw. “How did you find out about the attack?”
/> “Your job used your emergency contact information.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Oh. Right. I didn’t know Daisy’s Diner—”
“We both know it wasn’t Daisy’s Diner the cop got my information from, since you apparently don’t work there anymore. Maybe you never did,” I said, my teeth clenched tightly. “How long have you been at Kitty Kat’s?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking…” As she blinked at me, resignation crossed her face and her voice trailed off. Her cover was blown, her secret was out, and she didn’t look too happy about it. “Just for a few nights.”
My jaw twitched. “Why?”
She remained silent, staring at her lap.
I clenched my jaw. “Rose. Why?”
“Keith wasn’t quite the Prince Charming I made him out to be, okay?”
I took a deep breath, and then slowly released it. “Meaning?”
“Meaning…Lately, he was getting drunk and hitting me. I grew up with that for way too many years, and refused to fall back into that life for a man. Any man.” She played with the white blanket on her lap. Her pack of Marlboro Menthols sat beside her on the hospital nightstand, and I grit my teeth at the sight. I hated that she smoked, and she knew it. “So I left. But to lose him, I had to lose everything I had, because he wasn’t exactly happy I walked. Assholes like him never are. So I left my job. My home. What little money I had, before he snorted it all up his nose. I lost it all to him. I had to start over again.”
At a strip club. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed help?” I shoved my hands into my pockets and stepped closer, rage pumping through my veins. “You should have told me.”
“Why? What were you going to do for me?”
“I would have politely reminded him it’s not okay to pick on people smaller than himself,” I growled. “And then I would have showed him why.”
I used to be good at that.
At teaching punks lessons.
“The old Thorn McKinney comes out to play, huh?” She let out a small laugh. “Yeah. In no world would I let that happen. You’re seconds from starting your new life, but you’re going to take on an abusive asshole who’s hitting women because his dick’s too small, and ruin it all? Get thrown in jail for me? Hell no. Not on my watch.”
Resist Page 18