by Jo Raven
Yeah, this is still my home. Whoever this boy is, the one who did this for me, he has a heart of gold. I hope one day I can find him to tell him so.
***
I’m staring at Tessa’s hair. Wow.
“Don’t you like it?” she asks, turning this way and that.
“It’s blue,” I say, pointing it out in case she missed it. Maybe there was a mistake with the dye? “Electric blue.”
“Damn right it’s blue.” She grins at me and tosses her mane over one shoulder. She’s dressed in ripped jeans and an off-the-shoulder black blouse with a band logo. “Like it?”
I hesitate, then nod. “It matches your eyes.”
She shoots me a blinding smile. “Dylan likes it.”
“Girl, he’d like you even if you shaved it all off and tattooed your head with flames.”
She laughs, but can’t deny it. Everyone knows Dylan is crazy about her, and she’s crazy about him. Since they moved in together, they haven’t been able to hide how much they love each other, how much they need each other.
Like I need Rafe.
Oh no, I don’t. I don’t need anyone. He was right. It was a mistake.
“How is it going with Greg?” Tessa asks, oblivious. “I don’t see him much around.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “That’s because we’re not together.”
“But you said—”
“I know. I lied.” At her wounded look, I rush to explain. “I wanted to think I could get back together with him. I guess… I lied to myself as much as to everyone else.”
Her blue eyes clear. “So I was right. It’s not him you’re lusting after, it’s—”
“Nobody.” I raise my coffee cup in her direction. “I lust after nobody. As soon as I find another job, I’ll move to a smaller apartment, take the cat with me and be right as rain. I don’t need a guy to be happy.”
“I know that, just…” Tessa frowns and looks down into her latte glass. “It’s about him, too, you know?”
No, I don’t know. “What do you mean?”
“Rafe.”
I fight a wince at the sound of his name. Can’t I spend two seconds without his ghostly presence by my side? “What about him?”
“He’s wanted you for so long. Maybe we could arrange to get together one day, have a drink…”
“You’re wrong,” I say, my voice cold even to my own ears. “He doesn’t want me.”
“How do you know?”
“I know. He told me.” Well, not in so many words, but the message came through loud and clear. “So I don’t care if you guys are having a drink, or celebrating his birthday, but I’ll take a raincheck.”
“His birthday? He told you about it?”
About what? I open my mouth to ask, when her cell rings, and she snatches it from the table as if she’s been waiting for the call.
“Yeah? Yeah Ash, tell me. What? She’s still bleeding?”
I sit back in my chair, hit with dizziness. Words reach my ears, strangely distant.
“Is it bad? Damn. Give Aud hugs, I’ll be right there.” Through the buzzing in my ears, I hear a chair screeching backward, then Tessa say, “I need to go. Aud is bleeding, Ash is taking her to the hospital. Meg, did you hear what I said?”
I nod, unable to form words, aware what is happening to Audrey is far more important than my state of fugue. I wave at Tessa as she goes.
“We’ll talk about this,” Tessa says, pointing a blue-nailed finger at me, “this state you get in whenever Audrey is mentioned. Later.”
Throwing me one last worried look, Tessa gathers her purse and leaves, her latte glass practically untouched, sitting on the table in front of me.
I push away my coffee, my stomach churning. All I see is blood, pooling on the floor around my feet, and fear pulls me down like a black hole.
It’s in the past, Meg, I tell myself and draw in a long breath, hold it. Let it out. It’s been a year. You need to get over it.
You did your best, and it’s not your fault the baby is gone. Scott. His name was going to be Scott. A baby boy…
But it’s not your fault Mom’s boyfriends are violent assholes. That you couldn’t do more, or that Mom never got over it and blamed you for everything, once again.
But deep inside I know she’s right. Losing the baby brother I wished so hard for will always haunt me, and I’ll always wonder if things could’ve gone differently, and who I’d be today.
***
Mid-morning the next day, I’m stepping out of a fancy French restaurant off State Street, hands in my jacket pockets and my head down after yet another rejection. You’d think a job waiting tables wouldn’t so hard to find, and yet.
And yet.
Snow is falling gently, flakes drifting by, feathery caresses on my cheeks. A hot pressure is growing behind my brow. Damn, I don’t want to cry. Don’t want to break down. I’ll find something. I think…
I think I know now what Rafe meant when he said I’d break him. Right now, I feel broken, too. The caress of the snow reminds me of him, of the way he held me and stroked the hair out of my eyes, the way he spoke my name.
Gentle, but also determined, careful and yet trusting.
I stop and close my eyes for a moment, drawing the cold air into my lungs. Trying not to think about him.
But it’s a lost cause. His face, his body, his voice, they’re in my thoughts day in and day out, and the nights…the nights are the worst.
God, I wish I could stop this, stop wondering where he is, how he’s doing, who he’s with. If he’s okay, or if he’s hurting himself. If he’s with someone else.
No. I don’t want to think about him.
I stomp in the fresh snow, kick at it, try to calculate how much money I have left and if there’s anything in the fridge I could feed the kitten. Time to stock up on some ramen noodles and mac-and-cheese packages, and see if patching up my jeans means they might hold out for another month.
Guess going out again for coffee with Tessa or Zane is out of the question. Not that they’d be interested, with Audrey still in the hospital. She’s stabilized, but they’re keeping her in for observation, as her due date is almost here.
I should go visit her, I know, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Panic lurks at the corner of my mind whenever I think of dropping by, plagued by the same bloody images and the inescapable guilt that accompanies them.
Need to get over it. Move on.
Sighing, I start walking. There’s a public library not far from here where I can check online for any ads. It’s perfect for people like me who can’t afford laptops, smart phones, or a wi-fi connection at home.
Lost in thought, I start when a shadow detaches itself from the alley right ahead and steps in my path, forcing me to halt.
Shit, I’m about to get mugged. It’s not the first time, and I take a step back, wobbling on the thin layer of snow, fully aware I don’t even have pepper spray. Wouldn’t matter. Better give them what they want and escape unscathed. It has worked before.
I unsling my purse and extend it toward the tall teenager standing in front of me. “Here, take it.”
“Oh, I’d hold on to that,” he says, a crooked grin twisting his thin face. He lifts a dark brow. “Hi, Megan.”
“Who are you?” I take another step back, and clutch my purse to my chest. My heart is hammering furiously in my chest. “How do you know my name?”
He shrugs.
“Stay away from me,” I say, my voice strangled with nerves, cold sweat trickling down my back.
“Whoa.” He lifts his hands. He’s wearing a blue cap on his head, black cut-off gloves, and his black jeans are worn and holed. He can’t be more than sixteen. “I’m not your stalker.”
His words are like a punch to my stomach. “And who… Who told you about that?” I’m shaking from head to toe.
He shrugs again, a roll of his skinny shoulders. “I just came by to tell you to head over to Crescendo. You got a job.”
�
��Says who?” I know that café-bar. I passed by two days ago and asked, but I was told they didn’t need more hired help.
“The boss says so.”
“Who’s the boss?”
He snorts and pulls his cap lower, hiding his face. “Can’t tell you that.” Unexpectedly, he holds out his hand. “I’m Mage, by the way.”
I take his hand automatically. His grip is firm. “That’s not a name.”
“That’s what people call me.” Again the crooked grin. He’s a cute boy. “Me and Apples, we been keeping an eye on you.”
I pull my hand back, unease creeping back in. “You have? Why?”
“Boss asked us to. Because of the stalker.” He tips his head at me and turns to go. “Crescendo. Today, or they’ll give the job away.”
“They’re keeping it for me?” I call out, but he jogs away, vanishing back into the shadows.
So weird. But that’s not what’s on my mind.
Only one person knows I have a stalker. The person who told me about it, who said he’d look out for me.
I press a hand to my chest. My heart is slamming against my ribs. My lungs can’t get enough air as the pieces fall into place.
A dark-haired boy of about sixteen paid my rent, the landlord said. Probably the same boy who came to tell me I have a job and that there are people keeping an eye out for me, keeping me safe.
The boss. Rafe.
He’s looking after me from afar, making sure I have a roof over my head, a job and safety. Fuzzy warmth surges through me, and I stand on the sidewalk, smiling to myself. He does care. I wasn’t wrong about him.
Oh Rafe…
Now the million-buck question is, why is he pretending he doesn’t give a damn?
***
“So it wasn’t you who got me this job? Pinky-swear?”
“Already told you, girl,” Zane mutters, a growl audible over the line. “What’s this about?”
“Oh good. Good, good, good.” I can’t help the happiness bubbling inside me. I have a grin so big on my face it has to be reaching my ears. “Just making sure.”
“Sure of what? You done talking in riddles, Meg?”
His tone tells me he’s stressed. “Is something wrong? Is Audrey okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice softens. “Yeah, she’s fine. Damn, sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m happy you got a job. I fucking mean it.”
I know he does. Zane’s a sweetheart. “Then what’s gotten your briefs in a twist?”
He hesitates, and my excitement simmers down. Before I ask again what’s wrong, he calls something out, presumably to one of the guys at Damage Control, and I hear the sound of a door closing.
“It’s Rafe,” he says quietly, and my heart is now pounding for an entirely different reason.
“What about him?”
“Have you seen him around? Fucker’s vanished from the face of the earth. I swear, if anything happened to him…”
Fear curls icy fingers around my spine. “I thought you guys hang out together all the time. In fact, I was going to ask you if you’re doing anything to celebrate his birthday. I know it’s coming up soon, though I don’t know when exactly, and—”
“His birthday. He told you?”
Again that same strange reaction I got from Tessa. “Tell me what, Zane?”
He grunts. “What do you think I mean? About the anniversary.”
Anniversary. That doesn’t sound the same as a birthday. “Anniversary of what?”
“His family’s murder. It’s tomorrow, and he always gets kinda crazy when it comes around.”
Crap. “And what’s that got to do with this birthday?”
“Megan…” Zane sighs. “It’s the same date. It happened on his fifteenth birthday. He blames himself for letting the killer inside. He just…” A thump, as if Zane kicked at something. “He often hurts himself on that date.”
Holy shit. My legs feel weak. I sink down on my couch and suck in a sharp breath. “What should we do?”
“He won’t answer his phone, or his door, and with Audrey at the hospital… Dammit.” He pauses. “I hope we don’t have to break his door down. Listen, if you see him, give me a call, will ya?”
“Will do. You, too, if you find him first.”
The fear digs those icy fingers into my chest and twists. The pain I saw in his eyes, the desperation with which he held me… The things he did for me, and then the way he pushed me away…
All of a sudden, it makes a twisted kind of sense. Jesus, was he saying goodbye?
I shoot up from the sofa and grab my purse. I need to find Rafe. I just hope it won’t be too late.
Chapter Twelve
Rafe
“Leave Megan alone.” I’m finally facing her stalker in a back alley, not far from where she lives. Mage led me here and quietly left, to lurk somewhere nearby, most likely. “Who sent you?”
The guy has even more tats than me, and scars running down his neck. He moves his hand to his back, and chances are he’s going for a knife or a gun, so I grab him and slam him to the wall.
“Get off me, punk.” He shoves me, hard, and I stumble back a step. He sneers in my face. “Think I’m afraid of you?”
“You think I’m here to play games?” My fists tighten until my knuckles crack. “Think I have nothing else to do? I’m trying to figure out what you want from her.”
“What business is that of yours, asshole?” The guy is almost my height, built like a tank. “Get outta here before I smash your pretty face.”
I don’t budge a step. “If you lay a finger on me, I’ll break your hands and then ask you again: what do you want with Megan? It’s a simple question, or were there any words you didn’t understand?”
He growls and I intercept him before he can grab me. I twist his arm around his back until I hear his bone begin to crack, and through his wail, I say in his ear:
“Talk. Now.”
Thinking rationally, coming here to face this man alone was a stupid move. I should have back-up. I should at the very least have a weapon. But in my defense I haven’t been able to sleep a wink since leaving Megan’s apartment three days ago, so my brain is mush.
My only thought has been to fix this. Get it out of the way. Make sure she’s safe.
That’s my mission. I’ve even blown off Dakota’s plans to rehearse for another concert. Been ignoring all phone calls and anyone knocking on my door. I’m putting my affairs in order before I go down into the illegal fight club in the underbelly of the city.
I have no illusions as to what I’ll find there, or how dangerous it will be. Ash has told me enough to ensure I’ll go in with my eyes open.
“Fuck, man, let go! I’m not here for this Megan chick. Not here for her, dammit, stop!”
I frown. Not here for her? “Then who are you here for?”
“Her fucking roomie, Raylin O’Brien. She owes me.”
Stunned, I make the mistake of relaxing my grip, and he elbows me in the gut. Despite my surprise, I hunch over reflexively, minimizing the impact, but he still manages to get in a good one that steals the air from my lungs long enough for him to escape my hold.
“You’re one unlucky son of a bitch,” I wheeze, trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt like a mother.
He pauses, fists raised. “Say what?”
“Raylin. She skipped town a while ago, and nobody knows where she is. Fuck.” I straighten slowly, pain radiating from my gut to every part of my body. “You came to collect too late.”
He scowls. “And how the hell do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Fucker… You can have Raylin, for all I care. Never met her, and probably never will. I don’t give a fuck, and if you’d done your job right, you’d both be gone from here by now. But she left, and you should leave, too, is all I’m saying. You’re wasting your time here.” I rub my mouth on the back of my hand. “What the hell did Raylin do to have you stalking her like that?”
“None of your fucking business, as
I said.” He makes no move to attack me, though, studying me with intelligent, light blue eyes. “Any idea which way she headed?”
“Just up and left, no explanation, no nothing. Didn’t even pay the rent.”
The guy says some choice words, and turns to go.
“Hey.” I start after him. “Will you leave Megan alone?”
“I’m done here,” he says, walking away. “It’s Raylin I’m after. I’ll find that little bitch and make her pay.”
I wonder briefly what the hell this Raylin got herself into. This guy is serious about getting his hands on her.
But my mission here is done. Megan will be safe, and I have more things to take care of before I meet up with Clyde, leader of the Silver Gang.
Rubbing my ribs, squinting to focus my tired eyes, I set off toward my parked car. I need to convince Armin to leave Damage Control fucking alone. Here’s to hoping we can reach an agreement.
***
“An agreement. What do you think you could offer me that I’d want? Enlighten me.”
Oily. That’s the word that comes to mind where Armin is concerned. Oily and smooth, like a snake.
“What do you want from me?”
“Damage Control. Why, you got anything else that’s worth anything? Oh right, I forgot. You don’t, because you don’t invest your profits. You give them away, like a charity institution. So you’re as poor as those bastards you’re trying to help. So what good did it do you, huh? You’re just like Marnie.”
Being like Aunt Marnie doesn’t sound like a bad thing. She was wonderful.
I scrub a hand over my face. Damn insomnia. My brain is shrouded in a thick fog. Makes me paranoid. I thought someone trailed me all the way here. As if I’m the one with the stalker, after all.
“Name your price, Armin.” I never called him uncle. Never felt related to him, even though he’s my mom’s brother. “There must be something more you want from me.”
At least I hope so. And I’ll gladly give it up, whatever it might be, so that the guys can keep Damage.
“You have nothing else I want,” he says, shattering my last hope.
I sink into a chair, grabbing fistfuls of my hair. “Please,” I rasp, my voice barely coming out, refusing to beg him, and yet doing it. “Please, Armin. Marnie would have wanted me to keep Damage, you know that.”