by Slade, Shari
My head spins and I start to slip into that quiet place. The one where nothing can touch me. The one where I can survive anything. But now I know that place isn’t real.
All of it had hurt, I’d just delayed feeling it.
I’d done what I had to do in the past, but I’m not the same person anymore. I’m not a scared little girl. I’m not alone.
This hurts. Now. I don’t have to go numb to survive it. What I have to do is fight.
I throw my elbow back into his ribs, and the startled oof he makes is rewarding. The way he stumbles back, surprised and flailing, even more so. I’d caught him off guard enough to roll off the hood and scramble behind my car before he gets his gun drawn again. Jules holds her phone up to the window and I can see the last round of messages between her and someone from the club. From Noah.
Hold tight. I’m coming.
Relief slams into me. That Noah is okay and that he’s on his way to help us. I’m dizzy with it. I crouch low to the ground, hugging the side of the car and sliding toward the front passenger door. Drawing Wade toward Jules is the last thing I want to do, but I need to get the gun. I need it like I need air to breathe. Maybe more. Noah gave it to me to protect myself and I do not intend to disappoint him.
Wade takes his time rounding the car. He thinks he’s a cat toying with a half dead mouse. He’s underestimating me, thank God. I open the passenger side door and reach—
Bang! Bang!
My heart nearly explodes in my chest and everything goes ringing quiet. The car lurches as the rear tires deflate.
“I’m only getting started, you bitch. You’re not going anywhere.”
My lips curl back into a rictus of a smile as I dig the gun from between the seats.
Jules hisses at me from the backseat clutching her phone. “What are you doing? Noah’s on his way.”
It will be okay. I mouth the words to her and slip back out of the car. “I’m done with people like you, Wade. People who prey on the weak like it’s fun. You’re not a predator. You’re fucking sick. You’re a rabid dog.”
He rounds the rear of the vehicle. I see his gun pointed at the ground first, then the length of his arm, the tops of his shoes. “You were always so polite at the diner,” Wade hisses. “I guess it was for show. I’m gonna enjoy teaching you some manners.”
His eyes widen in shock when he sees me holding the gun.
And if they can’t learn, we put them to sleep. The thought blinks through my mind as I squeeze the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times.
Wade drops to the ground. And I take a few steps toward him.
In a horror movie, I’d scream at the girl to run away. Don’t get close to the monster. It’s a trap. But now I understand why they do it. They have to see what they’ve done. They need to know for sure.
Wade’s face is slack. His uniform is rumpled and there are dark splotches spreading where I shot him. His chest doesn’t rise or fall. His hands don’t reach to grope me. I don’t need to touch him to know that’s he’s dead, but I want to. I drop to my knees beside him, still holding the gun in one hand, and press a finger to one of the bullet holes. It sinks in just a little. I’m invading his body the way he invaded mine. It’s hot. Gross. But some sick, twisted place deep in my gut is pleased.
I lean in close, wipe my finger on his cheek, and whisper in his dead ear. “You can’t hurt me ever again. No one can.”
And then, just as fast, the pleased feeling slips away and my world starts to spin.
Chapter Three
I killed a man.
My vision goes hazy at the edges until all I see are pinpricks. I killed a man. I killed him and I put my finger in a bullet hole.
I’m a monster. A dog. Nothing.
I barely feel Jules tugging the gun from my grip. Noah scooping me into his arms and promising to keep me safe.
I laugh. A wild sound that can’t possibly be coming from my throat. What is safe?
He hurt me. He used me. He wanted to do worse.
Noah? Wade? Fuck if I know. They’re all the same, aren’t they? I laugh some more. It wracks my body exactly the same way sobbing does.
Chapter Four
It’s strange sitting in the club bar less than twenty-four hours after the worst moment of my life. Life and death, the band plays on. But I’m not playing anymore. I’m here in body only.
“Here ya go, Jay Bird.” Zig’s gruff tone is softer with Jules than with any of the men. He pushes a shot glass full of maraschino cherries across the bar, and Jules wrinkles her nose.
“That doesn’t look like bourbon, old man.”
He folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. “You used to beg for cherries. You’re the reason we have them behind the bar.”
“When I was seven.” Jules’ exasperated huff sounds slightly pleased.
I try to picture a tiny Jules wandering around the club, and I can’t even imagine it. She’s done nothing but sleep since we got her back from The Jokers. At least that’s what Noah had said. I’d spent most of that time sleeping too. And sobbing. “They let you in the bar when you were little?”
As soon as I ask the question, I realize how silly it must sound. This isn’t a regular bar with a bouncer at the door and a Happy Hour special. This is a private club. For outlaws. They do whatever they want. And of course I can imagine it. It looks just like this, a sassy little girl giving Zig a hard time.
“Only sometimes. They do cookouts and stuff. Family things.” She tucks a strand of glossy dark hair behind her ear and chews the corner of her thumb. The brief mention of family shadows her face. For a moment I’m struck with how alike she and Noah are. She juts her chin at Zig. “Did you check the expiration date on that jar? If those are just for me they might be old enough to vote.”
“Nah, these are fresh. Drew’s little peanut likes them.”
“I see how it is.” Her lips quirk into a smile and she pops a piece of the unnaturally red fruit between them. “You’ve got a silly little nickname for her too. Poor thing’ll be stuck with Peanut for life.”
“Maybe.” Zig’s face flashes something I’d almost call bashful—a softness around the corners of his eyes, a little uncertainty at the mouth. Just as quick it’s gone. But now I know for sure that he and Drew have something special. Something real. He stands up straighter, snags a bottle of Jim Beam from the wall, and clears his throat. “Noah.”
I turn to watch Noah close the distance between us. The crowd parts for him, everyone giving him the right of way. Nodding, clapping him on the shoulder, grunting acknowledgements. It’s so different from the first night he brought me here, when we slipped in nearly unnoticed.
Noah steps between me and Jules at the bar and rests his hand at the small of my back. His dark hair is still slick from the shower, skin damp beneath a clean white cotton t-shirt and battered leather cut. I lean into him, wrapping my arm around his waist, inhaling the soap and spice. I take comfort in his body.
Noah nods to Zig. “Set her up. She’s earned a drink after what she’s been through.”
“Wow.” Jules sneers. “You’re in charge now? I thought Zig suddenly developed a respect for the underage drinking law.”
Zig raises a brow at her sarcastic remark and pours three shots. Booze for lunch seems like a perfectly reasonable thing right about now.
Noah nudges a shot toward each of us and grabs one for himself. “Watch the mouth, Jules. After your little adventure, you’re going to need my permission to breathe.”
Jules and Noah both knock their drinks back with practiced ease while I choke down the burning liquid. She slams the glass down on the bar top and shakes her head. “I want to go bail Stone out.”
“No.” Noah points to his empty glass, and Zig refills it. Mine too.
“You’re always telling me to clean up my own messes. It’s my fault he got picked up. I should go bail him out.”
Noah tosses back the second shot. “Absolutely not. One, it isn’t your fault he got picked
up. Two, you don’t need to have anything to do with the cops right now. Three, it’s not your place.”
“What cops? I’ll post bail through a bondsman. It’s not like I’ve never done it before. Or should I have left your ass in jail the last time?”
Noah sighs and scrubs a palm over his face. “I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure Stone doesn’t like spending his weekend in lockup. And no one else is up for the job right now. Or does he have an old lady I don’t know about?”
“You sure as hell don’t need to be worried about that.”
“I’m not.” Her cheeks flush pink—maybe from the alcohol, maybe something more—and she pops another cherry. “I just know that if he did have a woman, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’re really gonna leave him hanging like that?”
Noah pulls a money roll from his pocket and peels off several worn hundred-dollar bills. Zig does the same.
“That’s what I thought.” Jules sweeps the bills into a small pile and tucks them into her pocket. “I’ll go make the call in the office.”
Jules returns fifteen minutes later with none of the blush left in her cheeks. She drops the cash on the bar top, and I don’t think anyone but me notices the slight tremor in her grip. “He’s already out.”
Zig sets up another round of shot glasses on the bar. “Good. He’ll be back for the vote tonight.”
The vote that will decide Noah’s fate. They’re all so matter-of-fact about it, I want to scream. Instead I swallow the burning liquor. It scorches a path all the way to my belly.
Chapter Five
Enough shots, and my body feels pleasantly floaty. Disconnected from where I am and the things I’ve done. But not completely. Not enough.
Jules is gone. Zig is working the other end of the bar. I reach for Noah, searching his face for something. “I need…”
Absolution? Oblivion? The kind of raw lust that scorches away everything in its path. Yes, that last one.
“Tell me what you need, baby. Tell me how to help you.”
I open my mouth, then close it again. I need too much. I’m beyond help. “I just want it all to go away. Make me forget?”
He spins me around, pulls me onto his lap and guides my arms back, back, back, until my shoulders are straining and my hands are clasped behind him. My chest juts out ahead of us as if I’m a mermaid strapped to the prow of a storybook ship.
“Look at those bastards. You know who they are now and what they’re capable of doing.”
“Yes.” I answer even though he hadn’t really asked me a question.
“Would you let any of them fuck you?”
I jerk, shocked. “What kind of question is that?”
“A serious one.” His voice is a rough whisper. Only for me. “Tell me, Star. Who would you fuck if I wasn’t here?”
I twist in his embrace but he doesn’t let me go. I want to scream at him that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. Instead I grit my teeth. “I don’t like this. It feels like a trap or a test and—screw you. None of them. Not one.”
“What if I told you to do it?” There’s an edge of playfulness in his voice and my breath catches. A shameful heat spreads through my core at the thought of being used in such a way. A heat spiked with fear. Sharp. Dangerous. Destructive.
“Noah. Don’t.”
“Star.” He mocks my warning tone.
“Are you planning to give me away? Is this business? Am I going to be a gift with purchase?” I don’t want to be used for business. Pleasure, yes. His pleasure especially. “I won’t be a pawn.”
“No baby. Like a gift, period.”
His grip on my arms softens and my heart thunders. “Why?”
“Because you’re mine to give. Makes my dick hard just thinking about you spreading your legs and taking whatever cock I tell you to take. And because I think you like the idea. Your nipples are so fucking tight right now, I can see them through your shirt.”
His stubble grazes my neck and I shiver. “Who?” I ask.
“Those guys. Playing pool.”
I study them. Big and tattooed. Scary. Neither of them with anything to give. Except their loyalty, and Noah already has that.
“Maybe I’d let them drape you over the green felt and each take turns holding you down while the other fucks your sweet pussy.”
I can imagine the abrasion of the rough fabric against my nipples, their thick fingers digging into my thighs, the smell of beer and ashes invading my nostrils as I pant. I can play this game with him.
“Just my pussy?” I breathe.
“Fuck, Star.” He groans. Now it’s his turn to squirm. “That mouth of yours. All I want to do is fill it with cock. Or kiss it.”
“Would you do that? Fill my mouth while—” I jut my chin in the direction of the pool table “—one of them fills me…somewhere else?”
And just like that I’m spinning out of his lap and over his shoulder. My head reels. Heat radiates through my ass cheek and down my thigh. Noah doesn’t pull his hand back to spank me again. He holds it there—holds me steady—as he marches toward the exit. “You’re in for it now.”
“I called your bluff.”
“Another man so much as breathes wrong in your direction and I’ll use his face to polish my fucking boots.”
He carries me out of the club and drives me straight back to the little house on the edge of town.
*
The couch in Noah’s father’s house smells like motor oil and lemon Pledge. It’s a personal, homey smell that shouldn’t be so foreign. But it is. The smells of last night—gunpowder, the metallic tang of blood—haunt me. I curl onto my side and draw my knees up to my chest. It’s the first quiet moment since the nightmare with Wade that I’m not sobbing. The weight of it settles over me and I shudder.
Noah cradles my head in his lap and strokes my hair. His touch is gentler than it’s ever been.
The tenderness puts me on edge so I press my cheek into his denim-covered thigh. “You’re touching me like I’m made of glass.”
His voice is low and soft. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”
“Then hold me like you mean it. You’re supposed to be granite, Noah. And I’ve been trying to break myself against you since I met you. Only it hasn’t worked. I must be made of harder stuff than anyone thought.”
He presses the rough pads of his fingers into the muscles knotted in my neck. “I knew. I always knew. Even when you were shy, limping in your new work shoes, but refusing to sit down.”
“God.” My voice cracks. “I’m going to go to prison for the rest of my life.”
“Baby, no.” He pulls me up until his arms are around me and we’re face to face. “You did what needed to be done. You protected my sister. You protected the club. That kind of loyalty is rewarded. It’s taken care of.”
“I’m not loyal, Noah. Never have been. Not to my family. Not to a job.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “Did your family or your boss ever do one fucking thing to earn your loyalty?”
I shake my head.
“That’s what I thought. You bailed on all of them but you drove into hell for me. Why?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and tears roll down my cheeks. This is too much. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit, Star.” He shakes me—not hard—but enough that my eyes spring open and I see him for who he is. A man who won’t be denied. Hard and fierce. Mine.
“Because you earned it. You earned my loyalty.”
“And now you’ve earned ours.”
The pride in his voice stings, because I don’t feel like I deserve it. “I did it for me, though. No one else.”
“That’s enough of a reason. I’d ink my name into your flesh right now if I could. I’d brand you. You’re not glass, baby. You’re diamond. I don’t want there to be any more doubt. No more confusion. All of this is mine.” He skims his hands up my arms and over my shoulders until he’s caressing my jaw—grip
ping my chin. “Every beautiful, unruly inch. Mine since the minute I laid my eyes on you. Mine to take. Mine to hold. And that makes me yours, Star. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I lick my lips, tasting phantom gunpowder mixed with salt. “You’re not wrong.”
He grins and his whole face changes. Softens. I want him to look at me like this always. “My little warrior.”
“Not a warrior.” I choke on a bittersweet laugh. Maybe I’m not exactly a coward anymore, but I’m not—that. Am I? I try to look away but he jerks me back to full eye contact.
“Hell fucking yes you are. It was kill or be killed, baby. And you chose life. You protected something precious. My heart.”
“Your sister.” Of course. It’s starting to sink in that maybe I’m not a monster. I may never feel good about what I’ve done…but I truly didn’t have a choice.
“I’m forever grateful to you for protecting Jules, but I’m talking about you. You’re my heart. Even if you were alone you did the right thing. How many times do I have to say it? A hundred? A thousand? I’ll do it until my voice gives out. I’ll do it forever. I love you.”
Something warm and giddy bubbles up in my chest. Forcing out all but the last shred of my fear. Did he say love? “This all sounds a lot like vows to me.”
“Make no mistake, what I’m talking about is more permanent than any bullshit vows. In-fucking-delible, blood and ink.”
“Like the blood on my hands?”
Noah releases my chin and grabs my wrist. “Here?” He holds my palm up for inspection. “You’re perfect.”
And then his lips are on my hand, hard and hot. Kissing a trail over my palm, the delicate underside of my wrist, my forearm. Licking me clean of my invisible filth.
He takes one shuddering breath and it’s like he’s breathing for the both of us. Like we’re one person. I bow to meet him, mouth falling open. His tongue slicks against mine and I shiver with the pleasure of it—collapse into it.