Pushing the worn pillow into position, Ashley followed suit. Through the blanket and the thin carpet, she could feel the concrete slab of the floor and, surreptitiously, she shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position.
Carter switched off the lamp by the sofa, plunging the room into darkness. The blue-white glow of the security light outside shone past the gap between the patio curtains, silhouetting Samson. In the kitchen, the chair creaked softly as Bus changed position, and then the room was still.
She closed her eyes.
The man who killed her father bent over her. And everyone else in the room was dead. Her throat slashed, Spider stared up from the sodden blankets and Samson hung over the sofa, staining it red. Carter and Bus lay slumped against the blood-splattered walls, their guns dangling from their limp hands.
“I only needed one,” the man whispered.
Gasping, she jerked upright.
Shapes lurked in the darkness. Men with guns. Leering faces. Impossible waves of dark pressure and presence, waiting to strike.
And then the nightmare faded. The shadows resolved into furniture and dirty plates reflecting the light from the patio.
From his post by the window, Samson glanced down at her.
“You okay?” he asked, more caution than concern in his voice.
She nodded uneasily, and then lay back down on the hard floor. Tugging an edge of the blanket around her shoulders, she stared at the darkness, trying to convince herself it would be safe to shut her eyes again.
Sleep was a long time in coming.
The soft sounds of an argument woke her.
“… all I’m saying is,” Spider insisted quietly, “no one you’ve talked to this morning has ever heard of the girl. No one.”
Ashley kept her eyes closed, barely breathing.
“We don’t know everyone,” Carter pointed out, his voice equally low. “Especially the ones who have family hiding them.”
“Or the sellouts,” Spider argued.
“You saw the news,” Samson added in a hushed tone. “Mental instability? You know what would prompt that kind of thinking in your average cop. And they flat out said she wanted to have her family killed.” Samson made a sound somewhere close to an aggravated growl. “Carter, this screams of someone taking the opportunity to secure a little safety for themselves and you know it.”
Carter sighed. “Maybe. But you also know how they work. The kid could be caught in the middle of a cover-up as much as anything, especially since she looks like she’s hanging on by a thread in the middle of hell.”
“Or she’s a damn good actress,” Spider pointed out.
“And until we know for sure–”
“That could be too late,” Samson snapped.
A heartbeat passed.
“There isn’t a shred of proof saying she’s not a sellout,” Samson continued, his voice quieter. “And a ton suggesting she is. We’re not the damned Musketeers, Carter. We can’t risk everyone over a single kid–”
“We won’t,” Carter interrupted flatly.
Silence filled the room.
“And if she is a traitor?” Samson asked.
“Then you won’t need to worry about what we’ll do anymore,” Carter answered.
Dishware clinked in the kitchen, and then footsteps passed her on their way down the hall. A door shut and she heard water running in the bathroom.
“I’m going to go check the stuff in the van,” Samson muttered.
The front door closed.
Her heart pounding, Ashley opened her eyes. Early morning sunlight streamed past the open curtains, filling the room. From the arm of the couch, Wood was watching her. Seeing her awake, he grinned and then ostentatiously went back to studying the street.
Skin crawling, she pushed back the blanket and climbed to her feet. On the couch behind her, Bus lay sleeping with one arm pillowing his head and the two dogs lounging on the carpet below him. In the kitchen, Spider perched atop a barstool by the window, her eyes on the street and a bowl of cereal in her hands.
The girl glanced over as Ashley quietly entered the kitchen. “There’s food in the cupboard right of the sink, if you want any,” Spider said.
Ashley hesitated. “Thanks.”
Spider returned to watching the neighborhood.
Feeling lost, Ashley took down the box and poured herself a small bowl. Without anywhere else to go, she leaned against the counter and slowly crunched through her cereal, cringing internally as every bite seemed to echo in the silent apartment.
The bathroom door opened and Carter came down the hall.
“Where’s Samson?” he asked when he reached the kitchen.
“Getting some air,” Spider answered neutrally, not looking away from the window.
Carter paused, studying the girl, and then he turned to Ashley. “Can I talk to you?”
Nodding, she tried not to let her nervousness show as she set the bowl aside. Half the things they’d said didn’t make sense – in their argument this morning as much as any other time – but Carter’s final statement had been clear. If they thought she’d sold out, they’d hurt her. Maybe kill her. And the worst part was, since she didn’t understand what they were talking about anyway, she had no idea what might cause them to think she’d done that.
She could feel Spider’s gaze tracking her as she followed Carter into the living room. Ignoring the other girl, Carter cleared away the blankets and then turned to her.
“I want to show you something.”
She watched him cautiously.
“Do you know how to fight?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she shrugged.
“Okay,” he said. He reached over, taking her hand. Besides a small flicker on his face, he gave no sign of noticing her tension. “Hold your fist like this.”
Carefully, he folded her fingers into her palm and then wrapped her thumb over them. “Thumb outside. Never inside, okay? You’ll hurt yourself if you hold your hand that way.”
Her eyes darting between his face and her hand, she nodded.
“Now, this is how I want you to stand…” She could feel Wood eyeing her as Carter shifted her around. “Feet planted this way and your other arm this way. You punch from here–” he patted the side of her back, “–not your shoulders. The power comes from your back muscles as much as anything, alright?”
On the couch, Bus drew a deep breath and opened his eyes. Blinking, he pushed up on an elbow. “We starting a dojo?”
Carter grinned and then held up a hand. “Now,” he said to Ashley as the old man climbed to his feet, inched around them and then disappeared down the hall. “Just going slow, I want you to hit my palm here.”
Ashley hesitated. They’d argued over her being a sellout, and now he was teaching her to fight. It didn’t make sense.
“Come on,” he encouraged.
She swung, hitting his hand.
“Good. Now using your other arm, I want you to bring it up like this after a punch to block my counter attack.” He demonstrated, and then had her imitate. “Again.”
Bus came back in. Seeing Wood studying her, he grimaced and then jerked his head at the other man. “Go keep watch out the bedroom window.”
“It faces a brick wall,” Wood protested.
“And?” Bus replied.
Grumbling, Wood left the room. With a tired sigh, Bus sank down onto the arm of the couch and studied the street beyond the patio.
“Do it again,” Carter ordered her, ignoring the exchange. She repeated the motions. “Again.” She complied. “Again.”
They kept going, lightly punching and blocking back and forth. Occasionally, Carter corrected her stance or tension, but the interchange never stopped.
“Can you tell me what happened to you?” Carter asked.
She faltered.
With an encouraging noise, he nodded for her to keep going, and swung his fist for an easily blocked punch. Her brow furrowing, she raised her arm and barely deflected th
e blow.
A few moments passed.
“Can you tell me?” he asked again.
Clumsily, she blocked his punch. To one side, she could see Bus watching them, and she could feel Spider’s gaze from across the room.
“Concentrate,” Carter said. “Focus on what we’re doing here.”
She looked back at him. The fighting was a ruse to get her to talk. And yet from the expression in his eyes, she could tell he’d just keep asking till he got what they all wanted.
And if her answers somehow proved what they feared, they’d turn her out on the street. Or worse.
Drawing a tense breath, she swung again, fear-fueled anger making the blow stronger.
“Ashe…”
She hit harder.
He blocked and carefully punched back. She shoved his arm aside and then swung at him with all her strength.
Swiftly, he sidestepped the blow, grabbed her arm and pulled her sharply, sending her stumbling to the ground. She gasped as the hard concrete slammed into her knees and sent pain shooting through her legs. Responding to the feeling, the fires started to rise, rushing to destroy everything for the sake of making her safe again.
Panic shot through her. Frantically, she scrambled to control the flames. Trembling wracked her as she fought the fire back and her fingers dug into the filthy carpet with the effort of holding it at bay.
“Ashe.”
“They shot my dad,” she snarled through gritted teeth.
Blood everywhere and his body falling. His gasping face, begging her to run.
Her eyes stung. She shook her head, trying to stave off the tears as the flames retreated.
Carter reached down to her.
Brow furrowing, she looked up at him distrustfully.
“Come on,” he said.
She shoved to her feet and struggled to keep from wincing as her knees protested. Giving no sign he’d noticed the slight, Carter shifted around and raised his fists to continue sparring.
“Keep going,” he told her.
For a moment, she stared at him, and then raised her arms and punched at him. He blocked and then carefully returned the blow.
“What happened?” he asked.
Her fist glanced from his forearm.
“Ashe?”
She swung at him again. He wasn’t going to stop badgering.
“They set fire to the barn,” she growled.
He punched and then blocked, and his waiting expression never changed.
“I saw it first,” she continued furiously. “I just thought the hay had caught fire. And I yelled… I yelled for my dad.”
Her arm deflected his blow. His eyebrow twitched for her to go on, but he said nothing.
“Everything was dark. And Dad… he ran outside with us.” Her voice caught, and she swallowed, working to hold onto the rage as it began to drain away.
It was hard.
“They pretended to be farmhands. But they’d already killed them. And in the dark, they just… we didn’t… and then they shot him.”
Moments passed. The thin noise of traffic carried beneath the sounds of their sparring.
“He made me run… me and Lily… and I didn’t want to, but Dad, he…”
Her motions faltered. Carter made a quiet noise to keep her going.
“There was this man. Leading the others. He just walked up and… killed him.”
She nearly missed blocking the punch, and Carter shifted quickly to avoid hitting her. “Focus,” he admonished gently. Swiping a hand across her eyes, she struggled to do as he said.
“I ran. Then this boy drove up. I’d never seen him before, but he told us to get in. He…” The memory surfaced amid the chaos. “He said his name was Cole. And he drove, but the car crashed. We tried to run, but they were coming after us… they just wouldn’t stop coming after us… and then there was a cliff.”
She stopped and her hands lowered as her gaze dropped to the ground. Wordlessly, Carter pulled the punch, watching her.
“I-I fell,” she said haltingly. “And Cole… he tried to help me, but…”
She drew a breath, pushing the stumbling words past the memories. “They shot him too. Like my dad. Like they were nothing. And he had Lily. On the edge of the cliff.”
For a long moment, she stared at the carpet as the images played out in front of her eyes. Lily. The screams. The sudden silence. And then her brow furrowed, anger mounting past the pain.
Her eyes met Carter’s. “He laughed. The man that–” She exhaled sharply. “He said they just needed one of us. And he laughed.”
Fire tried to rise. Reflexively, she crushed it as she turned away.
“I tried to save her,” she continued, distantly noticing herself shaking. “To run to her before she–” her voice choked and she swallowed hard. “But they… they just…”
Loathing joined the anger and the pain, and she shivered harder. “I got away, though. She fell. And I… I got away.”
Questions drifted through her eyes as she looked back at him, asking Carter or anyone to explain. “She was eight years old. Eight. And he just laughed…”
Her face crumpled into confusion as her gaze returned to the ground.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Carter glance at Spider, but she couldn’t bring herself to care what they thought anymore. If this was selling out, they could just go to hell. Angrily, she turned to the window, and caught sight of Bus. Sympathy touched his eyes.
She looked away.
“Hey,” Carter said, pulling her attention back. “Come on. No more questions today.”
He shifted into a sparring position. She watched him a moment, and then did the same.
Time drifted by, punctuated by the traffic and Carter’s quiet corrections. After a while, the front door swung open, and Samson returned. At the sight of them, he said nothing, though the displeasure on his face left his thoughts easy to read. Shrugging off his jacket, and revealing the tattooed coils of barbed wire and chain wrapping the dark skin of his arms, he crossed to Spider’s side to watch the street.
A phone rang.
Carter jerked his chin at Bus, silently instructing him to continue the sparring. Stepping out of his way, Carter swiped his jacket from the couch and then retreated to the bedroom.
Wood emerged, grumbling about being shuffled around his own home, but at the twin expressionless looks Spider and Samson gave him, the man paled and swiftly scuttled to the far corner of the room, where he kept his gaze on the road.
Ashley waited till Bus got into position and then cautiously punched toward him. Unsteadily, he blocked her blow.
“Take it easy on an old man!” he cried.
She hesitated and he grinned, throwing a punch harder than any of Carter’s. Hastily, she blocked, and his grin widened. Heart pounding, she returned the favor.
He chuckled. “That’s better.”
Incredulous, she kept going.
“Watch your feet, girl!” he barked a second later. “I could knock you over, you’re so loose with how you’re standing.”
She scrambled backward as he charged toward her. Pulling up sharply, he tapped the top of her head and then winked. “Now, what should you have done?”
Unnerved, she shook her head confusedly.
“Like this.” He demonstrated sidestepping and then swinging a leg to trip an attacker. “That’s one way, depending on the situation. You want to be able to get away quick, right?”
She nodded, staring at him, and he laughed at the look on her face.
“I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, girl. Even broke my neck once. Didn’t notice though. Want to know why?” He winked again. “Neck muscles. Like iron, they are.”
She couldn’t think what to say.
“So, let’s try again. Stand like this and–”
He cut off as Carter walked back into the room. “We’ll continue later,” Bus told her.
Eyeing the old man, she just nodded.
“That
was Shen,” Carter said, leaning against the corner of the hall. “She’s agreed to take Ashe with her if we can get her out of Nashville.”
Ashley’s eyes slid toward Wood uneasily. Carter and the rest were one thing, but if this was the caliber of their friends, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
“Shen wants to move?” Spider asked, surprise in her voice. She hopped down from the barstool and came around the kitchen entryway, Samson right behind her.
“A few suspicious characters are lurking about,” Carter explained. “She’s getting a bit jumpy and thought it was probably time to go. And since Blackjack’s busy in Minnesota and Serenity’s relocating someone in New York, she called us.”
Shrugging her eyebrows expressively, Spider glanced to Samson and then headed toward the living room. Watching them from the corner, Wood’s relief practically screamed from his expression, though he wisely said nothing.
“Get Ashe something else to wear, would you?” Carter said to Spider as she passed. “Something a little less conspicuous.”
Nodding briefly, Spider continued into the other room.
Carter watched her go and then crossed to Ashley’s side. “Shenandoah’s a good sort,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the others getting ready to leave. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
He glanced toward Wood and back again, and then gave her a small grin.
She blinked, feeling as though he’d read her mind.
“Alright?” he asked, and then he patted her shoulder when she nodded. “Good. See you outside.”
Following Bus and Samson, he walked out of the room.
“Here,” Spider called to her. The girl tossed her an armful of clothes and then jerked her chin toward the bathroom. “Don’t leave the sweats in there, either.”
Catching the clothing awkwardly, Ashley nodded and then headed down the hall.
Given that she and Spider were close to the same dimensions, the jeans and tank top fit well, though the hooded sweatshirt was fairly baggy. But in light of the way the others dressed, she supposed that was part of the point. The clothes smelled vaguely of being too long in a bag, though, and when she looked in the mirror, she felt like a stranger stared back at her.
The Children and the Blood Page 15