by Nicole Fox
So we wandered over to Skull together. Skull was one of the older members, and he was in the middle of holing up one of the back entrances. “What are you doing, Skull?”
The older man looked up at Dean, then at me, his face creased with a frown. He was grizzled and bearded, his skin like leather. But he was shirtless, and his body hadn’t lost any definition in its age. He looked as tough as nails, and I had to swallow hard to hide my fear down where it belonged. “I’m closing up half of the entrances to make this place more defensible. You, hand me that hammer.”
Dean picked up the hammer and handed it over. “Here you go!”
“Good, now hold this. You, girl!” he called to me unexpectedly. But I ran forward to help anyway. “Hold up the other end of this 2x4. It needs to be level.”
Without even a glance down at my injured hands, I did as I was asked, holding the bar up so he could nail it to the wall. “That should hold. Come on, you two. Let’s start the next one.”
And I did. There wasn’t much I could do, but I worked as hard as I could. I helped hold, nail, and glue. I mixed cement and stews, swept up shrapnel, and worked until my hands bled through the bandages. I even served the communal meal all of the workers shared. It may have been my imagination, but a few of the faces looked a little softer towards me than they had in the past.
Or it’s all in my head. But when I glanced at Jade, she was smiling. She nodded at me. Although she still looked tired and grim, there was a little bit of a lightness to her limp as she came for her share of the soup.
“You ain’t too bad at this, girly,” Tank winked at me as he shuffled through the line. “Best be careful; if you cook too well, they’ll end up recruiting you for it later.”
I smiled, handing the ladle over to one of the other women so I could tighten my bandages. “I’ll be careful.”
“Oh, those look bad. Once you’re done, come see me, and I’ll put them on proper. I have a first aid kit over by my bike.”
I nodded, thankful for some friendly conversation and a smile. “Thank you, Tank. I am awkward tying with my left hand, so I could use the help.”
I finished up my duties as quickly as I could, Dean still glued to my side, as the hour chimed nearly 11PM. I was dragging, my feet heavy on the concrete floors. But I kept my head up; it wouldn’t do to show any weakness at all. They already had a low opinion of me. It would be best not to make it worse.
As I made my way over to Tank, the giant, muscle-bound man pulled out a first aid kit, as promised. I could feel a lot of eyes on us as if they wondered if I was being too friendly with Tank. Sighing, I tried to turn my attention away from them, to keep my eyes on what was important, but it felt like I could feel their eyes on my skin.
“Don’t worry about them, Marion,” Tank said. His huge hands were surprisingly gentle as he cleaned my cuts with something that stung my fingers and my eyes. It smelled so strong that I was pretty sure there wasn’t a germ in the world that wanted any part of it. As soon as the sting started to fade a little, however, my cuts went numb.
I sighed in relief. “What was that?”
“It’s like homemade Neosporin. Jade makes it. Smells like the ass end of something, doesn’t it?” Tank chuckled. “But damned if it doesn’t work.”
I flexed my fingers, unable to keep the relief from my voice and my face. “Thanks, Tank.” I’d put up with the pain all day and still managed to work with everyone else, but that didn’t mean finally getting some relief from it all didn’t make me feel a million times better. Dean sat down next to me, and the three of us chatted about zombie movies and inane subjects. The less we talked about the Horns, Colton, or anything else about this place, the brighter Dean’s face became.
But then Cara walked in the front door, wrapped like a serpent around Lyman’s arm, and a shadow passed over all of us. It was hard not to feel a little bit smaller with the two of them in the room. The temperature seemed to drop as I saw the look of rage on Cara’s and the amusement on Lyman’s.
They glanced around the club, Lyman not even noting all of the hard work his people had put into the clubhouse all damned day. Instead, his eyes searched the crowd for someone to mess with.
Unfortunately, their eyes landed right on Colton.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Colton
“I see your taste in women hasn’t improved since Dean’s mother,” Lyman said, his face filled with wicked humor. I was too tired to put up with Lyman’s shit today, and he seemed to know it somehow. It was like he could feel everything Colton was feeling. I knew that manic look in his eyes better than anything.
He was looking for a disobedient underling to punish.
I refused to be that underling.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “She’s hot, though,” I answered noncommittally. I refused to let him get under my skin.
“I bet. I wouldn’t mind taking her for a ride. I bet she’s a slut behind closed doors, isn’t she?” Lyman licked his lip exaggeratedly, his eyes locked on the back of Marion’s neck.
I raised my eyebrows, a small smile playing across my lips, but I didn’t say anything. Inside I was seething. “Speaking of sluts, where did Cara wander off to?” I asked, my eyes roaming the room. She had entered the Horns on Lyman’s arm like she owned the place; it was odd she hadn’t clung to him like the tumor she was.
Lyman chuckled darkly, completely ignoring my question. “Does that Marion let you tie her up? I think she’d look nice doubled over, ropes around her wrists and ankles.”
“I’m sure she would if I wanted that.” I did my best not to look as disgusted as I felt; I’d seen some of the victims of Lyman’s little fetish after he was done with them. I would give almost anything to save Marion from a similar fate. Fucking sadist.
His eyes gleaming with madness, Lyman grinned at me like an idiot. “I see; you like it when she has her hands free. I bet she knows exactly what to do with those hands.” He turned back again to look at Marion, his eyes running too freely over her body. “I like sluts that let you choke them. I bet she would look beautiful as I strangled her.”
I swallowed my gut reaction to his twisted fantasies as he kept spelling them out. I wanted to punch him, to kick in that smirk. It took everything I had just to keep my face neutral. Just as Lyman’s sick, twisted little mind got too much for my control, Cara made an entrance, interrupting his train of thought. I could have kissed her as she walked over toward Lyman, moving his mind from Marion to cartel business.
Unfortunately, Cara also had a few things to say about Marion, none of them I wanted to hear.
Slithering forward on her impractical heels, Cara’s eyes darkened as they fell on me. She watched me through her thick, black lashes, her eyes nearly black with some kind of emotion. “Well, well, gentlemen. It’s good to see the clubhouse being put back together.” Her manicured fingers wrapped around Lyman’s left arm, even as she tried to stare me down. But I wasn’t in the mood. I kept my eyes locked on hers until she gave up and turned away.
“Where is your tag-a-long, Colton? Or did she give up and go back to Mommy and Daddy?” Cara asked, her mouth turned up in something that looked more like a threat than a smile. She was still wearing that blood-red lipstick, her green eyes surrounded by glittering eye shadow. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders loose in long, golden waves.
“Marion spent the whole day helping us clean up the clubhouse,” I answered calmly, doing my best to keep my face bored. “She did more than some of the others,” I finished, pointedly, wanting to piss off Cara enough that she would leave. Instead, she seemed to see my reply as some kind of challenge.
“Amazing that someone so weak and brittle could manage to do anything constructive,” she snapped, her emerald-green eyes narrowing at me.
I could feel my shoulders tighten at the pathetic jealousy in her tone, but I forced myself to breathe. “Yes, she injured both hands, but still managed to help with the construction. I think I misjudged her.”
Remember, if they kill you, both Marion and Dean will no longer be protected under the Horns’ rules. They’ll either kill them both or worse. If I repeated it to myself enough, perhaps I would be able to remain calm through the rest of this horrible conversation.
Cara bristled at my words, fire in her eyes. “That bitch still has no spine, and you know it.”
Lyman was amused, watching me closely for the telltale signs of me losing my temper. But the thoughts of Marion and Dean’s faces cooled my temper as fast as ice water.
“I’d like to help her find her spine,” Lyman whispered, his eyes too wide, his smile too big. He looked like some kind of crazed cartoon villain. I shivered a little, but managed to keep a lid over my disgust.
“Come now,” Cara answered, batting her lashes up at Lyman. “You could do much better than that little piece of trash. She can’t even stand up for herself!”
I made the mistake of glancing over at Marion; her shoulders were tense and her head hung down. She’s heard Cara’s words, and I could feel my rage at that choking me as it filled my throat.
“It’s true,” I whispered quietly, my eyes locked on Cara. “I could never really want some girl who doesn’t know how to get what she wants. Someone who is afraid to grab life and just take it.”
A shiver went through Cara’s body as I eyed her. Thankfully, it subdued her jealously long enough to get her to shut up. Her mouth seemed locked closed around her words, like she was too surprised to say anything properly. Wide-eyed, she just stared at me, then glanced at Marion, then back.
Before either she or Lyman could come up with something else to say, I nodded to them both. “Tank has a bottle of beer with my name on it.”
Lyman dismissed me with a wave of his head, his mad amusement still stretching his features. I shivered, unable to suppress it. I made my way over to when Tank was sitting with Dean. My eyes automatically looked for Marion, but she was no longer there.
“Hi, Dad,” Dean whispered as I walked over. His eyes looked glazed over, like he was exhausted and doing his best to hide it. The poor kid’s eyes seemed to stick closed every time he blinked.
Tank chuckled at Dean, looking him over with eyes full of affection. It was odd to think that Dean had more than just me to defend him. Maybe, even if something happened to me, Dean would make it out okay. I really hope so; that last conversation with Lyman and Cara had made up my mind.
I was going to meet with Virgil.
It was insane, and I was almost guaranteed to be caught and killed. But I was running out of good options. I wanted Cara away from Marion, away from my son, and away from the Heaven’s Horns forever. And if that meant coming together with Virgil to make a plan to take out Lyman, then so be it. I would make a deal with any devil to keep my people safe.
They are my people. As little as I want to run this place, I’ve been thinking like a leader a lot more often these last few months. Perhaps it was because Lyman had spent so little time acting like one. Or maybe it was something else.
If only Lyman had left me another choice. But there was more crazy in his eyes every single day. And now, looking down at my son, I could see the worry in his tiny face. I saw it echoed in most of the eyes of every in the Horns; they would fall or rise by Lyman’s actions.
And his actions weren’t ever going to any one of us any good.
I could feel the weight of my decision heavy on my shoulders, dragging me down along a river of self-doubt. I questioned myself again and again, and yet always came to the same conclusion.
“Come on, Dean; time to get some rest, kiddo,” I told him. He nodded sleepily, his head lolling a little on his neck. “Before you pass out.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Marion
It was hard not to overhear the conversation between Lyman, Cara, and Colton. I know that Cara was talking just loud enough for me to hear her every word on purpose, bringing her private conversation with him to everyone in the whole building’s ears, whether they wanted to hear it or not.
As much as I didn’t want her opinions of me to sting, they did. But everything she said didn’t hurt as much as Colton’s reply to it all.
“I could never really want some girl who doesn’t know how to get what she wants. Someone who is afraid to grab life and just take it.”
Those words echoed inside of my brain as I walked away from the Horns, embarrassed and hurt. I could feel the thunder of my blood in my veins. It felt like every single person inside of the building was watching me leave, could see the shame written in every line of my body. To them, I was a failure. But even worse, I was a failure to myself.
And I was a failure to the man I loved.
It’s stupid to love Colton; there is no way he will ever return it. I will be one of those horror stories that ends in tragedy. The air outside was colder, colder than it should have been. I felt like I had just walked into dead winter without a coat.
Shivering, I started walking. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I was very sure I couldn’t stay at the Horns. Sleeping in the same room as Colton, knowing what he thought of me, sounded like slow torture.
The parking lot of the warehouses around the Horns were empty, no one around. The whole world seemed abandoned. I kept walking, my mind reeling. No matter what you do, it will never be enough for Colton. He’ll find fault in everything you do for the Horns, everything you bring to his table. Unless you do something stupid and big. Something he’ll have no choice but to recognize.
That idea I’d been forming my head earlier poked back into the front of my brain. But that idea was crazy; too crazy. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t.
But then I could hear Cara’s insults. I could hear Jade’s words echoing around in my skull too. And worst of all, I could hear Colton again.
“I could never really want some girl who doesn’t know how to get what she wants. Someone who is afraid to grab life and just take it.”
Feeling stupid and not at all brave, I walked to the bus station. Even this late at night, the buses would be running. The city never slept and neither didn’t the transportation systems. I got on, handing several coins to the sleepy-looking bus operator before taking a seat. There was no one on this bus but me and a very young couple. I ignored them as they made out in the back seat, their technicolored hair mingling together into a rainbow as they sucked each other’s faces.
The city streamed by, all of its brilliant colors muted by the weird copper color of the streetlights. Like this, the city looked cleaner, emptier. It was like nothing could touch the bronzed statue that was the streets. Not until the sun came up and washed it away.
I ignored everything until we pulled up to the intersection I wanted. I pressed the button indicating I wanted to get off, and the bus screeched to halt at the corner. The streets were alive with noise as I stepped off of the bus. But I still had a long way to walk.
I was exhausted, but I forced myself to take the long way around. I needed to remember every little thing that had been ripped from me. Perhaps it would cement this crazy idea in my head if I could see it.
So I walked down the long, brick-paved street in the center of the city, where my new apartment would have been if it wasn’t for Jessa. I glanced around the beautiful, quiet, walk-only street, staring up at the swirling, wrought iron balcony railings, trying to remember which one was going to be mine. Which of those amazing views would have been mine? But I could no longer remember; was it the second to the left or second to the right? I kept walking, trying not to hover too long in one place. Someone might mistake me for a homeless person and call the police on me.
Ironic, at the moment, I am homeless. I could feel a weight in my stomach as that thought really hit home. I couldn’t go back to the motel. I’d been forced to give it up when I could no longer pay the bills. Colton hadn’t been giving me a paycheck.
I had seventeen dollars left to my name. Outside of that, I really truly had nothing. In all honesty, I didn’t even own a change of clothin
g; I had been wearing the outfit for the past few days, only switching it out for one of Jade’s castoffs when I had to wash it.
The worst has truly happened then. I could not be further away from the life my father had wanted for me. I couldn’t be further from the life I’d wanted for me.
I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the walk from the paved stones over to the paved streets, the sadness and depression that had been a part of my life for the last few months melted away. In its wake came a smoldering rage that started in my belly and started to slowly spread outward like a forest fire.
My broken, leaky boots made a soft quacking sound on the slightly damp pavement as I walked up Cardinal and 7th. There it was. Tiny and insignificant in this little town, but it had been mine. My tiny little studio apartment I’d had before I’d lost everything. It was the first time in my life I’d lived alone. The first time I had space to myself that I could do whatever I wanted with.