by K. L. Savage
Doc told me he gave me a high dose of anti-anxiety medication and sleep medication. The rest helped, but I’m so afraid to close my eyes because I never know who I will see in my dreams. So many different men. So many different faces.
I never felt desire for any of them. I never wanted them to touch me. It wasn’t welcomed. Then, I see Poodle, and a fire burns in my belly, my heart races, and all I want to do is launch myself in his arms, a man’s arms, and that terrifies me. No man has ever been gentle, kind, or trustworthy, so putting my faith in Poodle is new to me. My instincts tell me he’s someone I can count on, and that’s a different feeling that I’m used to.
“No,” I finally manage to say. “I’m fine.” A cold nose touches my hand, and a wet tongue licks my palm. I look down to see Lady, sitting there with her little round belly, her poofy tail wagging, and her big brown eyes staring up at me.
“I know Lady cheers you up.” Poodle’s voice makes me shiver, as if it just snowed three feet outside and the air is ice. “So I brought her out here for you,” he says.
“You okay?” Doc asks, still grabbing onto my wrist. I watch Poodle stare where Doc and I touch, narrowing his eyes as if he doesn’t like it. I know that isn’t true. Maybe Poodle thinks I’m a whore too, just like my dad did. I pull my wrist away from Doc with more force than necessary, and Doc takes a step back, tilting his head in question at me.
Great. We will talk about that in more detail later at our session.
I kneel and pet Lady behind the ears, and she swipes her tongue up my cheek, wet and slobbery. I giggle, my mood completely changing when receiving Lady’s love. “I’m fine, now. Thanks, Doc, for checking on me,” I make sure to tell him, so he knows I appreciate it, and that I had no ill intention of yanking my wrist away. I don’t know why I care so much about what Poodle thinks of me, but I do, and I don’t want him to think I’m sleeping with Doc.
“Okay, I’ll leave you too it, then. I need to go check on Moretti. Since Crybaby left and got the hell out of dodge, I think Moretti is feeling lonely.”
I frown. That’s a really sad way of looking at it. Moretti is in a coma from a horrible explosion, and a man called Crybaby was lying beside him. Tool stabbed Crybaby a few times, punched him, and cut him up to get information of Juliette’s dad. Crybaby was a rookie cop, but not anymore because once he healed, he ran out of here like Hell was nipping at his heels.
“I’ll make sure to go down and see him later,” I say, petting underneath Lady’s chin. Her eyes shut, and her leg starts to shake. She always loves chin scratchies.
“That would be great.” Doc reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. For some reason, because I’m glutton for punishment, I lift my gaze to Poodle who is staring at Doc’s hand, and that jaw tics again. Doc disappears down the hallway, and his footsteps descending the basement fade away until the loud thuds become nonexistent.
“I need to go talk to Reaper. I’ll be back,” Sarah informs me before trotting to the couch to plop on Reaper’s lap.
Which leaves me alone with Poodle and his poodle.
3
POODLE
She’s staring up at me with those big, bright-as-a-sunny-day eyes, and I’m enchanted. Melissa cast a damn spell on me. Some will say it’s a blessing if they ever find out how I feel about her, but no matter how strong she is, she’ll never overpower a curse.
“Thank you for bringing Lady out here,” she says, but I don’t hear her because I’m watching her lips move, curving into beautiful shapes as she speaks. “Poodle?”
I blink when I hear my name, breaking that damn spell she cast on me, and I give her a weak smile. I can’t give her any hope that something can be between us. Nothing can.
I’ve convinced myself that the rest of my life will be lived alone if it means living without my daughter. She’s first, before anyone, before any other woman. I need to find out what happened to her, and if she’s dead…
I don’t know. I refuse to believe she’s dead. I feel it in my chest. She’s alive. It’s been a long time, but there’s hope. Somewhere in this damn world there has to be hope.
“Yeah, it isn’t a problem. Whenever you need time with Lady, just let me know.”
“I appreciate it.” She kisses Lady on the nose, and my fists clench at my sides. I want to kiss her so damn bad. The agony builds, the frustration, the anger. Tonight, I need release. This isn’t good. I can’t have Melissa wrecking my control. My life is exactly where I need it to be, where I want it to be, in order for peace to be brought to the world. Melissa threatens that.
Holly. Think of Holly.
Melissa stands and hooks her thumbs through her belt loops. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, the long, silky strands are the color of melted chocolate. “Well, it’s good seeing you. I’ll let you get back to … whatever you were doing,” she says.
“Just trying to figure out which one caught Lady’s attention. It’s Yeti. Fucker gave her half his biscuit,” I tell her in an annoyed huff. No one will understand how frustrating it is to have an AKC registered, award-winning dog, only to have her knocked up. I bet Yeti won’t even be a good baby daddy. It’s a bunch of horse shit, if you ask me. He used her. Plain and simple. Braveheart’s testimonial about it being ‘natural’ can take a hike. Lady is different. She’s a—well—a lady!
Melissa giggles when I say biscuit. What is it about the word that makes people think of something that isn’t a dog treat?
“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at them.” She points to Lady who is licking the inside of Yeti’s mouth, and she’s enjoying it. She doesn’t even look like she’s forced into doing it.
“Lady!” I scold and snap my fingers at her. “You get your tongue out of his mouth right this instant!”
Melissa laughs again, as does everyone else in the main room. Tool is loving it. Juliette and him are chuckling as if this is okay. This is not okay.
“Lady, you have until the count of three,” I warn her, which usually means nothing because she’s too cute. She stops, stares at me, then continues licking Yeti. “One,” I count. “Two.” Yeti growls, lifting his lips and baring his teeth at me as he steps in front of Lady.
“Get your damn dog, Tool!” I shout.
“Nah, I like where he is. He’s fine.”
“He’s a monster,” I say as Yeti takes a step closer to me, growling so deep it sounds like he’s about to attack. Drool drips from his mouth, and when he barks it flies, threatening to touch me. I push Melissa behind my back, not wanting her to get hurt, and I bend down to look Yeti in the eyes, showing him who’s alpha around these parts.
“Oh, this is too good. I need to record this. Where’s the button, doll? I can’t see it,” Reaper asks Sarah. It sounds like it has something to do with his phone.
“You’re so old,” she teases.
My eyes begin to dry, and my face begins to twitch. Yeti looks bored. “Fuck! My eyes,” I blink and rub the dryness away, and Yeti huffs, then he takes his spot next to Lady.
“Damn! I missed it,” Reaper grumbles. “Stupid phone doesn’t fucking work. I knew I should have never gotten the upgrade.”
“You need glasses, Jesse,” Sarah whispers out of the side of her mouth, thinking we can’t hear her.
“I don’t need prescription glasses! I can see just fine.” He pushes off the couch and stomps down the hall.
His office door slams, and Sarah groans, plopping her head back on the couch in frustration. “So damn sensitive about needing an actual prescription instead of glasses you can buy at the Dollar Tree.” Sarah stands and cracks her neck. “Alright, guys. I’m going to go tame the beast. Wish me luck.”
A round of half-chuckled ‘good lucks’ sound, and Sarah hurries down the hall. Only Reaper’s office door doesn’t slam when she closes it. It’s funny, a man like Reaper, big, badass, a take no shit kind of attitude, and he pouts.
“Are you done fucking with my dog?” Tool stands beside Yeti, arms crossed, tattoos bulging, as he
glares at me. Now that I look at him and Yeti, they look alike. Obviously not the face, because that would be weird, but the muscle. Yeti is fucking stacked for a dog, and it only goes to show that dogs really do look like their owners.
“Only if your dog is done fucking with mine,” I snap at the VP in return.
“Oh, shut up,” Pirate grouches.
“Yer boring the fuck outta me, Poodle. It’s a damn dog. Let them be.” Skirt guzzles a beer down after he bites into a thick, meaty sandwich. Beer dribbles on his red beard, and he wipes his arm over his mouth before he takes another bite of his sandwich.
“Seriously. I’m tired of hearing about it. I’m about ready to throw one of my stars at you.” Knives curls his lip in disgust, and the ninja star in his hand gleams in the light.
“Well, that’s just hostile and unnecessary.” I tug the hem of my shirt, and Melissa’s hand reaches out and brushes against mine. I turn around and take a step back. I have to be out of her reach. Why doesn’t she get that?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” she begins to say, but my panic interrupts.
“You can’t just go around touching people anytime you want, Melissa! I don’t know how to make things much clearer than I have. Just don’t fucking touch me, okay?” I yell at her. My face is red, and desire unlike anything I’ve ever felt before swims through me from her simple touch. She doesn’t understand how much I want her and how much I fight her, just so I can make it through each day.
She can’t touch me.
I’m barely keeping it together, and her touch will make me fall apart.
I can’t afford to fall apart right now.
The entire room falls silent, and all eyes are on us. Her face turns red, and her bottom lip wavers. She crosses her arms over her body and nods; the sight nearly has me falling to my knees, but she needs to hate me. It’s better this way. A tear falls down her cheek, and she quickly wipes it away.
“You get me?” I repeat, hating myself for how cruel I sound.
She turns those golden eyes on me, holds her head up high and blinks, letting her tears fall with no shame. “I get you. It won’t happen again. Excuse me.” She brushes by me, almost touching me, but she moves at the last second to dodge me.
I don’t watch her leave because I want to follow her, to beg for her forgiveness, to show her that’s not who I am.
Who I am, no one really wants to know. I’m saving her the time of being immensely disappointed by learning about who I hide beneath this skin.
I lift my eyes to see every Ruthless King staring at me, and none of them look happy.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tongue steps out from the shadows, his silver knife gleaming in the sunlight that’s fading under the desert hills. “I should cut out your tongue for how you spoke to her.”
“Seriously,” Bullseye says and then throws one of his darts at me. I jerk to the side to miss the metal zip as it flies by me, landing with a loud thump. That would have landed in my shoulder if I didn’t move. “You’re an asshole.”
“I thought that was just me,” Pirate slurs, swallowing a gulp of rum from the Sailor Jerry’s bottle. “Welcome to the club.” He hands me the rum, but I don’t take it. “More for me.” He shrugs.
“Ow.” I place my hand on my forehead after something slaps against it. I look around to see Slingshot sitting on the couch, a bag of Skittles on his lap, and his slingshot pulled back, ready to fire. “Listen—” It’s too late. He releases it, and the red blur zips through the air and smacks me against the cheek. “Stop fucking doing that!” I rub my cheek to ease the sting. I didn’t know Skittles could be used as a weapon, but leave it up to Slingshot to use anything he damn well pleases.
“Go apologize,” Badge speaks up, and everyone else mutters an agreement. “She didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t like she grabbed your ass, and honestly, if it was a cut-slut, you wouldn’t have cared. This isn’t like you.”
“You don’t even fucking know me!” I roar and point my finger at all of the men I call my brothers. “None of you know me. So stay the fuck out of my business.” I spin on my heel and walk toward my bedroom to get away from the crowd that’s plotting against me. I have my own plotting to do tonight.
A slice rings through the air, and metal chimes when it strikes against the archway, right near my head, and I pause mid-step. The metal tip is embedded deep in the wood, the blade black and the handle made of ivory. “Next time you talk to her like that, I won’t miss,” Tongue says from behind me, and his breath puffs against my neck he’s so close. He reaches up, and his palm wraps around the handle of the knife. “And you know I don’t miss,” he says with finality as he pulls the knife out of the wall.
I walk away from him, not saying another word as I open my bedroom door and kick it shut. I flip the lock in place and test the door to make sure it doesn’t open. When all is clear, I reach under my shirt and take the necklace off, then kneel at the end of the bed where I keep all the things in my life that have to remain hidden.
The key is small, iron, something that resembles an Allen wrench. I slide it into the hole, flick my wrist, and the sounding click tells me it’s unlocked. I lift the wooden lid, and my weapon lays there on the first tier of the chest. Everything inside me shifts to create someone new, someone dangerous, someone I’ve been for far too long. I don’t think I’d even know what to do with myself if this side of me didn’t exist.
The reasons for me turning into a monster lay underneath this tier, but the reason I stay a monster is in the weapon. My need for vengeance never fades, the thirst for revenge never gets quenched, and the desire to kill those who deserve it only grows.
I wrap my hand around the dagger and let out a trembling breath when I feel the power rush through my veins and strengthen my core. The dagger is self-made; the wood that created it is from the record player Holly loved, and the tip of the weapon is formed by the last record played on it. It’s sharp, it’s deadly, and I’ll make sure the record never stops spinning, not until my little girl is found.
4
MELISSA
I hurry downstairs where Moretti is and where Doc seems to live. He’s the only one I feel like I can talk to around here besides Sarah. I’m starting to feel alone. Maybe I need to take a page from Rayleen’s book and get the hell out of here. Mary has embraced this life, but I think it’s easy for her. She doesn’t seem to have a traumatic history, besides getting kidnapped, so it isn’t hard for her to decide what she wants to do with her life. I’m envious, then again, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m being assumptive of her.
What I wouldn’t give for the only thing to ever happen to me is a kidnapping. Maybe that’s my problem. I’m jealous that more bad things have happened to me, instead of her, and she’s so la-dee-freaking-da about it. Like right now, she’s off with the women that the members call the cut-sluts, getting her hair done.
Why she decides to degrade herself like that, I’ll never know.
I sigh as I take a seat in the soft rocking chair next to Moretti. It must be so expensive keeping him alive like this. In the short time that I’ve been here, I can see healthy changes in the man I don’t know but visit every day. His hair has grown back on his scalp, and his beard is thick since no one has shaved it. I’m too nervous to try. Doc says Moretti’s skin is healing better than he could have hoped for. Some spots on his legs are so burnt, leaving him marred and ruined, but his arms, besides a few areas, are looking healthy. He looks like he should be waking up soon. Doc doesn’t have him in a medically-induced coma anymore.
Moretti just isn’t waking up. I’m worried about him.
I reach out and take his hand in mine; his palm is soft and warm. It shocks me every time I find him warm because he hasn’t moved. The steady beeps of the machine don’t change, a deafening monotone announcing proof of life. “How are you doing?” I ask him as if I’m going to hear him reply. “Me? I’m not so bad.” My own tone isn’t very convincing. “I feel out of my element, and I
have a feeling if you were awake, you might feel the same.”
“You know he can’t hear you, right?” Doc says as he comes out of the supply closet to the right. His scrubs swish as he comes forward and brings up a chair next to me.
“I know. I just hope he can. I think if he can hear me, he would be happy to know someone isn’t forgetting him and talking to him.”
“That’s very kind, but he gets other visitors too. Don’t worry about that.” He grips my chin and turns my face to look at him, and he notices I’ve been crying. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing.” I wipe my cheek. I’m so sick of crying. I’m so sick of feeling like this—so weak, so vulnerable. I’m disgusted with myself.
“I don’t believe that for a second, Melissa. You can talk to me.”
“What’s there to talk about?” I whisper and squeeze Moretti’s hand. “The same story over and over again? Doesn’t it get old to hear when nothing changes? I’m sick of hearing my own voice say the same words when this feeling never goes away.” I lay my hand against my belly, and the uneasiness of anxiety roars it’s ugly head.
“Oh my god, I just heard, Melissa. Are you okay?” Sarah yells from the middle of the staircase, and I nearly scream. I’m tired of hearing the question, ‘are you okay?’ No, no I’m not okay. I’ll never be normal. I’ll never be okay. “I can’t believe Poodle. He’s usually so damn sweet, just like his dog. I’ve never seen him snap before.” Sarah’s feet patter softly as she speeds down the steps.
“Poodle?” Doc asks. “Is that what this is about? What happened with Poodle? He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s the kindest, funniest guy I’ve ever met. Literally, when we go to kill flies, he opens up every window to set them free. The guy is a saint.”