“He’s probably right in this instance, Jean,” I told her and she shook her head.
“No, he’s not,” she replied confidently. “You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, Tori. But this insistence you have on living this half-life,” she paused, twisting her mouth, “It doesn’t serve you well. You’re not dead, Tori, as much as you try to believe you are.”
“I know that,” I said defensively but she only shook her head.
“Knowing and understanding are two different things,” she advised. “And sleeping in the cemetery and the shop’s storage closet isn’t healthy. It’s been long enough, Tori. I want you to stay in the apartment. Sleep in a bed. Live like a normal person.”
“I’m not…it’s not that easy,” I muttered, as I scratched my nose trying to hide my sniffling.
“It is that easy. I need you to try for me, Tori. I need to know you’re gonna be okay.” There was a note of finality in her words that forced my scared gaze to meet hers. “No, I’m not planning on dying, Tori, but I swear to God I will play the sick old lady card if you make me.”
I glanced up at the ceiling, hating the dampness seeping into the corners of my eyes. “Since you put it that way, how can I refuse?”
“That’s my girl,” she replied, her tone implying she’d never thought there would be any other outcome. “Now, give me a hug.” I reached down, my long arms engulfing her as I felt her squeeze my middle. “Keep an eye on Jacob for me.”
“Shouldn’t that be the other way around?” I questioned, lifting one eyebrow.
“I know its really hard for you to believe, but I trust you, Tori. I believe in you.” She glanced away, licking her lip. “I have one more small little request.”
“Uh huh,” I answered doubtfully and she grinned impishly. “You need a kidney or something?” I questioned, having a feeling our definitions of ‘small’ request were very different.
“No, nothing that simple,” she retorted and I chuckled. “I want you to start tattooing again.”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head adamantly. “That’s a bad idea.”
“Or a step in the right direction,” she contended, ignoring my objections. “You have a client tomorrow at eight. They’re very loyal which is why I allow them to come afterhours.” She patted my cheek. “Be good, Tori.” She waved, escaping out the door as my mouth hung open.
Jacob poked his head in and seeing me, said, “Lock up, will you? There’s no appointments this afternoon since I have to take her to the airport.” I nodded mutely and he looked like he wanted to say something else, but just shook his head and slammed the door behind him.
“Great, just great,” I muttered to myself, as I twisted the deadbolt. I cleaned up the shop and went to the storage room, prepared to stay right there despite Jean’s request. I halted inside the door when I saw a set of keys lying on the cot. I recognized them instantly as hers, and they weren’t just to the apartment but the whole damn shop, including the cash safe. I covered my mouth, muttering, “Crazy, old woman. You shouldn’t trust me.”
I picked them up, fully intending to give them to Jacob the next morning, when I saw an unfamiliar keychain dangling with the keys.
“It’s not who makes you fall, it’s who picks you up.” I read aloud, closing my eyes as my fingers curled around the keys. Tears burned behind my eyelids but I didn’t allow them to fall. “If you can take a chance on me, you foolish woman,” I whispered, “Then I guess, I guess I can do the same.”
I reached for backpack, the one I never unpacked and lifted it to one shoulder, taking a last glance around the tiny storage space that had become mine. There was nothing to indicate I’d ever been there, not a single personal touch, and I suddenly regretted it. There was nothing I needed to pack because I’d never unpacked. I’d had no intention of staying. A fact Jean had seen right through.
I yanked the door shut behind me, standing there for a second as I fought to breath. The keys cut into my palm, leaving imprints, and I forced my fingers to loosen.
I stared at them, as a single thought became a chant in my head.
Stay or go.
Stay or go.
Stay or go.
The front door rattled, then someone banged on it. “Tori?” His voice knocked me out of my stupor and I hurried to the door to unlock it.
“You’re early,” I told him, cracking the door. “Miss me?”
“Like a venereal disease,” he replied, not smiling, a covered plate in his hand.
“In that case, you can come in.”
“Why is the door locked?” He questioned, glancing around. “I thought the shop would still be open.”
“Jean had to go out of town. Jacob took her to the airport. So they closed the shop.”
“Everything alright with Jean?”
I lifted one shoulder, shaking my head lightly. He arched an eyebrow and I said simply, “It’s not my story to tell.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed, understanding the right to privacy. He thrust the plate at me and I took it automatically. “Pot roast,” he informed me, one cheek creasing, “Without the company.”
I stared at it stupidly, the bottom of the plate warm under my hand. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a homemade meal, or really anything that hadn’t come from a can or a bag. “Uh, that’s…” I swallowed my instinct to say thoughtful, settling on an awkward, “Thanks.”
“Sloan fixed it. I’m just the delivery boy,” he answered, brushing it off. “She had leftovers.”
“With three guys?” I asked in disbelief and his mouth twitched.
“Pretty sure she made your plate first and hid it,” he finally answered, his gaze sweeping the room and avoiding me.
“Tell her thank you for me.” He didn’t look overly thrilled by the idea, but nodded briefly. “Um, would you like to go upstairs?” I gestured to the back, suddenly starving as the scent of gravy hit my nose.
“Uh, sure,” he agreed reluctantly and I headed for the stairs. When I got to them, I realized they might be difficult for Cord to navigate, but when I turned around, he motioned impatiently for me to go up. I knew better than to suggest he couldn’t make it so I headed up them.
I went straight to the table, setting the plate down and going to fix two glasses of iced tea. It had been over a year since I’d been in her apartment, but everything was still exactly the same.
“Whose apartment is this?” Cord questioned, when he made it up the stairs. His limp was a little more pronounced, but his expression dared me to say anything.
“I made you tea,” I told him, gesturing to the table. “And it’s Jean’s apartment. She offered to let me stay here while she’s at,” I almost said treatment, catching myself just in time. “Gone. While she’s gone.”
His eyes narrowed, but he just sat down, staring at the condensation already forming on the glass of iced tea. “Sweet?”
“Is there any other kind?” I replied, peeling off the foil covering my dinner. “Wow, this looks amazing.”
“Yeah, it is. Sloan’s a good cook. Brother got lucky.”
“She’s with Creed, right?” I asked, taking a bite.
“Yup.”
“You know her well?”
“Nope.”
He drained the glass of tea and I made to get up to get him more, but he shook his head. “Bathroom?” He asked instead and I pointed down the hall.
“Second door.”
He wasn’t gone long, but I’d practically inhaled the food. “Well, at least I can tell Sloan you cleaned your plate when she asks.” I smiled sheepishly, still debating if I wanted to lick the plate clean. “I won’t tell,” he added, watching me in amusement as I proceeded to lift the plate and lick every drop off it. When I was finished, I got up to wash it.
“How did you want to handle the meet with this guy?” I asked him over my shoulder, turning when he didn’t answer.
He stared at me in bemusement. “You’re asking me?”
“Well, I
know my part,” I replied. “You’re the wild card.”
“Watch and wait was my plan. You know what you’re doing. I doubt whoever you’re meeting with is the big fish.”
I shook my head. “Probably more like a low level dealer, but we can follow him after the meet.”
“You’re not going to beat him with a crowbar?” He asked dryly.
“Not planning to but the night is young.”
“You gonna ride with me? Or do I need to follow him alone?” He asked quietly, his tone completely lacking any kind of judgement as I clutched the edge of the sink. “Would it help if you drove?” He asked and I shook my head frantically. I heard the chair scrape but he didn’t get up, saying softly, “I served three tours. I recognize PTSD. I can follow him in Blazer, you can follow him on foot.” I licked my lips, staring at the water in the sink as it blurred, the oncoming glare of headlights reflecting back instead. “Tori.” His gentle touch on my arm caused me to jump and I blinked up at him. “You back?” I nodded, tugging my lower lip between my teeth. “We should probably get going.”
I nodded, then remembered, “Wait, I have something for you.” My fingers brushed over the sleeve of his jacket, but I didn’t allow them to linger. “Be right back.”
I went to the tiny coat closet, praying it was still there, and let out a sound of satisfaction when my fingers closed around the glossy wood. I pulled it out, smiling nostalgically when I saw the artwork. I hurried back to Cord, thrusting it at him. “Here. Technically, you can borrow it.”
“What is it?” He asked, accepting my gift gingerly.
“It’s a stick,” I said proudly, remembering the day I’d given it to Jean’s husband, Michael. He hadn’t been overly impressed either. “A walking stick.”
“A walking stick,” he repeated, eyeing it and me. “And you’re letting me borrow it?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I gave it to Jean’s husband a few years ago before he died. Like you, he didn’t think he needed a cane.”
“I don’t need a cane,” he replied quickly, his hand running over the top of the walking stick, his palm fitting over the head perfectly. “This is pretty badass though.”
“I painted it,” I said proudly and saw his shock. “I was an art student at the college before I got kicked out,” I explained, remembering the hours I’d spent on the walking stick, painting intricate patterns into it. “It’s even got the Rebel logo.” I pointed to the side and he lifted it so he could see.
“A damn good one,” he admired reluctantly. “You did this?”
“I did,” I answered and held up a finger. “Now, before you say no. This is a walking stick, not a cane. Ever heard the saying, Speak softly and carry a big stick?”
“I have,” he replied, setting it back on the ground. “Not entirely sure this is what Teddy Roosevelt meant when he said it.”
“Well, no he was discussing foreign policy, but really it applies to everything. The thing about this particular walking stick is that it has a titanium core.” He eyed it with new respect. “It’ll both support your heavy ass and whoop ass.”
“I’m sure there was a compliment in there,” he replied, curving his hand around the head of the walking stick. “It’s, um, it’s good.” He glanced at me. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “You’re welcome,” I said, the words coming out stilted. “We should go.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we should.”
***
“They might be watching the alley,” I murmured, as we walked side by side toward the back of the barber shop.
“Yeah, I should probably wait around the corner,” Cord suggested, his stride a little steadier with the walking stick. “We should come up with a code word if you need help.”
“Crowbar?” I proposed and he held back a grin, shaking his head. “Rebel?”
“Are you trying to get us made?”
“Well, if I need a code word because I’m in trouble, does it really matter at that point?” I reasoned and he rolled his shoulders.
“Probably not,” he admitted. “I really want to ID this guy.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. This basically a meet and greet. He’s not going to have anything on him in case I am some type of undercover agent.”
“Which you are,” Cord replied, watching me. “You’re taking a risk doing this. If he figures out…”
“He won’t,” I reassured him. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, its being strung out and desperate.” I pushed my thumb in the corner of my eye as I told him, “He’s gonna want something in return for his time.”
“Money?”
Creed reached in his pocket and I shook my head, staying his hand. “No,” I answered, catching his eye. “More like an exchange of favors.” I knew when he got my meaning because his face grew dark and he loomed over me.
“No,” he said flatly, shaking his head. “Absofuckingloutely not.”
“Chill, okay?”
“Chill? Did you just tell me this douche is gonna want a blow job or worse and then tell me to chill?” He shook his head, raising his walking stick. “That’s not gonna happen. Understand?”
“Yeah, I’m not planning on giving any favors tonight,” I replied, rolling my eyes and he just glared. “I’m telling you because I know you’ll be watching and I need you to not flip out.”
“I’m not flipping out,” he denied, shifting away from me.
“Okaaaay,” I drawled doubtfully. “Either way. You know now, so let me handle it.”
“You can handle it without a crowbar?”
I sucked air through my teeth. “You’d be surprised what I can handle…with or without a crowbar.”
Raised voices interrupted us and we both glanced toward the alley where I was supposed to meet the dealer.
“I thought warned you about roughing her up.” My brow wrinkled when I heard the man, something about his voice sounded familiar.
“Clutch,” Cord murmured next to me and my expression cleared. “Let’s get closer.”
“It ain’t your business what me and my old lady do,” someone else answered. “You pathetic coming sniffing around Ronnie. She ain’t say nothing against me.”
“She doesn’t have too,” Clutch responded. “I see bruises on her. I put bruises on you. Period. I ever see bruises on Kara?” There was a long pause. “Well, I’ll dig that hole so deep only the devil will ever find you.”
“Stay the fuck away from me,” the other man blustered, full of false bravado. “Ronnie loves me. You’d never hurt her.”
“The only one hurting her is you, you fucking weasel.” A loud crash met our ears. “I can’t wait for the day she realizes it.” Another bang. “And she will. You’ll fuck up so bad that she’ll see how big a loser you are and she’ll walk away without a second glance.”
“And you think she’ll run to you?”
“Yeah,” Clutch replied. “I know she will.”
Another crash, this time accompanied by the sound of something metal rolling and then footsteps. Cord yanked on my arm and we ducked behind a dumpster. I peeked around the side in time to see Clutch disappear around the corner.
I made to stand up, but Cord held on to me, shaking his head. I shot him an inquisitive glance and he motioned for me to come closer. “Wait, see if anyone else comes.”
“Shouldn’t I go meet this guy?”
“No, if he’s our guy. I know exactly who he is,” Cord whispered, his breath fluttering the strands that had come loose from my braid. “No point in tipping our hand.”
“You think this guy is our guy then?”
Cord exhaled. “Let’s just say, it would make a lot of sense.” We edged toward the alley, glimpsing the guy pacing behind the door of the barber shop, a cigarette clenched between his fingers as he mumbled to himself.
“Definitely fits the dealer type.”
“Yeah, leopards definitely don’t change their spots,” Cord muttered, his expression hard. “Is it past the meeting time?”
“Stupid cunt,” the other guy shouted, tossing down his cigarette as he rubbed himself. “Can’t trust a drug whore.”
“You really can’t,” I whispered, my lip curling in disgust as I watched him jerk off. “I don’t know who Ronnie is, but why the hell is she with him?”
“Because she always had a thing for the bad boys,” Cord answered, standing up so fast I almost fell over. “Stay here.”
I wanted to protest the order but he was already walking down the alley and all I could do was watch.
“Get it good, Robbo,” he mocked and the guy, Robbo, froze, his face whitening as he registered who spoke.
“Cor-Cord,” he stammered. “You’re back.”
A slight moue marred Cord’s face. “It appears so.”
“Why are you here?” Robbo slipped his hand from his pants, trying to surreptitiously slide it behind his back.
“I wouldn’t,” Cord said dangerously. “We both know where that hand has been.”
“Ah, man, it’s just….I’ve changed, ya know? Got a kid now,” Robbo stammered, edging backwards as Cord got closer. “I’m on the straight and narrow.”
“Really?”
The guy nodded so fast I thought his head might fall off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m with Ronnie. She got this shop and I help her run it. All legit.”
“I’m really glad to hear that, Rob. Because I’d hate to hear you got back into dealing. Ruining lives. Killing babies.” Rob blanched as Cord came closer. He’d backed himself into a corner and the fury radiating off of Cord made me want to hide. “I’m really glad you’re still alive, Rob.” Rob whimpered and a second later I knew why as a sharp crack broke through the air. “You can’t punish a dead man.”
A scream pierced the night as Cord brought the walking stick down again. And again. And again.
I rushed down the alley, grabbing his arm as he was about to bring it down again. “Stop,” I cried. “You don’t get answers from a dead man.” He fought me for a minute, but he was off balance because of his leg and I won, barely. “Let me,” I hissed and he relented, dropping his arm so he could lean on the walking stick.
Outcast (Southern Rebels MC Book 2) Page 11