by R. J. Lewis
“I’m not going anywhere until I see his fucking face.”
“You wouldn’t like seeing his face, Paul. He’s different than you remember.”
“He’s a little pussy, isn’t he?”
If he only knew how wrong he was.
“Get. Off.” I growled now, staring daggers into his red face. “I’m giving you one more chance, Paul, before I start making calls.”
His beady eyes met mine and he looked smug. “Suddenly got a spine now, Charlotte?”
Ah, so he thought I was still that frightened girl from before? Fucker didn’t know me at all.
I enunciated my words slowly as my glare deepened. “Fuck. Off. My. Porch.”
He smiled lazily. “How long do you think the cops are gonna take to come answering, Charlotte?”
I gave him a twisted smile of my own. “Who says I’ll be calling the cops?”
He just stared at me.
Taking another step closer, I hissed, “Do you think Max Locke will like hearing you’ve been coming around, terrorizing me?”
“I didn’t come here for you,” he retorted, defensively. His tone changed completely. He looked uncertain and, there it was again, shocked. “You know that, too.”
“Oh, but that’s not true.” I changed my tone, pretended to play the victim as I cried, “Mr Locke, I’m scared he’s going to hurt me! Please, Locke, please save me before he beats my door down!”
Paul’s face fell. “You know I didn’t come here for you.”
I kept my smile cool as I replied evenly, “You want to explain that to Locke himself? Who do you think he’ll believe, Paul? You…or me?”
Paul’s expression went flat now as he took a staggered step back, like I was suddenly made of fire and I might burn him.
“This is about Thames.”
“Like I said before, you don’t want to see him now, Paul. He’s not like you remember.”
“This town will want him gone, Charlotte,” he told me. “We don’t take kindly to murderers.”
“Kind of the wrong town to be in then,” I said, flatly.
His face twisted. He looked like he was about to bite my head off again before he froze still, his gaze now trapped to the front door. I looked back and felt my stomach twist. Conor stood in the doorway, nothing but a towel wrapped around his narrow hips. Skin flushed red and wet, his hair was soaked and soapy, his lips were pressed firmly shut. With nostrils flared, his face was cold to the bone as his eyes bore into Paul’s.
He looked terrifying.
“What’s going on out here?” he demanded slowly.
There was no response.
By the time I was looking back at Paul, he was walking briskly to his truck parked on the side of the road with the most spooked look. I warned him, didn’t I? Did he think Conor was going to be any less menacing than he was before? If anything, he was more menacing than ever, even in just his towel. Paul practically soared into his seat, even Mom was agape at the sight of Conor. Moments later the car took off down the street, wheels screeching the whole way.
I ducked my head the second I saw heads poke out of neighbouring homes. I was sure they’d heard the whole altercation. Everyone would know with certainty now that Conor was inside my house. My skin flushed from the attention, but I refused to budge or hurry inside. I simply turned around and met Conor’s eye. We stared at each other for a few moments. I knew something was wrong by the way his shoulders slumped. He turned and disappeared back inside. I went in after him, catching him just as he collapsed on the staircase steps, looking vacantly down at his scarred hands.
“Hey,” I said, stopping in front of him. I ran my fingers through his wet hair, noticing there was still shampoo residue from him rushing out of the shower.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me to him as he buried his face into my stomach.
“I think being here is going to be a problem,” he whispered, finally pulling away to look up at me with those pulsating blue eyes.
“I think everyone can mind their own business,” I replied firmly.
“I still have that room at the motel Locke dropped me off at.”
My heart jumped in my chest. I gave him a hard look. “Don’t talk like that.”
“I don’t want to bring any more trouble into your life, especially with Penny around.”
“What’s the solution then?” I quirked a brow, challenging him. “You want to leave the house – no, actually, the town because clearly it isn’t just the matter of being in the house that’s the issue – all to appease a few assholes who want to rustle our nest?”
He answered swiftly, “I don’t want to go anywhere, Charlotte.”
I paused, savouring the way he said those words, spoken right from the soul. Stark honesty, that tone soft, a delicate caress on my skin. I lost my balance for a moment because it was so unusual to hear words laced with that much soul directed at me. I supposed he wasn’t the only one getting used to the changes happening around him.
Eventually, I found my voice, softly telling him, “Don’t talk about being a problem, Conor, because you’re not.”
“I’m the black sheep.”
“And they love that,” I cut in quickly before he started to talk himself into leaving the house. “They always have someone to pick on, but that’s not the whole town speaking, Conor. It’s a bunch of these redneck jerks who think they’re behaving in the name of vigilante justice, but they’re bored and pathetic and they’ll move on to other things. You’re not going anywhere. We’ll weather this storm together. I don’t care if a million of them show up at the door. I didn’t wait eight years just to see you driven out of our house by a bunch of Blackwater junkie morons.”
His lips bunched up to one side. “So fiery, dove.”
My face hardened. “I had to be, Conor. Blackwater either drives you out with your tail between your legs or forces you to toughen up.”
“It does have that tendency.”
I nodded. “Then I need you to stand your ground. You’re a Blackwater boy. You never took anyone’s shit.”
“I still don’t.”
“Then we fight back…but we do it the right way.”
“With the law on our side?”
“Fuck the law. We do it the way Jem Wright’s done it.”
Now Conor smirked up at me, his eyes glowing. “By manipulating the law?”
“By being smart.”
He nodded slowly. Gripping my hips now, he pulled me down so that I was spread out and sitting in his lap. I dropped my head down to his and watched him think.
“You don’t have to worry,” he assured me. “I’m not going to fuck this up, Char.”
“I know,” I replied cheekily. “You’d have run out of the house and bashed Paul’s head in otherwise.”
He wasn’t amused. “I’m not that man anymore.”
I ran my finger along his profile, stopping at his soft lips, murmuring, “What sort of man are you now, Conor?”
He kissed my finger and looked away from me. “I don’t know, dove. I don’t know.”
I caught the ache in his expression, the conflict in his eyes as he looked down at my mouth. Anything to keep from meeting my eye.
“All I know is I want you,” he whispered. “I’ll never not want you, Charlotte. It’s all that keeps me going, knowing I have you and Penny, to come out of that hell with a chance at starting over again and doing things right. I just…I don’t know how to get there, baby. I need your help. I need you to guide me when up is down and nothing makes sense.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“You’ll never leave?”
“Never. I’m here,” I declared, gravely. “I’m not going anywhere. Everything will be okay. The worst is over.”
He stiffened a nod.
In that moment I didn’t know if I was reassuring him, or myself.
News spread like wildfire.
Paul had made sure to let every hillbilly know of Conor’s return.
> As Conor sat with Penny in the living room putting together a puzzle, I stood by the entrance window of the front room, peering out through the blinds and at the bustling activity. I frequently saw a car pass by, windows down, heads turned in the house’s direction. At some point, a red truck had stopped completely in front of the house and sat idle for minutes. It admittedly unnerved me.
I clutched the phone tight in one hand, tapping it against my chin.
I’d messaged Locke a few times, letting him know what was happening. As time went on, he never answered, and I felt beyond frustrated. When he counted on me, I was always there, but now that I needed him, he had gone AWOL?
Unable to stop myself, I wound up texting Jem next. Jem wasn’t the type to show up and start trouble or anything, but he wouldn’t do nothing either.
His response was immediate.
I’m on the way now with Megan. Keep your door locked. Paul’s got a big mouth and a bunch of drink buddies who’ll want to play hero. If he wants to put together a posse, he will. In the meantime, keep me updated and hold tight.
While it comforted me to know Jem was coming, I still felt uneasy. I paced the house, smiling hesitantly at Conor when he met my eye from the living room as I went by. He didn’t smile back. His gaze lingered on me heavily which prompted me to stay away from him. If he sensed my unease, he might bolt for the motel and make sure the crowd followed him there.
I sent another text to Locke, pleading this time.
Please, Locke, I may need you.
He didn’t answer.
Chapter Twelve
Thames
Thames learned the value of numbers. One was stamped on his wrist, for example. He knew from prison that if you were a loner, it didn’t matter how big you were, you were fucked if you weren’t surrounded by others.
He knew Paul skittered away this morning because the sight of Thames had scared him off. But that fear would have eased as the hours bled by, replaced by fury and humiliation. He was going to round up a bunch of men, cowardly men with big chips on their shoulders, and he was going to return and try and provoke a response out of Thames.
Thames knew that was all this was. They wanted to send him back to prison. They wanted him violent and fighting.
He should have known this was coming.
He should have realized that years in Blackwater of picking fights and running the show was going to result in backlash. He’d returned and secreted himself in this house and had no one in his corner, and they saw him as easy prey. They were confident he wouldn’t be able to hold back the second he was provoked. They wanted him back in cuffs.
But as Thames stared at Penny’s little face next to him, concentrated and angelic as she spun her pieces around and tried fitting them in the puzzle, he sensed those days were behind him. The violent itch wasn’t there. Not when he had so much to lose. Not when he remembered the feeling of loss and anguish when she came into this world and he was desperate not to taint her with his touch.
Her life started the second another life ended.
He would not make the same mistake again, no matter the thrill that came from expelling all that energy zipping through his bloodstream.
It was hard, though. It really was. It was hard getting up every single morning and forgetting there wasn’t always a target on you. He’d lived with the stress for almost eight years. It had become an extension of him, and now he had to shake that feeling and he didn’t know how.
How do you learn to feel safe when you spend so many years trying to survive? He didn’t believe it. He kept thinking there was something ugly hidden around the corner. Any moment, all of this – everything he yearned to have – would be ripped from him again, and he wouldn’t survive that the second time around.
“Tell me a good memory,” he said to Penny right then, watching her intently, surprised by the desperation bleeding out of him.
Penny didn’t catch on to his fear. He brown eyes darted to him, and smiling, she tapped her chin in thought. “What kind of memory?”
“What did you do for your birthday?”
Her face lit up now. “Mom, Grandma and Uncle Jem took me to the zoo. Kane was there and we ate ice cream in front of the elephant exhibit. I had a birthday pin right here.” She pointed to her chest. “And in my pocket was a picture of you and mommy. She said every time I thought of you, I could just pull it out and you’d be there with me. I pulled it out a lot, Daddy.”
Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to ask right now. Thames didn’t expect that emotion dump. He swallowed through the thickness in his throat. He had the sudden urge to find Charlotte, and to pin her down and kiss the fucking shit out of her. Instead, he brought his forehead to Penny’s and breathed her in.
“You have no idea how that makes me feel,” he told her solemnly. “I want to go there with you, Penny.”
She smiled brightly. “When?”
His smile was faint. “Soon.”
“Hey, Dad?” she murmured now, a curious look on her face.
“Hmm?”
“What was prison like?”
He spun a puzzle piece around, staring down at it thoughtfully. “See what I’m doing with this piece?”
“Yes.”
“Kind of like that.”
“Like spinning around in circles?”
He laughed lightly. “Yeah.”
Instead of questioning him some more, she replied next, “Can we do something else now?”
He smirked, tossing the puzzle piece into the box. “Let me guess. You want to show me your world on that pixel game you got?”
Looking sheepish, she shrugged. “Only if you want to.”
“I want to, beauty.”
Interrupting them, he heard the sound of the front door opening and a flood of familiar voices. His body went stiff and that same stressful feeling in him returned.
If they were here, it only meant one thing.
Trouble was on the other side of that door.
Charlotte
Megan entered the house, throwing her purse down on the staircase. Jem followed behind her, looking tired like he’d come straight from his bar; he smelled like it, too.
“There are cars all down the street!” Megan seethed. “Those assholes are just eyeing the house. This is not right. Conor does not need this!”
“Alright, alright,” Jem’s voice cut in as he shut the door behind him. “We’re here. We’ll take care of it.”
Megan looked at me. “Where is he?”
“In the living room,” I answered, trying to keep my voice calm. Noise travelled. I was sure Conor was hearing Megan’s commotion. “He’s with Penny. Please, be calm.”
Megan realized her mistake and took a moment to shut her eyes and breathe slowly through her nose. But when her eyes opened, I saw how misted they looked. She wasn’t just angry; she was sad, too.
“This isn’t right,” she whispered to me. “Your stepbrother was a cruel piece of work. It isn’t like Conor killed some choir boy from church.”
“This isn’t about Billy,” Jem cut in. “This is deeper than that, Megan. Everyone beckoned to Conor. He ran the roost, was impulsive, and as a result did a lot of damage back in the day. He made enemies. They’re just trying to make a statement right now. They’re not afraid of him anymore. Absence dulls fear.”
She made a sound of disgust. “I’ll be damned if they try and drive him out of town.”
“They’re not trying to drive him out of town,” Jem corrected.
I frowned, realizing the sick truth. “They’re trying to provoke him. They want him lashing out.”
“They want to send my boy back to prison?” When Megan saw the answer in our faces, her lips parted with incredulity. “This isn’t right.”
As she continued raging on about how not right it was, Jem was already dialling numbers and murmuring into the phone with his back to us. I approached the window again, noticing now that there were more cars than ever before on this block and men were out
now, circling about and exchanging conversation with one another. The commotion outside had driven the residents indoors. The setting was ominous. The wind howled, the leaves shook off the trees, and the mid-afternoon sun was hidden behind dark clouds, threatening to burst forth with rain any second.
I turned away from the window. “We can’t let him out, no matter what.”
Jem turned around to face me, the phone still to his ear. “It won’t come to that.”
I tilted my head in the direction of the window. “A crowd of them are starting to form. They’ll be screaming for him to show himself.”
Megan’s hands were shaking now. “We’ll phone the police.”
Even I heard the sound of doubt in her voice. They would take hours to come, especially if they were answering on behalf of Conor Thames. Neither Jem nor I had the heart to correct her.
Looking anguished, she turned away and trudged out of the room and to the living room where her son was. I wanted to follow, but I couldn’t deny the pull I felt to the window, to the mob beginning to form.
“I’ll take care of this,” Jem suddenly promised me. “Don’t worry, Char, I’m calling our guys over. You should go and comfort Megan and be there with Penny and Conor. They’ll need you –”
He cut himself short, catching sight of Conor coming into the room in his usual sweats and tight white tank. Jem looked him over, looking equally enamoured by the changes he could see in him. Jem, who was bigger than your average guy, looked puny next to him.
Collecting himself, he appeared friendly, giving Conor a reassuring smile, “Hey, man.”
Not responding straightaway, Conor walked past him and to the window where I stood. Not bothering to be discreet, he spread the blinds apart and peered out.
“Conor,” I whispered, watching his expression closely.
“They want to see me,” he said quietly. “That’s what this is.”
Alarm spiked through me. “Don’t confront them.”
He turned his gaze to me. “What are you afraid will happen if I do, dove?”
He could see the answer written on my face. I was scared there’d be conflict. I didn’t want trouble, and I didn’t know how he was going to react if a bunch of them stood in front of the house, cursing at him or, worse, at me. He used to have so many triggers, and I didn’t want him to be tested so soon.
