by A. M. Wilson
Blunt.
Rigid and cold.
I hold anger like a shroud.
And I sure as fuck don’t know how to whisper sweet nothings.
Yet ... there’s something there.
Something soft and warm. Comforting. Something that helps whisk away my own demons. Molly. Pop. It makes me forget my own horrors. Healed me from the drugs and booze.
That something is Shelby. One hundred fuckin’ percent all her. And as much as I tell myself she deserves better, the truth of the matter is I don’t deserve her. Not one iota.
Inside me, I crave her goodness. One kiss blasted my defenses into a million pieces. But we both know I’m not made of good stuff. I’m not the man she needs to get through her own demons.
A knock on the door interrupts my self-loathing, and I run a hand down my tired face. On the other side of the door is Elias, holding the manila folder I asked him to bring over.
“Yo,” I grunt and reach for the papers he holds out to me.
I don’t miss the glance he spears across the open space. “All good?” His tone is cautious, probably always will be when it comes to Shelby. I know he’s seen the change in us the past couple of weeks. He trusts me with her. Something he couldn’t do in the beginning.
“Yeah.” I shut the door behind him and resume my place on the couch. “Rough afternoon. Thanks for picking this up.”
Elias looks at my closed bedroom door. He lounges on the couch beside me and rests his right ankle on his left knee. “Not a problem. Anything I should know about?” He nods his head toward the folder in my lap.
“Insurance shit. From Pop’s place. I haven’t had a chance to look at it, but I’m probably going to be shit outta luck on the claims seein’ as I don’t have that first fuckin’ clue what possessions he had. No way to verify either seein’ as everything went up in flames.”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“Yeah.”
“Want to talk about what happened today?” His eyes tense a bit as though he wants to say more or demand answers from me, but he locks it down.
I blow out a sigh. “Man. It’s two steps forward, three steps back.”
“How so?”
I tilt my head to the side to see him better. “We were makin’ progress today. Talked some shit out. Went to the store because she’s finally starting to put on weight. Out in public, she was amazing. Incredible even. Facin’ those fears and lockin’ them down tight. And then I remembered the papers.” I lift said papers and toss them on the coffee table. “Decided to cut through downtown and she lost it. I pulled over until she was calm and reassured her that we’d just drive through. Pushed her, like I always do. And she was doing so well. Until she wasn’t.” I scrub a hand down my face in frustration.
“What went wrong?” he asks, mirroring my position with a hand on his chin.
“She saw someone she knew. A friend.”
“Like from before?” His voice is low. Cautious.
“No. A prostitute. And suddenly, she was repulsed in herself for leaving them and begging me to stop the car. What I could not do is stop the fuckin’ car. Someone could have seen her. I want those fuckers to believe she died on my doorstep that day.”
Elias stands and runs a hand over his hair in frustration. “Do you have a plan?”
I hesitate. It goes to show how well he knows me, truly knows me, to insinuate I have a plan. He may have formed it like a question, but it doesn’t escape me he’s only asking because he knows I do. Or I’m trying to formulate one. Which is why I give him the truth.
“Not yet. It took all my control not to grab her, and if Shel hadn’t been in the car, I would have tried it. It goes without sayin’ that I can’t not help this girl, especially after how bad Shelby reacted. She blames herself, which is fucked up. She doesn’t deserve to feel that guilt now that she’s free. If it means risking more to save her friends and bring her to a place of contentment, then sign me the fuck up.”
“Brother.” Elias hesitates but for a moment. “Even the best-thought-out plans can fail. We’ve experienced it. Neither one of us could have anticipated what happened with your dad. That said, the worst thing you can do right now is rush into this half-cocked because you care about Shelby’s feelings.”
I shoot him a glare. “It’s not just her fuckin’ feelings I care about.”
“Yeah,” he mutters but says no more.
“We know the police can’t help. They try, but it’s not every day they’re out chasing these bastards and rescuing these girls. I have myself, and I have Richard if things get messy.”
“You’ve got me too.” He spears me with a glare. “Don’t try the hero bullshit and cut me out. You know I’m right there with you. I have been since the beginning.”
An earlier conversation with Richard comes back to me. “I know. But you might want to think about where it is I’m leading you and the life you could be living if it weren’t for me and my bullshit. And I’d never fault you for walkin’ away.”
“I’m not walking away,” he half shouts back at me, seriously ticked at my suggestion.
“All I’m sayin’ is you can think about it and not feel bad about steppin’ back.”
“And all I’m saying is if you don’t shut the fuck up about it, it’s going to be hard not to plant my fist in your face.”
That gets a smirk out of me. I raise my hands. “All right. Backin’ down.”
“That’d be appreciated. We’ve cleared that up, any ideas how to move forward?”
“Yeah, but it’s not a good one.”
Elias stands up and starts pacing in front of the coffee table. “Shoot.”
“Pose as a john and take her.”
His head snaps up. “You mean kidnapping?”
I distractedly stroke my beard. “I believe the term is rescuing.”
“No, it’s most definitely kidnapping.”
“Can you kidnap someone who’s already been kidnapped?”
“This really isn’t a funny scenario.”
I drop my elbows to my knees and lace my fingers in the empty space between them. “It’s not. I’m also not about to go introduce myself to her and ask if she’d like to be rescued all without ending up with a bullet in my brain. If we have to kidnap her, and I use that term loosely, from her kidnappers, then sign me the fuck up.”
I hear Elias sigh even though both his palms are covering his face. “Say we do this your way, and I’m not necessarily saying that’s the best way, but say we do it, how are we going about it and making sure we grab the right girl?”
“Honestly, I’d be fine even if we grabbed the wrong girl. One less person in the clutches of a very bad dude.”
“I don’t want her anywhere near this shit, but I think we’d have to bring Shelby along—”
“No.”
“Sin, we need someone who knows—”
“No.”
His voice lowers. “You know she’s going to want to be there. She may be the only person who can convince this girl we’re safe.”
“You didn’t see her,” I nearly whisper; my voice is so gritty. “I can’t push her to do that again.”
“You might not have to push her if she knows what’s going on.”
My head snaps up to look him in the eyes. “I’ll ask her, but that’s it. She says the word, and she stays home with you. Solo mission, if need be. I’ve already seen what the girl looks like.”
If Shelby wants to come, it’ll go like this. Two vehicles. We can get one used. Shelby and I in one, you in the other. We’ll scope her out, and you pose as the john. We’ll drive around the corner and wait for you to say you’ve got her. Meet up at a nearby location so Shelby can calm her ass down from thinkin’ she’s been kidnapped—again. Same process we went through with Shelby. We’ll loop Richard in and have a doctor on standby. If we do this, and I’ll say now that I’m all in to do this, it’s going to be a bumpy ride. The withdrawals, the trust, the nightmares. We’ll have a familiar face for this girl at least, but th
at might not make it much easier. It’s still going to be nasty as all fuck hanging her demons out to dry.”
“If we all get out of this alive, then we’re a bunch of lucky fucks because that is the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”
“Wasn’t it just you who said even the best plans can fail?”
Elias crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah, but this plan has fail written all over it.”
“We can go back to the solo mission, and you stay here with Shel.”
He scoffs. “And let you get yourself killed? No thanks. I’m in. I’ve always been in, and if you’d stop insinuating I’m not, that’d be great.”
I give him a smirk. “So touchy.”
“Idiot,” he mutters weakly.
The truth is, I’m damned grateful he’s on my side, and he knows it. I’d probably be dead without him.
“I don’t have a timeframe yet, but I want to move fairly quickly. The less this can weigh on Shelby’s mind, the better.”
“Talk to her. See if she can remember anything about a schedule or how they coordinated. If we can glean any useful info from her, it could help.”
I nod. “I will first thing tomorrow. She doesn’t need any more of this tonight. If we can gather enough information, we could move soon. Quick in and out.”
“That’s the hope, brother.”
“I’ll let you know when I know something.”
Elias gives a short jerk of his head. “I’ll get out of here. Talk tomorrow.”
“Yeah, later, man.”
He lets himself out of my apartment, and I cross the space to lock up behind him, my mind churning through our plan.
Our last plan went to shit nearly as soon as it started. This one is different. We aren’t entering the devil’s layer. We’ll be out on public streets. In the open. Shot spotters would bring the police in minutes if anyone opened fire. Even though that might be too late for whoever’s being shot at, it could bring a stop to Gutierrez or some of his men. And that’s a risk I’m willing to take.
I never went this route with my search for Molly. It crossed my mind a time or two to start picking up prostitutes and demanding information, but every time I got close to making a move, I retreated a step. I was worried it’d tip them off someone was sniffing around their operation, and more girls would end up dead.
It’s well past time that I accept Molly is gone, and she’s not coming back. I don’t have to fear my actions will get her killed because it’s already happened. I have to live with it every remaining day of my life. And if we save this friend of Shelby’s, she’s not going to be returned for the Gutierrez men to beat and torture for information. She’ll be with us and on the road to recovery. And who knows? Maybe we can save a few more before they cotton on to what’s happening, and we have to change our strategy. If it means bringing peace to Shelby and getting her friends out of harm’s way, I’m willing to try.
A noise sounds from my room, loud enough I can hear it through the closed door. Shelby must be having another nightmare. She hasn’t had one recently, but after the events of today, I’m not at all surprised her mind would turn on her once more. All the exhaustion fades as alertness takes its place, and I make my way quickly across the room. Another one, a somewhat frustrated sounding, “Arrggghhh,” louder than the last, reaches my ears just as I swing open my bedroom door.
“Blossom?” I call into the darkness.
The ball beneath my comforter shifts restlessly but she doesn’t respond to me. Instead she moans, “Noooo.”
“Shelby, it’s me.” I slowly approach the side of the bed and sit next to her. She’s tucked into a fetal position nearly covered from hair to toes with my blanket. I can just make out her nose and eyes peeking out from beneath, though her eyes are squeezed tightly shut.
“Go-go away,” she stutters on a painful breath.
I ignore that. “You’re not having a bad dream?”
“No, I’m not sleeping. Haven’t been for a while,” she wheezes.
“What’s wrong?” I demand, gently removing the cover from her neck so I can check her over. “Are you hurt?”
She shifts again. “It’s nothing I, arrgghh, can’t handle.”
“Bullshit, blossom, your pillow is damp with sweat. What hurts?”
“My stomach.” She gasps, her hands clutching her abdomen. “But it’s … it’s normal for me.”
My eyes roam her body again, and my hands flutter uselessly above her. I’m strung tight with the need to do something to help. “Tell me what you need.”
“Nothing, Alex. I don’t need anything—ahh.”
Fuck this.
In a fluid movement, she’s up in my arms, and I’m swinging us both into the bed. Resting my back against the pillows, head against the headboard, I settle her curled up form in my lap. Her ass nestles against my groin, and my thighs and chest are just large enough to cocoon her there. I swing the blanket up over both of us and use my hand to press deep circles into her lower back.
“Tell me what helps,” I beg in her ear as her body trembles in my grip.
“That feels good,” she mumbles as she arches into my hand.
I keep up the motion and some of her trembling stills.
I can’t ignore the way her head fits snugly beneath my chin or that she’s the perfect size to fit in my arms.
Her fingers comb through the base of my beard and tickle my neck. I have to fight my body’s natural response to having her tucked in so close and touching me in that innocent way she does.
“Talk to me, blossom.”
She shakes her head against me and continues stroking.
I tense my arms around her. “Talk to me. Don’t shut down on me now. Not after all the progress you’ve made. I know you’ve already had a shit day—”
“It’s not that,” she interrupts.
“What is it, then?”
“I don’t want to think about it.”
“You are thinkin’ about it, though. If your pain is related to your life before, then every time it strikes it’s makin’ you think about it.”
She shifts. “Then I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, too bad,” I growl, doing a shit job at hiding my frustration. “You’re in pain, and not the mental kind. Physical, real pain that I may be able to help you do something about if you weren’t bein’ damn stubborn all of a sudden. Let me help you.”
“You can’t,” she fires back.
I stroke my fingers down the bare skin of her arm. “Please,” I beg on a whisper.
Her head tips back, those fingers sifting through the coarse strands at my chin, curling and flexing against my face, and her gorgeous eyes peer into mine with a mixture of curiosity and dread.
She doesn’t release my stare as she shares, “A year or two ago. That’s when it started. The men weren’t usually gentle.”
My body locks as her words register. Keep it together Sin, plays in my head on repeat. Hearing her voice aloud some of the horror she’s been through, and that’s still fucking affecting her, sends rage flaming through my body. I’m suddenly hot and sweating with the effort to hold it together when all I really want is to tear something apart with my bare hands. It physically hurts to look in her eyes as she shares this, but I can’t make myself turn away. She’s stripping herself bare for me.
I have to swallow twice to clear the lump in my throat. “We need to take you to a doctor. Tonight. I’m taking you to the emergency room.”
That strength in her eye wilts into fear. She pulls her hand from my beard and plants them in my chest as leverage to push away. “What? No. We aren’t going anywhere.”
I watch cautiously as her gaze darts around the room. I don’t know if she’s looking for a weapon or an exit, but she isn’t going to find much of either here.
“You’re lyin’ in my bed writhing in pain, and you don’t want to go to a doctor? What if there’s an easy fix? You’d rather sit here and suffer?”
She turns back to me, sendi
ng her hair flying out behind her. “I’d rather not be seen by someone who knows me!”
“And I’d rather not watch you struggling to take a deep breath because it hurts so fuckin’ bad.”
“Then leave!” she cries.
That flat-out pisses me off.
“I will never leave you,” I growl. “Haven’t I shown you that? I’m by your side if we’re outside this apartment, and if we’re not, I’m merely steps away. Goin’ to the doctor is no different, blossom. I won’t be steps away. I’ll be right there, holdin’ your hand until you decide it’s time to let go of mine. The only person capable of leaving here is you, and when you decide that time has come, I’ll let you go. Until then, I’m here, and I’m takin’ care of you, which means you’re going to get yourself checked out.”
Her face changes from hysteria to one of confusion. “Why would you say that?”
I get up from the bed and busy myself with finding her some decent clothes to wear outside rather than the long tee she has on for sleep. “I don’t have time to rehash everything I just said. You got a question, then spit it out.”
“Fine,” she sasses, and the heat in her voice makes my lips twitch. Even during a full-blown argument, she can make me smile. “Why do you think I’ll leave?”
The urge to smile vanishes. “Not now, but you will. When you’re all put back together.”
“What more needs to be put back together?”
“Someday, maybe not tomorrow, but in the future, you’re going to want to find your family. And it’ll shred me, but when you go back to them, you won’t need me.” I finally find the bag of clothes we bought that day in the closet and yank out a pair of jeans and a shirt. I turn and toss them on the bed, avoiding looking her in the eye after the truth I let myself share.
Movement has me turning my head to her, and I find her kneeling on my bed, arms out at her sides, palms facing me. Her hair is a glorious cascade down her shoulders and arms, a mixture of bedhead and just Shelby. I’ve never seen her more beautiful than in that simple tee. “What about me, about what you see right here, says that’ll happen? What have I done to make you think I’d want to leave you?”
“You might not want to, but you will. They’ll want you back.”
