by Sabre Rose
“Nonsense.” He sits himself down on the chair beside the bed. “It was my fault. I got carried away in the nostalgia of it all. Reminded me too much of the first girl I ever wanted. She was a local too, did I ever tell you that?”
I shake my head, his words thumping through my brain, his voice too deep, too invading. I don’t give a fuck about his girls. I want to know if Mia is okay, if she managed to get out, if she escaped him and his son.
“That turned into a shit show too.” He lifts one leg and hooks his ankle over the knee of the other. “I shouldn’t have asked it of you. It was too much to expect of you with no training, no experience. I shouldn’t have listened to the boy. I should have let Marcel handle her. It was my fault.”
Senior never admits fault. Something is off. Strange. Maybe it’s just left-over anesthetic from the surgery making me hear things. I test my shoulder gingerly, attempting to rotate it but pain slices through me, silencing my efforts.
“But that’s all over now.” He pats the sling holding my arm in place awkwardly. “You’ll need a bit of time to recover from this.” He chuckles again. “She’s got some fight in her, I’ll give her that. Junior sure knows how to pick them. The bitch has cost me a lot. First Marcel and now you.”
I want to ask about Mia again but too much interest will only be suspicious. “I’ll be back at work in no time.”
The nurse walks in with a doctor in tow. I turn back to Senior as they consult my notes. “Tell Junior thanks from me. He possibly saved my life. I would have been lying there for a long time if he didn’t turn up when he did.”
“No need for thanks. You’re like part of the family, Ryker. We look after our own.”
Until you decide they’re not your own anymore, I want to say, but just grimace a smile instead. Junior had taken his fucking time to call his father. He stood there and just stared at me helpless on the floor for a long time. I could see the thoughts racing through his mind. I know he considered walking away and leaving me and I’m still not sure what made him call his father. Maybe it was because I was so pathetic, lying there on the floor unable to move and he took pity on me. Maybe it was because I agreed never to go near her again. Junior knelt beside me as he said it. I remember watching the blood soak into his pants.
“I see the way you look at her,” he hissed in my ear, getting far closer to me than he would have dared if I was able to move. “She’s mine, do you hear? Mine. Not yours. Not my fucking father’s. Mine. Go near her again and I will make sure she is the one who pays for it.” He stood back up, dark patches from my blood staining his knees. “Blink to show me you understand. Blink to promise you won’t go near her again.”
I blinked, and it was only then that he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called for help.
“How are you feeling, Mr Blake?” The doctor asks, his eyes flicking between me and the clipboard in his hands.
Blake. It’s one of the aliases Senior has on file for me, my real name unknown. The only name I came to him with was Ryker and he’s developed different aliases over the years for me to use. Ryker Blake must be one with medical insurance.
“A bit groggy, if I’m honest, but not too bad, considering.”
“Considering indeed.” The doctor gets out a torch and flashes it in each of my eyes, blinding me until my vision is filled with red dots. “You were rather lucky. The blade almost pierced your spinal cord.” He holds out his hands. “Squeeze,” he orders. “You would have been paralyzed for good instead of temporarily if it had.” I squeeze his fingers and push and pull against his grip. He nods in approval and pulls a pen out of his pocket to scrawl on the notepad. “As it was, we were able to repair the damage and remove the blade successfully with surgery.” He smiles and places the pen back in his pocket. “You’ll need to keep the sling on for at least two weeks and then ensure you take it easy for a few more weeks after that. You’ll also need to attend physio, but I don’t see why you won’t regain full use of your arm.”
I briefly wonder what story Senior made up for the reason I ended up in hospital with a knife stuck in me, but the doctor nods knowingly to Atterton so I know they have some sort of understanding. It’s probably best if I don’t know what.
The nurse wraps a blood pressure band around my good arm and pushes a button on the machine. It starts to inflate.
“When can I get out of here?”
“We’d like to keep you in for a day or two for observation, but I don’t see any reason why you can’t go home in a few days. You’ll need assistance, of course, someone to help you navigate only having the use of one arm, but from a surgical point of view, I anticipate no problems.”
Senior claps the doctor on the back, following him out of the room and speaking in hushed tones. The nurse smiles at me timidly.
“Pain level okay?”
I nod. “Could do with taking a piss though.”
The Velcro rips noisily as she removes the band from my arm. “Shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll just need to pull the drip along with you. The doctor wants your fluids kept up for a while longer yet.”
I wince as I attempt to sit up and the nurse holds the elbow of my good arm to help. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and wait for the dizziness to subside, shaking off her assistance.
“Let me help you,” she offers, but I shake my head and stand, using the pole of the drip for balance.
“I’m fine.” My steps are slow and small but I make my way over to the bathroom, turning only to close the door and find the nurse checking out my bare ass. I can’t help but grin and throw her a wink. Color paints her cheeks and she walks out of the room quickly.
My piss comes out in a flood and I moan with the relief it brings. I stand there, dick in hand, head rolled back, and ignore the tug of pain that jolts down my back.
The light above me flickers on and off annoyingly as I shuffle over to the basin and wash my hands. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I run my finger over the small cut on my neck thinking back to when Mia held the knife there.
“I won’t do it, Mia. I won’t let you die. I can’t. I’d rather you be with him than dead.”
“This time you’re not the one who gets to choose.”
“You won’t do it. You can’t do it.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
Fumbling through my belongings on the shelf, I find my cell phone and turn it on. Was it really only yesterday that all that happened. It seems like a lifetime ago.
My right arm is in a sling that drapes around my neck. Tape is wrapped around my middle to hold it in place. I pick at the edge until the tape lifts and then I rip it off and lift the sling over my head, placing it in the basin, holding my arm in the same position it was in the sling. There are bandages over my wound, so I pull them off, eager to see the mess underneath.
A thick red line runs over my shoulder, the skin held together with glue rather than stitches, tearing apart the tattoo that used to be there. The wound is angry and red, and I can’t help admiring Mia’s handiwork. It took a lot of guts to do what she did. And for some sick reason, I like that she’s marked my body.
Senior appears in the doorway. “I haven’t told Everly anything. I thought it best not to worry her.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, pushing past him and returning to the bed. My steps are easier by now, my body already adjusting to the way it needs to move to ensure the least amount of pain.
Senior lifts his arm, checking the time on his watch. “I’ve got to go but I’m pleased you’re doing well. Flick Cameron a message when you get to come home and he’ll come pick you up.” His eyes fall to the exposed scar on my shoulder. “And I’ll call the nurse back in to re-dress that wound.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
RYKER
“Turn here.”
Cameron raises an eyebrow but takes the turn. There are police cars parked outside, one officer standing on the steps leading to her house, barely keeping his eyes open.
“
We shouldn’t be here,” Cameron warns. “Senior would kill us. Junior would kill us.”
“Slow down a little.”
I peer out the window, staring intently at her house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her but the curtains are pulled and there’s no sign of her. But at least she is safe. For the time being anyway.
We turn off the street and onto the main road of the small town. I close my eyes to the houses and stores that we pass and lean back into the headrest.
“Junior turned fucking psycho when Senior told him he couldn’t take her again. It was almost comical. He was chucking stuff around Senior’s office and I had to just stand there with this blank look on my face like nothing was going on.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “Fucking freak.”
“Do you think they’ll go after her again? It’s not like Senior to just let her go without consequences. He’ll consider it a betrayal and he’s not known for forgetting about those.”
Cameron shrugs. “Maybe it’s different because she’s Junior’s girl and not his. Who knows? He’s not happy though, that much I know. He’s been on the phone pretty much since it happened, but I haven’t overheard enough to know why. He’s got some new driver kid who’s sort of stepped into your role since you’ve been otherwise occupied.”
“I never asked for the job.” I open my eyes again, moving in the seat to adjust my position. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flick of hair that reminds me of Mia. “Pull over.”
Cameron looks at me curiously but doesn’t slow.
“Fucking pull over.” I yank open the door before he pulls to a stop, my foot hovering over the ground.
“Keep your panties on.” Cameron pulls the car into an empty space and I jump out, ignoring the pain that my quick steps bring to my injury.
Mia darts and weaves through the people walking down the street. At least I think it’s her. The girl has the same hair, the same shape, and the same movements as Mia. I follow behind her, watching, but careful not to let her see me, Junior’s warning still sounding in my mind. I don’t want to be the one responsible for triggering her re-capture. There’s a small part of me that hopes they will allow her to stay free of them. But there’s a bigger part that knows they won’t.
She’s chasing after someone. A man in a cap with earphones pressed to his ear. A man who looks vaguely like me.
“Ryker?” My name is just a whisper on her lips, but I hear it.
My heart pounds in my chest. I’m torn between racing to her and watching from afar. She taps the man on the shoulder and he turns, a deviant smile twisting over his face as he looks her over.
She turns away from him, but the man reaches out and grabs her ass. Rage floods my veins, but I keep it buried inside, digging my nails into my palms as I fist them at my sides. Then she whirls around and slaps him. I can’t help but admire the red welt on the side of his face.
“Bitch!” he hisses.
Behind Mia, her mother leaps from the car, stalking toward the man with determination. If I thought I was enraged at the way he grabbed at her, it is nothing compared to the fury in her mother’s eyes. She gets right into his face, causing the man to stumble against the car behind him. The man tries to back away, but Mia’s mother is relentless, waving her finger in his face. Then, to my surprise, her mother reaches down and grabs a handful of the man’s junk, twisting painfully. My stomach lurches in response to the sight, but I have to give it to the woman. She is fucking savage. The look on her face is one Mia had given me many times before. One of defiance and hatred.
Then she simply turns on her heels, leaving the man hunched over and pale.
“What was that all about?” Cameron asks as I climb back into the car.
“Not entirely sure but it was fucking awesome.” I grin and yank the seatbelt, clipping it in at an angle that doesn’t weigh on my sling.
“She really got to you, didn’t she?” He starts the car and pulls back onto the road behind Mia and her mother. “You fucked her, didn’t you? I wouldn’t tell, you know that, don’t you? You can trust me.”
But the truth was, I don’t. Although I consider Cameron a friend, at the end of the day he works for the Attertons. No doubt they have some sort of security over him to ensure his loyalty just like they do with me. Neither of us can be trusted. Not completely.
“Just fucking drive,” I say, settling back into the seat and closing my eyes. “Wake me when we’re there.”
Mia is free and Everly is safe. That is all I care about.
“Dick-face.” Someone shakes my leg. “Hey, Dick-face, we’re here.”
I open my eyes to see the stables and the familiar sight of the stairs leading to my apartment. I groan and stretch as much as I can in the cramped space then lean back awkwardly, attempting to reach my bag from the back seat.
“Calm down.” Cameron pushes me out of the way and leans back to retrieve the bag. “You need help getting up the stairs, old boy?”
I roll my eyes and open the door. “Cheers for the ride.”
“Yell out if you need a hand with anything.” A smirk covers Cameron’s face. “Well, not anything. I’m not wiping your ass.”
I slam the door shut and start climbing up the stairs, shoving my bag over my uninjured shoulder. Cameron pulls away, still chuckling at his own joke. He’s younger than me. Hasn’t been around as long. I guess he’s more easily amused.
The dank scent of rotting fruit greets me as I open the door. The offending fruit sits in a bowl on the bench, the odd fly buzzing around. Grabbing the bowl, I walk back outside, down the steps and dump the contents into the bin. One of the horse trainers walks past, leading a horse behind him, and nods in greeting. I nod back and walk back up the stairs to flop myself on the couch.
This place has been my home for years. It’s not much, furnished with discarded furniture from the Attertons, but there’s still a sense of home, of comfort. It’s mainly one large room, two bedrooms shooting off from it and a bathroom in the far corner. Not much of a hoarder, the only decorations or artworks are the ones that Everly put up. At one stage she was keen on horses, certain that she would grow up to be a jockey, so the pictures on the walls are mainly of horses. I never took them down when she grew bored of them. They suited the place. Gave it some sense of substance.
Picking up the remote, I flick the TV on and stare at the screen. This was going to be it for the next couple of weeks. Off work and relaxing. Like it was possible. Already there was an anxious knot twisting inside my gut. I wasn’t one to sit around and do nothing. It was going to drive me insane.
So over the next few days, I scrub the place so clean it sparkles. Well, not really, but it looks and smells a shit-ton better. I watch television and listen to Metallica so loudly the stable hands tell me to turn it down because I’m scaring the horses. I check in with Everly daily, to the point that there’s a slight tone of annoyance when she answers my calls.
And I try not to think of Mia.
But each time I run my fingers over the scar on my shoulder, her image flashes before me. Her lips, so luscious and plump. Her eyes, filled with tears, begging me to let her go. The sight of her fleeing out the door as I lay on the ground. I need to know that she is still okay. I need to know she is safe.
When I can handle it no more, I grab the keys to one of the vehicles and leave in a cloud of dust. Being on the road feels good. I felt too cooped up sitting inside all day and there are only so many times you can walk through the stables and talk to the horses before even the horses start to give you strange looks.
I didn’t intend on driving to her house, but it’s where I find myself, staring across the road and into her windows like a stalker. I haven’t sighted her yet. No one comes to the door. No one passes in front of the window. I’m just about to admit defeat when I see her friend, the one with the spikey hair knocking on the door and barging her way in past Mia’s father. He has a look of exasperation on his face, but as he closes the door, it turns to a smile.
I sit a
little further up in the seat, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mia. And sure enough, a few moments later, she walks over to the window, looking out at the street while her friend flops to the couch behind her. Since the sun has set, the streetlights have switched on and their reflection stops me from being able to see her properly.
I lower myself again, even though the windows are tinted. Even though every part of me wants to get out of the car and walk over to her, I don’t because I know she’s better off without me. If the Attertons are content to leave her alone, I should too. Having me in her life will only cause her pain and bring her back to Junior’s attention.
I’ve checked in with Cameron daily and although Junior spends a lot of his time watching her, so far, he’s heeded his father’s advice and hasn’t attempted to take her again.
Mia leaves the window and a few moments later the front door opens, and she walks out, rolling her eyes at something her friend said. She waves goodbye to her mother, assuring her she will be fine, but there’s a hint of hesitation in her smile. She’s scared. Her eyes dart around the street, resting on my car briefly, but then she shakes her head a little as though dismissing the thought it could mean danger, and climbs into the passenger seat of her friend’s car.
It seems strange to see her dressed simply in jeans and a sparkly black top which reflects the streetlights. So normal. So fucking beautiful.
I watch until the car drives out of sight, both sad and happy to see her returning to her old life. A life that doesn’t have me in it. But a life that also doesn’t have him.
Turning the key in the ignition, I think about returning home, but instead turn the car in the direction of Everly. I’m not ready to go home yet. I’m not ready to stare at the same four walls until I feel like I’m going to go insane. In a few days, it will be time to remove the sling and I can’t fucking wait. I’m supposed to stay off work for a few more weeks yet, but I’m considering asking Senior if I can return early so I have something to occupy my mind other than Mia. She’s safe. She’s happy. I need to forget about her.
