Amped

by Teagan Kade

  “You don’t strike me as the emotional type.”

  She pushes her tits together. “There’s a heart in there somewhere believe it or not. So, the girl. Spill it.”

  I lean back, slide the tumbler into the middle of the table. “I came to the realization it wasn’t going to work.”

  “Why?” Sarah presses.

  Fuck me. “Because everyone who hangs around me long enough winds up dead.”

  “Your brothers seem very much alive.”

  “They’re alive, but I don’t think they appreciate being dragged halfway across the world for protection.”

  Sarah leans in. “Ah, but you have kept them safe. You can protect them. You can protect her, so why push her away? Why do that to yourself? I mean, fuck knows what she sees in you, but the connection is obvious. There was another one, wasn’t there? A girl you lost.”

  She’s striking too close to home now. “Enough.”

  “No, you need to get this off your chest.”

  I swipe the tumbler off the table. It smashes on the floor. “Do I? Some things are best left buried.”

  I take out my clip, slap down another five for the glass.

  Sarah remains stony, unmoved. “You’re fucking scared. That’s what it is.”

  I slam my fist down on the table. “I am never fucking scared. She’s gone. It’s over.”

  “Who?”

  I stop. I don’t even know who I’m talking about anymore—Lux, Abbey… It all blends together inside the mess that’s in my head.

  The pain hits me hard right in the gut, twists into it like a knife. The whiskey doesn’t help. It dulls the pain, but it never takes it away. Nothing can. “Since you’re such a fucking expert in these matters then, what should I do? I can’t go back to the States.”

  “Can you pick up a fucking phone?”

  I laugh. “And you call me the smartass?”

  “You have contacts. Guys like you always do. Call her for fuck’s sake. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Guys like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She points to my head. “Sure don’t see a halo floating up there.”

  “You’d fall off your fucking chair if I told you the truth.”

  She waves it away. “I don’t give a shit about the truth, but I know when two people should be together. You’re broken, but if anyone can patch your sorry ass up, it’s her. Besides, it would be a shame to see a sexy thing like you go to waste.”

  I laugh. “Was that a compliment?”

  She shrugs. “If I was twenty years younger I’d fuck you like a freight train, but I’m over bad boys now. Too much brooding and intro-fucking-spection. Drama? I’ve got the soapies for that.”

  I smile back. “Who says I’d want to fuck you?”

  She stands up and leans down, winking. “Who wouldn’t?”

  *

  “Hello?”

  The guy’s voice is deeper than I imagined. “Is this Jason?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “I’m a friend of Lux’s.” Friend—That’s one way to put it.

  A huff. “Lux doesn’t have many friends.”

  “Call me a new acquaintance then.”

  “You’re the guy from Australia, aren’t you?”

  Pretty boy doesn’t miss a beat. “I am.”

  “I should hang up right now after what you did to her. Do you know what kind of state she was in when she arrived?”

  “So why are we still talking?”

  He laughs. “I don’t know. Curiosity maybe. How’d you do it? How did you get her to fall for you so hard?”

  It’s a fucking good question. “I don’t know. I suppose we share a lot in common.”

  “Is that so?”

  Two can play at this game. “You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?”

  Another laugh. “I’m too straight for her. I have a girlfriend, and besides, I can’t swim.”

  “Pity.”

  “Like you care.”

  “Is she there?”

  “Even if she was, you think I’d tell her you called?”

  “I do. You care about her. I respect that. You want her to be happy, don’t you?”

  “Of course, which is why I’m going to tell you she’s not here, lover boy.”

  Fuck. “And let me guess, you’re not going to tell me where she is either, are you?”

  “She’s already on her way to the airport.”

  “She’s catching a flight?” I question.

  A sigh. “God knows why, but she’s coming back for you.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “If you hurt her…” he continues, putting on his best tough-guy voice.

  “I won’t,” I reply, hanging up but keeping my hand around the phone, gripping it tight.

  I shake my head.

  She’s coming back.

  She’s fucking coming back to me.

  *

  The swell must be good. It’s been a solid three hours and the boys are still out there.

  I sit on the veranda watching the ocean in the distance, my thoughts with Lux. Am I happy she’s coming back? Of course, but what now? Do I tell her the truth, try and start over? Or do I push her away again, keep her safe?

  Why? Why the fuck do you do it to yourself, says my head, this fucking self-sabotage? Would it really be so wrong to be happy for once, let the past lie?

  I hear tires on gravel. I look down to see the sergeant’s cruiser pulling in. At least the sirens aren’t on—a good sign.

  The door opens, Sergeant Wilson getting out a little too fast. He’s alone, no backup.

  I stand, slip my hands into my pockets as I walk down the stairs to meet him. “Everything okay, Sergeant?”

  He takes off his cap, hand running through his hair. He looks like he’s out of breath, like he’s just run to the mainland and back. “It’s your brother.”

  I tense up. “Which one?”

  “Bo.”

  Fuck. “What’s he done now?”

  The sergeant looks down at his feet.

  Concern rises. “What is it?”

  He looks up. “He’s been attacked.”

  Attacked? Fear grips me hard. “What?”

  “A shark, great white by the look of it.”

  Holy shit. This was always a danger. It’s in the back of my mind every time I go out, but sightings are rare. Of all the times I didn’t go out…

  I swallow a lump in my throat. I don’t want to ask the question, but I have to know.

  I look the sergeant dead in the eyes. “Just tell me. Is he alive?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LUX

  The door’s unlocked.

  “Hello?” I call.

  I come into the lounge room to find Razor busily trying to shove a gossip magazine under the sofa cushion.

  I place my bags down and stand there with my arms crossed. I packed light this time. “You leave your porn lying around but you don’t want me to see you reading TV Week?”

  “Not a fucking word, you hear?”

  I pretend I’m zipping my mouth. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Razor stands up and walks over, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug, holding me away and looking me over. “You’re the last person I expected to see around here again.”

  I look over his shoulder. “Is he here?”

  Razor shakes his head. “There was an accident.”

  My heart stops. “An accident?”

  “Bo was attacked by a shark this morning.”

  I start to smile because surely it’s a joke, but the expression on Razor’s face tells me it’s not. “You’re serious.”

  “I am. Deacon’s been at the hospital in Hobart most of the day, but he should be back any moment.”

  I can’t believe it—an actual shark attack. “Bo. What happened? Is he going to be okay?”

  Razor looks tired more than anything. “We were at the Bluff, Bo and I. He wiped out, hit the reef pretty ha
rd but kept surfing. I guess the whites’ territory is shifting. They must have been attracted by the blood. Fucking little fighter fought it off, even though it had a good hold on his torso and leg. I managed to get him back to town before he bled out, had a chopper from the city hospital come and get him.”

  “But he’ll be okay, won’t he?”

  Razor nods. “Yeah, he’ll have a big-ass scar alright, but he’ll live. We’re made from tougher stuff, you see.”

  “You should be there with him too. You should both be by his side.”

  “Deacs wanted someone here when you arrived. There was a bunch of paperwork at the hospital, stuff you need an actual brain for. It was best he do it.”

  “How did he even know I was coming back?”

  A smile spans out on Razor’s face, his own scar shrinking in the process. “He called your buddy Jason, sussed it out.”

  I gulp thinking of how impossibly awkward that conversation must have been. “Oh.”

  Razor pulls out a chair from the kitchen table. “Here, sit. You want anything?”

  “Water, thanks.”

  Razor heads to the fridge, taking out a water for me and a beer for himself. He places my water down and sits holding up the beer can. “‘VB’ they call this stuff. Tastes like rat piss at first, but fuck me if you don’t get used to it. Like a lot of things over here, I guess, it’s an acquired taste. Suppose you could say the same about all of us, especially Deacs. I mean, that is why you came back, isn’t it?”

  I unsling my handbag and place it on the table, a little more settled now I know Bo will be okay. “We’ll see.”

  “It hasn’t been the same without you. I haven’t seen Deacon this moody since…”

  “Since?

  Razor shakes his head and places the beer can on the table. “You’ve got to understand, Deacon’s been through a lot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Razor seems reluctant to tell me, but he sees the look in my eye and relents, perhaps understanding it’s time for Deacon to move on. From what, I think I’m about to find out.

  “There was a girl, Abbey, back home in the States. We sort of grew up together. Anyhow, her and Deacon were a thing for a long time, one of those real fairytales, you know?”

  “She was a surfer?”

  “Everyone is a surfer around Newport. It was perfect—they couldn’t get enough of each other. They were even gonna be married.”

  “What happened?”

  Razor shakes his head. “I can’t.”

  “I need to know,” I press, “please.”

  He looks at the beer. “She died. A big, fuck-off swell came through and we decided to hit up the Wedge. It was huge out there, epic stuff, but dangerous. I didn’t go out. I was too fucking scared, and that’s saying something, but Deacon and Abbey? They were another breed. She would charge anything. It didn’t matter how big or heavy it was, she was always out there with the boys showing them up.”

  He stops and I let him take his time.

  Finally, he breathes out. “A big set came through, a freak set, really. I don’t even know why she set herself up to take that wave. It was a monster, but she did. The thing closed out early, absolutely pulverized her. She couldn’t get up, disappeared under the water for a long time—way too long.”

  He stops again, continuing to shake his head.

  I lean across the table. “Please, Razor.”

  “Deacon found her floating unconscious, managed to get her to shore, but there was an issue with the ambulance call-out. It took almost half an hour to arrive. He performed CPR the whole time, pounding on her chest, begging her to come back. I mean, fuck, it was a dark time. They had to drag him away. He punched one of the paramedics when they told him she was gone, right in the face. He didn’t want to believe it, not for the longest time.”

  “Is that why he moved?”

  “How much do you know?”

  “I know about Millertown, what went down.”

  Razor looks to me. “Millertown. Yeah. I mean, he didn’t point at a map and choose that shithole. He asked for a transfer as far away from the coast as possible, and that’s where they placed him. After her death, he was on a fucking mission—a robot. I don’t think he would have cared if they sent him to Juarez. He wanted to take out that pain, bash in some heads. Guess he got his wish.

  “By the time all the shit went down, we were in danger too. I mean, fuck, a group of them showed up at the house in Newport. Bo saw them coming around the back, managed to take out the first two with a baseball bat, thought they were burglars.” He runs a finger down the scar on his face. “The third got me with s switchblade before I fucked up his leg. Bikie prick managed to get away, but that was it. Deacon got home at the same time, sorted it out, but after that we decided together to move away, start fresh.”

  “Buy why here, why Finke?”

  Razor laughs. “In case you haven’t noticed, Finke’s pretty fucking remote. Deacon heard about Shipstern from one of his buddies up in Sydney, always wanted to come, so why the hell not? It’s quiet, a small town—no one knew us when we arrived and we’ve tried to keep our noses down—‘tried’ being the operative word, because Deacon can’t fucking help it. He’s got to protect everyone. Even you.”

  I lean back. “I had no idea.”

  “You never heard this from me. The thing with Abbey? That was over two years ago, but it’s still raw. You can see it in him, the pain. It’s part of the reason why he pushed you away, but if anyone can help him heal, it’s you. Fucking cheesy as it sounds, you’re special, Lux. I mean, I’d bone you.”

  I don’t even see Razor and Bo like that anymore. They feel more like brothers to me. I roll my eyes. “You’d bone me? And you wonder why you can’t pick up…”

  Just as I say it the front door opens and there stands Deacon in his leather jacket, grocery bags in hand.

  I stand and turn.

  We stare at each other.

  He’s trying to keep his excitement down, but I can see the way he lights up at the sight of me.

  I nod down to the groceries. “You brought supplies.”

  He smiles and the relief that floods through me is overwhelming. “Couldn’t have you starving now, could we?” He reaches into one of the grocery bags and takes out a giant tub of Vegemite. This should last you for—oh, I don’t know—a couple of years.”

  “I’ll leave you two to it,” says Razor, standing up and drifting away with his beer. I barely notice I’m so fixed on Deacon.

  “I—”

  “I—”

  We both speak at the same time.

  “You go.”

  “No, you go.”

  It feels so awkward, our first time yet again.

  Deacon places the grocery bags down and steps closer. “I’m sorry.”

  “I understand, and I’m sorry about Bo. Razor just filled me in.”

  “Bo will be okay. He’s fucking lucky, but he’ll be okay. What do you mean you understand?” There’s hope in his eyes. It’s a beautiful sight.

  “Why you pushed me away. I’m here to tell you not to worry. I know why you came here and I know what you’re running from. I know about the thing in Millertown. I know your real name is Damien.”

  “Was,” he corrects.

  “I know about Abbey, your past, and I want to be with you all the same. Question is, will you have me?”

  He breathes in. “This isn’t right. It’s too easy. I should be on fucking knees, groveling.” He starts to get down.

  I reach down and pull him back up. “I’m begging you. Please don’t let me go again.”

  He stares into my eyes, sees right through me, deep into my soul. “Why would you want me? A broken shell, a guy walking around with a time bomb strapped to his back, because that’s what being with me means. People have died because of me. They still might.”

  “I know, but it’s not your fault. That’s what you don’t understand. And Abbey?” He stiffens at her name, tensing up, but I pu
sh on. “She wasn’t your fault either.”

  His eyes grow glassy, but he refuses to cry, to let those floodgates open. “I couldn’t save her. I mean, fuck, I almost lost a brother this morning because I was too busy sulking here when I should have been out with them.”

  “You saved me, didn’t you?”

  He sniggers. “Save you only to, what? See you killed in the crossfire when they come?”

  “I’m getting sick of telling you—”

  “I know, I know. You can handle yourself.”

  I press my hand up against his chest. “I don’t want to replace her, Deacon.” I press my hand harder over his heart, welcome the solid thud of it against my palm.” I know she will always have a place here and I’m fine with that, with sharing you.”

  He breathes in deeply, looks to the roof before locking eyes with me once more. “Are you sure? Are you really sure. It won’t be an easy life with me.”

  I smile. “Did I say I wanted an easy life?”

  He presses forward and kisses me—urgent, needy, the breath taken from my body as we finally come together again and the world slips away into the periphery. Kissing him, my hand against his beating chest, I know this is right, that this is precisely where I’m supposed to be and nowhere else. Whether he thinks he has to protect me or not, I’ve never felt as safe as when I’m in his arms, my body against his, his arms around me.

  I hold him away. “I can’t believe Bo was attacked by a shark. It’s crazy.”

  “Not just a shark, a great white.” Deacon says it with a kind of reverence. “I mean, I even saw the chopper overhead, wondered what fucking idiot had fallen off a cliff or drowned now. It didn’t even occur to me…” he looks into the distance, eyes glassy.

  I place my arm around his shoulders, pull him in, but it’s like trying shift a bus. “He’s going to be okay. It’s not your fault.”

  “I should have been out there. It’s my responsibility to look after them.”

  “You can’t look after them all the time. They’re fully grown men who can take responsibility for their own actions.”

  “The top of his leg’s fucked up. He’ll need a lot of surgery.”

  “But at least he’ll have his life, right?”

  Deacon huffs. “What kind of life is that? If he can’t surf…”