The Damned of Lost Creek

by Danae Ayusso

  No. If it’s bullshit, why does it feel as if his words are the unprecedented truth?

  No comment.

  “It’s a nice thought,” I said, trying to drop the subject.

  Shep forced a smile, but didn’t press it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ausländischer Studentin

  I don’t know if Shep’s showing off or not, but I’m not complaining. The kid has a sexy body: tan skin glistening with sweat, and his lean muscular body is perfectly honed. Each quick extension of his arm before he hits the bag causes his muscles to flex and go taut—arms, legs, shoulders, back, chest, abs, ass…

  Damn.

  Then he repeats with another jab, causing the other side of his body to respond in the same manner.

  I can honestly say that he’s a hot piece of ass, and I’m not entirely sure why I hadn’t noticed before.

  Because he’s white and blond, neither of which does anything for us. And he’s a whiny bitch and gives me a toothache.

  Maybe, but I think it was because of nerves about being in a new place and all of the other weird shit that’s been going on. But admit it, you like his bod as much as I do.

  I’ll never admit to such, but I’ll just quietly sit here and watch the show. You have to admit, his form is textbook perfect and deserves to be admired. I wonder who handed his ass to him. Now that is a bod I wouldn’t mind watch work a bag over. Must be built like a brick shit house to one up this one.

  Maybe. I’m a bit scared to ask about the asshole.

  You know who it is?

  Draven Van Zul is what the others said.

  What kind of lame ass, dungeon and dragons type shit name is that?!

  I giggled.

  Usually blue-eyed blondes and longer hair on men did nothing for me. With Shep’s bone structure though, he is totally pulling off the half-ponytail thing right now. But what makes him even sexier is his form. It’s like watching a welterweight champion pounding away on the bag. My form is good, but his is textbook perfect.

  Think I could take him?

  Shut up. You aren’t beating on him to prove Mario’s training was better than whoever trained him.

  “You’re staring,” Shep said between hissed breaths.

  “I’m appreciating your form.”

  That made him stop, and he grabbed the swaying bag and looked at me. “Boxing or body?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Both,” I blurted out.

  He sighed, shaking his head. “I told you before, Mikey, it’s never going to happen, no matter how much you beg me. All this,” he rubbed his hands down his chest, and down his rippling abs, then looked up at me and smirked when he noticed I was watching, “can only be appreciated from afar.”

  “Because you’re gay.” I smiled wide, and he glared at me.

  He shook his head, instead of chuckling or throwing a bitch fit.

  “No. You’ve yet to see Price angry,” Shep said. “He’s made it very clear to everything with a, well, you know,” he said, motioning towards his crotch.

  “Dick?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, not amused. “You are off limits, plain and simple. Your issues, which I don’t understand and I’m sure no one else does either, and your reservations about being touched, means you are off limits to everyone. It isn’t like you’re interested in anyone or having a relationship or something, right?”

  This dude is crazy.

  “Not in the least,” I said, shivering. “For all the reasons you mentioned and more. But I think it’s amusing that Price is acting as a chastity belt though.”

  Shep shook his head in aspiration. “Like I said, the dang death of me.”

  Is giving him to Dandy still out?

  Yes.

  “I hope not because that’d suck,” I said. “I speak from experience.”

  Way more than you needed to say.

  Again, he shook his head in aspiration. “Are you ready to turn in, shower, eat, and pass out for a couple of days?”

  “Is that a subtle offer to cuddle since you’ve reached the level of touching without getting a knee in the balls?” I smirked, tossing him the half-empty jug of water I’ve been drowning myself with.

  He caught the jug and shook his head. “The dang death of me,” he mumbled under his breath before taking a couple of large gulps then dumped the rest of the water on his head.

  Bargain bin romance novel feel.

  That’s what I was thinking.

  After sitting for two hours, watching Shep, I was ready for breakfast, lunch and dinner all rolled into one, and a long nap.

  When we started to exit the barn, Cujo growled and her hackle rose at least four-inches.

  Shep pulled me back. “Stay here.”

  “Um, no,” I said, smacking him upside the head, giving him a look.

  “Ow, why not?” he complained.

  “I’m not staying here with my thumb up my ass. What if the boogie man gets me?” I made a face.

  Shep shook his head. “He’d promptly ask for a refund,” he informed me.

  I laughed. “Touché. You’ll protect me, won’t you?” I batted my lashes.

  I think I just threw up in my mouth.

  Shut up. I’m not sitting here while he deals with Dandy, if that’s the problem, and you’d just shove him at her and run.

  True.

  Cujo snorted and headed from the barn.

  “If I tell you to run, run. Okay?” Shep whispered. “Get to the house as fast as you can and whatever you do, don’t cross the protection of the fencing. Got it?”

  The last thing I’d do is run and leave him, but I’d give him this one. If needed, my skinny ass can run like a bleached out Ethiopian.

  Shep offered me his hand and I started to take it then stopped.

  My hand trembled and I opened and closed my fist a few times to get the circulation going.

  Just take his hand and pretend it is Blue Boy’s or someone we trust.

  I can do that, I think.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you,” Shep whispered, forcing a smile.

  It’s a nice thought.

  I took his hand in mine and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  Huh, that isn’t so bad.

  Told you so… He has weird hands.

  He’s a ranch hand; callused, sweaty, long fingers, but a slightly wide palm.

  Once outside, loud shouting and arguing filled the morning air, and instantly I wish I had stayed in the barn.

  One voice was beyond recognizable: Price.

  The other voice irritated me, even more so than Cinder Dick’s: smug, rude, condescending, superior and something I can’t put a name to, but I know I want to kick his ass already.

  “Why is it that I am not heading to Spokane to put my son on a plane to Paris?” he asked, but his tone made it more than obvious he already knew the answer. “What right did you have to talk that whore mother of his-”

  “That is your wife you are speaking of,” Price warned.

  “Mine,” the other said, as if that was the point. “And he is mine. Just because you don’t have one to fuck up doesn’t mean you get to use other people’s children as you see fit. That little bastard will be on the first flight leaving Spokane to Paris tomorrow, I can promise you that. And if you think you will talk me out of it, you have another thing coming.”

  What are they going on about?

  Beats the shit out of me.

  Price softly growled under his breath, but didn’t correct the guy in regards to having a child of his own.

  I don’t like that.

  Me neither.

  “And if you ever leave me a voicemail like that again,” the other continued, “or accuse my family of the bullshit that you did again, the truce is over and war will ensue. I am tired of the dog and pony show and it is time to reclaim the land as ours.”

  I’m confused, and I don’t think it’s the blonde roots.

  “I’m right there with you,” I whispered aloud
by mistake.

  Instantly both men stopped and looked at us.

  The man rolled his eyes. “Oh, I see how it is,” he sneered, “adopting again. I would have thought the State would frown upon giving children to that old stoner you have in the kitchen, but apparently they are scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

  Can I kill him?

  Have at it.

  “Foreign exchange student,” Price instantly corrected.

  What?

  Did he just… Not his daughter, or even a foster kid, but an exchange student? Is that how he sees us?!

  I guess he’s ashamed that I’m his daughter after all. Whenever we went out and someone asked who I was, he just introduced me as Mikhail, not his daughter. Even the principal didn’t know I was his daughter.

  Obviously if they aren’t in the family he doesn’t want anyone to know about us. Fuck him.

  That’s why he didn’t pick me up at the train station and had me escorted like a common criminal, and why he didn’t want to take me to Missoula to go shopping the first time, why he stepped out of the store to talk to the person he knew so they couldn’t see me.

  I… That fucker played us!

  Absently I nodded, trying to keep from doubling over.

  “Really?” the man scoffed, and then his head tilted to the side. “Why do you look familiar to me?” he asked.

  “She is none of your concern,” Price sneered.

  Yeah, I’m no one’s concern, especially yours.

  “Guten Tag,” I whispered, fighting the tears flooding my eyes.

  So the time we spent at the tiny German deli on Oxford Avenue with Megan pays off.

  “Ich weiß nicht,” I continued sotto voce.

  “Really?” he mused, sounding strikingly like my Frenchman.

  They do look surprisingly similar only this asshole is older, more Price’s age I’m assuming, his black hair has a dusting of gray along the sides, and is short and polished, unlike the boyband hair the young one has, and he isn’t nearly as tall or thick.

  “I swear I’ve seen you before,” he said, stroking his chin, looking overly contemplative.

  “Everyone looks the same to you, Soren,” Price reminded him. “If it has a pulse and is new, it’s familiar to you. You’ve said what you came to say, and I will continue to support Danette and how she wants to rear her son. Until you start acting like a father, you do not have the right to make decisions as if you are his father. Get the fuck off my property.”

  Soren rolled his eyes and made a mocking face. “Blow it out your ass, Price.” He turned his attention back to me. “What’s your name, Little Girl?”

  “Get inside,” Price snapped at me, and I jumped, startled, and Shep sighed.

  Once again, Soren ignored him. “We had to have met somewhere before. You look so familiar. I love a good mystery. They help to pass the time until the next tourist season begins, but they keep you up all night and there are so many other things to be doing at night than laying around thinking about an amusing, yet familiar, face.”

  Is this creepy old dude hitting on me in front of my father?

  No, he isn’t our father, remember? We’re not worthy of him calling us daughter in public. Lord knows, no one can know that we’re related. Could you just imagine the gossip around this little shithole town if that became public knowledge? Heaven forbid his precious ranch and status in Hickland, Montana, gets ruined!

  You have a point.

  I shook my head. “Es tut mir leid, aber, ich glaube schon. Entschuldigung Sie bitte,” I said, dismissively nodding and pushed Shep towards the house.

  Shep stumbled over his own feet, staring at me with wide eyes.

  I glared at Price in passing, but he was glaring at Soren, not paying me any attention.

  I slammed the door shut behind us and ripped my hand away from Shep’s then turned for the stairs.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” he called out behind me, completely oblivious.

  Goddamn blondes.

  “I’ve lost my appetite,” I sneered, taking the stairs two at a time and ran down the hall to my room, slamming the door shut behind me.

  I gasped and choked, struggling to catch my breath.

  Don’t you dare cry one tear over this! she warned, but I could hear the tears in her voice as well.

  “How could I have been so blind!? Dreams and hope are for the weak,” I stammered, trying to remind myself of the lessons Mom taught us on the streets.

  Street mindedness was the only thing that would protect us now since we were stupid enough to open ourselves up, to take a chance, and by trusting someone that we should have never trusted.

  I glared at myself in the bathroom mirror and ignored the tears staining my cheeks.

  How could we have been so stupid?! Justice demanded, glaring at my reflection, ignoring the tears staining her cheeks.

  I shook my head.

  This is entirely your fault!

  “You were the one calling him Daddy, not me,” I argued.

  Fuck you! Don’t you dare turn this around on me. This is your fault.

  “Fuck you,” I sneered and slammed my fist into her face in the mirror.

  The mirror broke into large pieces, shattering into razor sharp shards against the vanity.

  A strange ripping sound filled the air, and it took a few seconds for me to realize that it’s coming from me as I struggled to catch my breath.

  “Never again,” I hissed, trying to regain my composure. “Never again!” I screamed, slumping down to the floor.

  “What happened?” Ellie demanded from the doorway when she came to investigate why the street trash they were stuck with was screaming and breaking their house.

  “It broke,” I said, completely indifferent.

  “Sonuvabitch,” she growled under her breath and hurried from the room.

  “Yet another person that pretended to care and yet they just up and leave me since I’m nothing more than a bloody inconvenience that they have to legally deal with for a couple of months,” I said.

  Whatever.

  I slowly picked the pieces of mirror out from between my knuckles.

  Some were longer and deeper than others, and they stung like hell, but I’ve had worse.

  Sitting on the floor wasn’t helping either. Pieces of mirror were embedding themselves in my calves.

  “Jesus,” Price choked from the doorway, his hands covering his mouth.

  “Alles ist seinen Preis wert,” I said sotto voce.

  He hurried into the bathroom and pulled the hand towels off the counter. “Stop. You’re going to cause nerve damage,” he scolded.

  “Don’t touch me!” I yelled. “Don’t you ever touch me.”

  “Then wrap it up so I can take you to the hospital,” he said, squatting down in front of me.

  I started to tell him off but stopped.

  The hospital is in town.

  In town, I can get away without ninja dogs, moving woods, haunted houses holding me hostage, or lingering wardens of the state keeping an eye on me.

  That’s how we’ll make our escape.

  “Get away from me,” I sneered, taking the towel then pulled the last chunk of mirror from between my knuckles and gasped.

  It never ceases to amaze me how that still hurts like hell after all these years. One would think that it would eventually hurt less, but it doesn’t.

  “Mikhail,” he gasped, “why did you do that?”

  I glared at him. “An den Früchten erkennt man den Baum!” I scathingly reminded him, even if he didn’t consider me his daughter outside of his home.

  The white towel was already saturated in blood, my hand hurt like hell, and my arm was starting to turn white from blood loss.

  Oh happy day!

  “Aus einer Mücke einen Elefanten machen,” he scolded.

  Of course he speaks German, why wouldn’t he? And I’ll make a fucking mountain and then some out of this, in his opinion, molehill. I’m done.

  “Just
take me to the goddamn hospital,” I hissed, getting to my feet, ignoring his offer for help and pushed past him.

  You are dead to me, Daddy. Dead!

  That makes two of us.

  Chapter Nineteen

  First Train West

  The entire fifteen-minute drive Price kept asking me how I was feeling, if I was in pain and if I needed anything.

  So of course, we ignored him and glared out the passenger window of his truck.

  The others followed behind us in a SUV as if it was some kind of parade of bullshit concern.

  We’re not a charity case, and we’re not going to be where we’re not wanted anymore. If anything, this little trip to B.F.E., Montana, has taught us we deserve more and better and that we aren’t a charity case.

  Never again will I allow someone to put me second, my well-being and safety second. That’s what Mom did my entire life, and when that crackwhore got herself killed, I vowed to never be viewed like that again. I thought, felt, as if Price and the others were starting to view me as family and not a charity case the State dumped off on them. But now I know it was nothing but bullshit concern. They care more about their reputation in this shithole town than they do about me.

  Do you have anything to add?

  No, I’m pouting. Leave me alone. The fucker played me even more than you… I was calling him Daddy. Why did you let me do that?

  Because I wanted to call him Dad so bad.

  But you couldn’t because you knew. Leave me alone.

  Poor Justice, it isn’t often that we are on the same page, but we’re both heartbroken this time and for the same reason.

  Usually she’s the one that figures out some scandalous means to get us where we need to go, but at the moment she’s useless. I’ll figure something out, even if it’s committing a couple of misdemeanors and a felony. I’ll get us out of this.

  Do you promise?

  Of course. It’s what sisters do, Justice. Not the bullshit family they pretended to be. We’re the only family we have, and will ever have. I’ll protect you this time. I promise.

  “You got that from me,” Price said, breaking the silence when he stopped at a red-light.

  I shook my head, glaring at my reflection that was crying even though my cheeks were dry.