by Sophia Gray
Besides, I’m scared. Screw Lucas for taking away my life. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, but the idea of going out is too much to handle right now. Which is exactly what I know he wants me to feel.
I decide to do a little baking for Christopher instead. It’s the least I can do for him after everything he’s done for me in the last twelve hours alone.
He’s enthusiastic, to say the least. “What are you making?” He’s craning his neck from his spot at the kitchen table, trying to get a look. I’ve already had to ask twice for him to sit down and stop crowding me.
“Muffins, okay? Blueberry muffins with a streusel topping. Sheesh.”
“God, I can’t remember the last time I had a fresh blueberry muffin. Or if I’ve ever had one, come to think of it.” He laughs, drinking more of his coffee. He was impressed to find me grinding the beans fresh for him. Even if I can’t afford a fancy coffee maker yet, I can at least drink the best coffee available.
I slide the muffin pan into the oven, then turn to him with a smile. “I remember my grandma making blueberry muffins when I was a kid. She’d ask me to help her. All I was doing was pouring the berries into the batter, of course, but she made it seem like the most important part of the recipe.”
“It is, when you think about it. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be blueberry muffins, would they?”
I grin. “That’s exactly what she used to say.”
“I’ve never been very good at cooking for myself. I do a few things pretty well, but the little luxuries like fresh muffins? Cookies? No way.”
I’m laughing now. “You didn’t do too badly with the dumplings! I think we can make a cook of you yet.”
“Great, and I’ll let you do the landscaping work. We’ll make a great team.”
I go to him, still chuckling, and wrap my arms around his neck. His arms circle my waist, his head against my stomach.
A team. Is he thinking along the same lines I am? Here he is, spending time with me because he knows how terrified I am. Joking with me, leading me into conversation to take my mind off Lucas and the clipping he sent. I can’t forget the way he already saved me from freezing to death either. He puts the angel tattooed on his chest in a different light.
“What are you planning to do today?” I look down at him.
“First, I’m gonna eat at least three muffins. Then I’m going to find some tools in this place so I can fix up the locks on the windows like I said I would. I might even install a new lock on your front door if you wouldn’t mind.”
I feel warm all over. “Thanks, that would be great.”
“After that, maybe we’ll spend a little time doing…other things…” He grins at me, making it impossible for me not to kiss him. Lucky thing I set a timer for the muffins, or else we’d have been humping like rabbits while they burnt to a crisp.
###
“Are you sure you want to come with me?”
“Completely sure. I’m not going to stay here alone. I know it sounds insane, and you’re not going to move in with me or anything, but for right now I don’t want to be here by myself. Besides, it’s just the hardware store. I think I can handle a trip there.”
“It’s not that.” He’s standing there by the front door, arms crossed over his flat stomach. “I wonder if it’s the best idea for you to be seen with me.”
Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. “Well, so what? Let somebody ask me why I’m with you. I’ll tell them the whole story. About how you saved me, and how you’re keeping me safe now. I’ll tell the whole world!”
I watch as a slow smile spreads across his face. “That’s pretty risky for you, though. You realize that, right? People might not understand. I don’t want to see you lose your customers because they don’t approve of the people you spend time with.”
“Would they do that?” Another thing I hadn’t considered until now.
“Are you kidding? I wasn’t joking when I told you stories about how they act around me. They treat me like a leper. You haven’t lived here for very long. I’m not trying to ruin your image of the town, I’m really not. I hate anybody who pisses on other people’s parades. But these folks aren’t as nice as you think they are. You’re in a bubble now. In their favor. If only for your business, I want you to stay that way.”
We might have stood there all day, arguing about this, were it not for the sound of a motorcycle pulling up in the driveway.
“Who could that be?” I’m instantly terrified. Did Lucas get a motorcycle? Or maybe it’s one of Christopher’s buddies. I don’t know which would be worse.
I peer outside from behind the closed blinds. “It’s a man. I’ve never seen him before.” I sigh with relief. At least it’s not Lucas.
Christopher stands behind me, looking out the window. “Holy shit.” He doesn’t sound happy.
“Who is that?”
He’s already walking to the front door. “Trouble.”
Chapter 23
“Trouble? What’s that mean? Christopher!”
He doesn’t hear me, or doesn’t listen. Christopher is already out the door and on his way down the steps to confront the man in the driveway. I follow, pulling on my coat. As always, I can’t just have one person to worry about at a time.
“Amanda, stay back.” Christopher holds up a hand in my direction, willing me to stop.
Immediately, I rankle at his command, needing to bite back a retort. As much as I hate being spoken to like a child, I can’t miss the danger in his voice. He’s deadly serious. I hang back on the little porch, close enough to hear what’s being said.
The stranger is handsome in a rough sort of way. Christopher might come from a tough background, might be covered in ink, but there’s a nobility about him. He’s a born leader, I realize, charismatic without even trying to be. The other man looks like he could have been a football star in high school but let himself go in the years after that. There’s a nice body in there somewhere, hidden beneath an extra twenty pounds. He’s soft. Too much beer, I think.
The man runs a hand through his dark blond hair instead of shaking Christopher’s hand. So he’s not a friend. Fantastic. The last thing I need is a fight on my property. I look up and down the street, hoping my neighbors are already out for the day. It’s a working-class neighborhood, nothing fancy, but now that I’m seeing things through Christopher’s eyes, I realize the people here are a little on the exclusive side. Snobby, wary of “outsiders.” Even the ones on my street, the ones at the bottom of the economic scale.
For all my tough talk inside the house, I know I don’t need a scandal.
They’re arguing quietly. I strain to hear. Christopher is keeping his voice low, tight. He holds up a hand now and then to remind the other man to keep his voice down. Every once in a while, his head turns so he can get a look at me. The other man’s eyes shift toward me, too.
“So this is your new girl, huh? Cute. You always had good taste.” The way his watery eyes run up and down my body makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. I pull my coat tighter around myself, making him laugh.
“Man, seriously. Listen. This isn’t the time or place. If you wanna talk, meet me out at the house. I’ll be happy to talk about anything you want. We can go right now.”
He stares hard at Christopher. “You act like you don’t know what I want to talk to you about. That’s hilarious.”
Christopher sighs deeply. “Fine. We’ll talk about her. Just not here.”
“No, I think here is the perfect place, and this is the perfect time.” He turns back toward me. “I want her to hear this.”
“This is my property,” I point out, trying to sound stronger than I feel. “I think it might be best for you to leave.” In my head, all I see is visions of a brawl on my front lawn.
“Fair enough. But don’t you wanna know about your boy here? Don’t you wanna know what he’s really capable of doing?”
“Derrick, stop.” Christopher’s voice is so low, I can hardly hear him. I barely make out t
he other man’s name.
“Don’t tell me to stop. Don’t you ever tell me what to do.”
“I don’t mean any disrespect.”
“Bullshit! Since when do you care about respect or disrespect?” Derrick laughs bitterly, a little too loudly. “If you gave a shit about respect, you wouldn’t show your face in this town ever again. You made a deal, which you’re breaking right now.”
“I know how you feel, man. But she needed me.” Christopher motions toward me. I’m stunned. Has he been banished or something? Is that why people are so nasty toward him? How much did he risk by coming to me last night?
Another bitter laugh. “I’m sure she did, buddy. Lots of women have needed you, haven’t they? Especially since Michelle.”
“Don’t talk that way in front of her.” Christopher nods his head in my direction.
“Don’t tell me how to talk! You wanna settle this right now?” Derrick’s aching for a fight.
I grip the porch railing so hard in my hands that I can feel the splinters in the wood. “Please, don’t. Stop this!” I might as well be shouting into the wind, they’re paying so little attention to me.
Derrick tries to work his hooded sweatshirt over his head, but he’s off-balance, staggering. His shirt, and the tee beneath it, ride up on his abdomen. I can see ink on his torso…then I realize he has the same angel in flames I’ve seen on Christopher’s torso.
He’s one of them! I watch even more closely. There’s so much animosity here. What happened between Christopher and the club to cause this?
A glimmer of hope flickers in my brain. If Christopher is on the outs with the club, that would mean he’d have nothing to do with them. Maybe he’s not involved with them anymore. Maybe he did something to alienate himself. Better yet, maybe he left the club of his own accord. Oh, I can hope, can’t I?
“Derrick, stop this. I don’t want to fight you.” Christopher is relaxed, hands at his sides. I know he could easily tear this stumbling, flabby man apart. He probably knows it, too.
Derrick finally gives up trying to remove the sweatshirt. He’s out of breath. “Why do you keep showing your face around here? Why do you keep starting shit?”
“I told you before. I wasn’t trying to start anything.”
“Oh, right, right. This girl needed you. Does she know who she slept with last night?”
I pull my coat around me again. I don’t like his intimate tone, the way he talks like he knows me. I especially don’t like the implication that Christopher is a monster. I’ve already done enough second-guessing.
“I’m begging you, man. I don’t beg anybody, but I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”
Derrick stares daggers at Christopher. “You’re begging? Did she beg at the last minute, too? Did she ask you not to do it?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve never known.”
Derrick scoffs, then turns his head to me. I feel sick. “You’re pretty good friends with this guy, huh?”
I shrug. “I guess so. We’re friends, yes.” I glance desperately at Christopher.
“So you know everything about him, huh?”
I can tell from his tone of voice this isn’t going anywhere nice. “I know who he is. I know where he’s from. If that’s what you mean.” I’m becoming distinctly uncomfortable now.
“Did he tell you how he killed my sister?” My eyes widen, making him smirk. “Yeah. My sister. His wife.”
Chapter 24
“Derrick, I’ve told you.” Christopher’s voice cuts through the silence like a knife.
But Derrick’s not paying attention to Christopher. He’s staring at me. “Right, right. You didn’t kill her. Okay.”
“Your sister?” I look at Christopher, desperate to make sense of this. Wishing he’d step in somehow and make it all go away.
Derrick laughs. “Yeah. I’m the prodigal brother-in-law. Or, seeing as how he’s the guy who killed her, maybe he’s the prodigal one. Not sure. It’s been a long time since I read the story.” He’s swaying on his feet, I notice. Already a little tipsy and it’s not even noon.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I feel like a jackass for saying it, but it’s the only thing I can come up with. This situation isn’t exactly indicative of my everyday life.
He seems to appreciate the thought, though. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” He turns his head toward Christopher. “A nice girl like this, a sweet girl. What the hell are you doing with her? Trying to ruin her life, too?”
“Derrick.” Christopher’s hands are in fists, hanging down by his sides. He’s beyond furious. I get the impression he’s only holding back for my sake. Or maybe he feels bad for this poor, drunk man.
“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” Derrick turns back to me. “Isn’t it?”
“Isn’t what? He’s not ruining my life.”
“Oh, really? Do you know how long it took for word to get around that Christopher Barton’s bike was sitting out in front of your house? How do you think I found him here in the first place?”
I’m not sure what to say now. My eyes find Christopher’s. He looks like a man who’s being proven right, but isn’t happy about it. Hadn’t he predicted this just minutes ago?
“People are talking?”
“You’re damn right they are. The Wicked Angels aren’t exactly loved around here. And they’re the only people in the area who ride motorcycles. A few people saw him riding through town last night. One of them saw him pull in here and run up the steps. Come on, guys.” He looks from me to Christopher, then back to me again.
I square my shoulders. “I don’t give a shit what people say.”
Derrick nods his head. “Very noble. Very brave.”
“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm. If that’s all you’ve come to say, you can leave now.”
“So you don’t care about your reputation. Fine.” He’s completely ignored me, continuing with his diatribe. “What about your life? What’s that mean to you?”
“Derrick, stop this.” Christopher moves a step closer to him.
“Do you know how she died? You never did answer me.”
“Yes. I know how your sister died. I read all about it. It was very sad.”
“Mhm. A gunshot wound, right to the chest. Point-blank range. Cold. Deliberate. Whoever killed her had to be looking her right in the eye. And then they left her there in the woods. Eyes open, looking up at the sky. I wonder how long she lived, if she had a moment or two when she knew she was dying. But at least she got a chance to look at the clouds one more time. We used to spread picnic blankets on the ground and spend hours on our backs, looking at the clouds. You know, when we were kids.”
I nod my head, struggling not to cry for this broken man. He’s so tormented.
“Either way, she died. And her body was left right there on the ground, for anything to get at her. At least they found her before the animals started eating her.” His voice breaks a little. “She might as well have been a piece of garbage, or a toy a kid got tired of and threw away. My sister. My fucking sister.” His voice breaks.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. He is.” Derrick jerks a thumb in Christopher’s direction.
“Derrick, come on. Let’s at least go inside. We can talk about this.”
“I’m fine out here. Don’t start thinking about this nice girl’s reputation now. You’ve already fucked her life up enough, man. It’s too late.” He looks at me again. “Did he tell you they matched the bullet they found in my sister’s body?”
“What?” I’d only read they’d found no weapon. I glance at Christopher.
“Oh, yeah. They didn’t find the actual gun, but they know the sort of weapon it came from. A Glock 19. Guess who carries a Glock 19? Or at least he used to, before he killed my sister with it.”
I look at Christopher again, my eyes searching his. This can’t be true. The look on his face tells me it is.
“D
id I forget to tell you the best part?”
“Best part?”
“Okay, bad choice of words, maybe. My sister didn’t die in just any woods. She died in the woods behind Christopher’s house.”
All the air leaves my lungs in one big whooshing noise, as though I’ve been punched in the stomach. All I can do is stare at Christopher. The last bit of the story has finally been revealed, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s been taken apart by this sad, drunk man on my lawn.
