LOCK

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LOCK Page 3

by Debra Anastasia


  One of the girls was about my age. She had on the apron they seemed to give all the workers. Her shell-shocked face cemented the reality. These people could have died. Maybe even at the hands of the men who protected me.

  Shit.

  Had my guys escalated it? I mean, Lock had been thrown through the window. The level of violence seemed set when that happened.

  Out the back door, Bowen and Wardon put Lock in the back hatch of the SUV. I crawled past them and maneuvered myself behind his head. The rear seats were still set to flat to accommodate the packed bags before.

  I focused on the bleeding again. My jacket had been wedged between the men and could still sop up the blood.

  Wardon came through the middle doors and sliced up Lock’s jeans until he found the wound, a deep, evil-looking gash in his leg.

  I rebunched my jacket and handed it to Wardon. The SUV roared and it was put in gear, moving even before Thrice had the driver’s door shut.

  I focused on Lock’s head. Just keeping it still. I pictured his head bouncing off the floor. None of it was encouraging. His body was big. He was lean but strong. What an incredible waste to lose him. I tried to assess what he had going on. The interior of the vehicle was dark, so I used my phone as a flashlight. His face seemed to be swelling as I watched; his hands were battered, like he’d fought for his life. The leg was the worst of it, the laceration so deep. I knew there were arteries that were horrible to sever. I prayed this bleeding wasn’t from one of them. I slid my phone back into my pocket.

  And what about the other people at the restaurant? I smoothed my hand over his forehead, my eyes traveling across his broken body; that red bandana was still wound around his wrist. The men who’d thrown him through the window, who started the attack, had all been wearing them, too. There was probably a connection. I wondered what it could be. Maybe a gang affiliation?

  Nix’s voice filled the SUV as the guys recounted the whole incident over speakerphone. He had to be assured twice that I was okay. I even called out, “Hey, Nix,” so he could move on.

  Lock’s eyes opened. “Ember? That’s your name?”

  “Seriously? You’re bleeding out. You’re still trying to get with me?”

  He attempted a smile. “If I die now, I’ll be so pissed.”

  Nix and Thrice went back and forth about the security cameras. We could all hear the clattering of Nix’s keyboard. In between searching for whatever he was doing, he was berating Thrice, Bowen, and Wardon. He was angry. And for the first time ever, I got to feel what it was like to be on the receiving end of his wrath. It was terrifying.

  I gazed down at Lock again. He seemed to be forcing his eyes open to stare at me. “Can’t believe they make girls this hot.“

  “Quit spitting your lines and concentrate on not dying.”

  “Lines are lies. I’m telling the truth.”

  And like a light switch was flipped, he was off again. His overwhelming presence evacuated, his face went slack, and his eyes rolled into his head. His eyelids didn’t even close all the way, showing me a peek of white.

  I tuned back into the conversation, gently touching the bruises and cuts Lock had all over. He’d been beaten to hell. A lump formed in my throat at the thought. The violence he’d been a party to was horrifying.

  Wardon met my gaze. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Will it?” I knew I didn’t live in a fairy tale. This was cold, hard life. People died and almost died all the time.

  Nix and Thrice had decided to drop off Lock as a John Doe at the hospital a few towns over. I immediately fought the idea of leaving him by himself. Surely someone should stay, be his voice. Find his family. Nix gave me his rationale: that we were all a party to the violence in the pizza parlor. The police could be looking for me. I had no idea how much damage my guys had done while I was dealing with Lock under the table. I assumed a lot, because we’d walked out.

  “It’s settled. Drop him off and drive her home.” Nix hung up the phone, making my decision before I could add my thoughts.

  Wardon touched my hand—the one that was now on Lock’s shoulder. “We’ll talk to him.”

  It was nice of him to offer, but this was between my brother and me.

  Chapter 4

  Lock

  WAKING UP DEAD WAS the worst. I’ve done it enough times to recognize the metallic taste of blood lining my mouth.

  Her.

  If I was alive, I wanted to be with her.

  I tried to place my surroundings, my brain immediately protesting the horrible game of Twister I’d tried to play with it.

  Hospital. ER. Fuck. It was always so expensive here. I knew not to answer the question about my name out loud. Because that’s how they find out who you are. And how to bill you. We had enough bills.

  Her.

  I met her. The most beautiful girl in the world. Hidden under a table, on the worst night of my life. Well, not the worst. My father getting arrested was the worst night.

  Only thing that could’ve been worse would have been if I’d actually died. Not this time. I closed my eyes. I had to reassess my world. I needed to find out about my mom. My sister.

  I replayed everything from the night before. I had started a war with the Cokes—the guys who wore red bandanas and controlled my neighborhood, the local branch of the Dutch family, which basically ran this city. Both legal and illegal ventures. To save a girl that they had drugged.

  The fisticuffs I’d started did not end well for me, but she’d gotten away. The girl who had been their prey. I’d caused enough of a distraction that she was able to get out to the road, even as tipsy as she was. A cop had spotted her and helped her into his patrol car.

  They’d stopped my beating to tell me they were going to kill me. Which sucked. But when I figured out the reason, I started gloating, telling them that my mother hits harder than they do. That didn’t go well either. I have a big mouth and sometimes impulse control issues.

  They’d body-slammed me in the back of a pickup truck, and the next thing I knew I was getting tossed through a window. My ribs, which already hated me, actively tried to puncture shit inside me that I needed.

  And then there was her. It was well known that the Cokes weren’t the brightest crayons stuck in the toolbox. But tossing me into a pizza parlor made no sense at all. That was asking for more trouble in a night already filled with it. First, the cops dealing with the drugged girl—and now making a spectacle out of teaching me my lesson by trashing a pizza parlor. Anyway, I had a feeling I had accidently been the beginning of the end of the Cokes. I’d been a member for less than twelve hours.

  Fuck.

  But her.

  Under the table. The long brown hair streaked with a rainbow of colors. Her huge blue eyes wide with confusion at our surroundings. The bloodshed and the violence. But that was my baseline. It was my home. I could help her. When I got to her, she was full of concern for me, pulling me to her. Embracing me to try to keep me safe of all damn things. Her hands were a bit cold, but so, so soft. Her lips had been very close, plump and ready to be kissed. I’ve heard my whole life that beauty is only skin deep, but it turns out my balls were deaf. They only responded to the visual. And she was extraordinary. Just the shape of her face and the way the dice was rolled in her favor genetically was captivating. The slope of her nose, the shape of her brow. Her very, very comfortable tits that I got to put my dead head on. Long legs. Her voice with a hint of wiseass.

  Seeing her was like falling off a cliff. Stepping in lava. After it happened, everything else was different. My DNA was changed. My actual human existence was altered. And she was feisty, too. I’d heard her bossing around the guys with her. She had no fear of them. It was hot.

  Love, or more likely lust, at first sight. I opened up my eyes. Slowly. I was delirious with the need to see her again. I was ready to make even more stupid decisions to get closer to her. I remembered her hair falling over my face as she checked over my bleeding limbs. And my balls only imagined o
ne other scenario where that could happen again. When she was sitting on them.

  Thinking about sex right now was stupid. Blood was not meant to rush anywhere after you’d been through what I’d been through.

  It made me lightheaded. I was going to die getting a boner. And if it was embedded in her, it would be worth it.

  The nurse was in my hospital room now. I heard her humming the latest Kendrick Lamar song to herself. She had good taste. I was still going to pretend that I was unconscious. She checked my vitals, I was guessing, before leaving.

  I had to sneak out as soon as I could. But first, I had to nap for a few hours, or days. When I could walk, I would find her. No matter what.

  Chapter 5

  Ember

  NIX AND ANIMAL WERE standing in my dorm room. Just another way to solidify my image as the really, really weird girl who had swarms of deadly looking guys around her on campus. I’d been here three days and I already had a reputation. The other students would cross to the other side of the road when they saw me with my three (yes, always the three—no one was allowed to take turns anymore after the pizza parlor) bodyguards. An assassin and a mob boss sent out “get away from me” signals even if they weren’t trying to.

  Nix had his arms crossed, dark jeans and a hoodie, but the hood was down. I could see his whole tatted skull. “Listen, you being this far away is a liability. That’s all I’m saying. I can’t get here. I mean, see how long it took me this time. I need to be close enough to get to you.”

  He’d started most of his sentences with the word “I” in our conversation—the control freak.

  “Can you update me on Lock?” I wanted to get that out of him before I tore into him—and I would. It was coming.

  Nix scowled at my change of subject, but Animal cut in, “He bolted from the hospital in the middle of the night. We perused the camera footage. He played dead when he arrived on the gurney. Then snuck out safely. No one was waiting on him or anything. So we have to assume he’s safe.”

  I’d find out more from Animal in good time. At least he was able to treat me like a person.

  Nix was winding himself up again. “If I can’t get to you, anything can happen. I don’t even know who’s in charge of the criminal element out here. Just come home. Let me do research and I’ll pick you a school that ticks all the boxes I need ticked.”

  I thought of Lock being here. Ten hours away. I sat down heavily on my bed as Nix exhausted his speech. Animal made a face; both he and I knew I wasn’t about to accept the new gospel according to Nix.

  “How many times did you start a sentence with the word ‘I’ in this diatribe?” I met my brother’s gaze.

  Nix blinked a couple of times.

  “I’ll save you the counting. A lot. You put yourself and your needs first in this scenario.” I crossed my arms across my chest. “I know I’m one of your stalkees. I’m one of the women you feel like you need to control. But I’m also a person.”

  “You’re my sister. My job.”

  “But not your friend.” I lifted my eyebrow.

  He put his hand on his chest. I knew my name was inked under the fabric there. Embedded in his skin. It was a measure of his devotion, but he wasn’t allowed to turn it into a leash for me.

  “You’ve stayed out of my life. You’ve left me out of some of the most important decisions of my upbringing. Not anymore. This is not a democracy. I’m nineteen. I’m in charge of me. And I know you’re paying for this place...” I gestured to my room. “But I don’t need you to. I can get a job, take out student loans. And I will. Having three men with me is not realistic. And frankly, it’s making me more of a target because everyone is wondering about me. I just want to blend in. And it’s what I will do.”

  It seemed like the veins in his neck were feeding piping hot water straight to his brain.

  Animal stood and put a hand on my shoulder. “Baby Girl, this isn’t the best town if you’re in a gang fight a few hours in. I mean, sure, you should have your autonomy, but you have to see things from Nix’s point of view. There are only so many options he and I have when it comes to you.”

  I turned to Animal. His deep brown eyes were inviting. I gave him the once-over I always did. He was a visual gift to girls everywhere. I’d be wasting my vagina if I didn’t indulge in a tiny bit of eye screwing. His smile slid to the side—he knew what I was doing. His devotion to Nix made me jealous. Their bond was unflinching. And I knew Animal would be here for me forever, if only because I was related to Nix. I wondered what it would be like to inspire such devotion on my own, just because I was who I was. And what did they do that made them so bound to each other? Were they killing people? I mean, I assumed as much. Maybe selling drugs? Though that didn’t seem likely. It was out of character for my brother. Nix seemed to want to do the wrong things for the right reasons. And drugs hurt a lot of people.

  “I’m not yours. And I’m not his.” I pointed to Nix. “And don’t punch the wall. I’m not interested in paying for that. Or for having your anger as a permanent decoration in my place. I’m staying.” I held up my hands, warding off Nix’s immediate negative response. “Nineteen-year-old girls all over the world are in school. Doing their thing. Getting their education. And I’m going to be one of them. No men lurking. I want parties and study groups and walking home from the bars at ungodly times in the morning.”

  Nix was just repeatedly shaking his head, a small, furious movement. I had compassion then. T had told me how it had been for him—that he could love anyone after what he’d been through was stunning. He barely survived. And kindness was not a thing he got to experience on the regular. Animal and Merck were his family, or at least the closest he had to one. Which was ironic, given that Merck was possibly my dad.

  I stood up from my bed and walked up to him. “Thank you. Thank you for caring this much about me. I never had a dad. Or a brother around. But this?” I touched his chest where I knew my name was inked. He covered my hand with his. I watched his anger ratchet down notches. “Makes me so whole. In places I didn’t know were broken. Because this control shit? It’s how you love. And you love me. And you’ve pissed me off, but you won’t lose me.”

  Nix cracked then and pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, knowing that under the hoodie his spine was intricately etched with ink. There was ink covering every inch of him— the barrier separating him from everyone else.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry that’s not normal. And I can’t promise normal. But I can’t lose you.” Nix kissed the top of my head.

  “This isn’t losing me. It’s me finding who I am. Putting me in a cage doesn’t help me become an adult. I need to make decisions that have real consequences. I picked this school because it has a great art program. I want to expand my mind. My experiences.” I tilted my face toward his. “You’re going to have to let me fly a little.”

  Animal excused himself from the room. He was good at knowing what state Nix was in, and apparently my hug had de-escalated the tension enough for him to leave.

  “Ah, shit.” Nix patted my back as he released me. I sat down next to him on my mattress.

  “Your knowing where I am all the time eases your mind, but it isn’t making my life full. I’m not a bird in a cage or a gerbil on a wheel.” I touched the back of his hand to make him look at me.

  “I’m not good at this, the part where I hear what people say. I’m still learning about that.”

  I put my head on Nix’s shoulder and sighed. Nix knew more about my mom than I did. Well, our mom. He was young when she was murdered but had spoken to her. Laughed with her. Sang with her. Maybe. I didn’t know. I was desperate for information about her, but the climate of Nix’s house didn’t leave space for questions about her.

  But now felt right. “Tell me about her.”

  Nix cleared his throat. It took him a few moments to either think of something or gain his composure. Maybe both.

  “Uh. She looked like you—you know that. She was soft.” He th
readed his bone-tatted fingers together. I stayed silent. Because I was asking him to remember the before. Before the murder.

  “We spent so much time together, wondering if he would be home. If he’d be angry. I remember hugging her and knowing that when her heart started to race, when the thumping in her chest was frantic, it was time to hide. I wish I hadn’t hidden. What I expected to do, I don’t know, but still. She was protecting me. When I should’ve been protecting her.”

  “You were a child.” I had to defend him—even to himself. I was seeing his weakness now, this protection he took so seriously. It was obsessive because he was always picturing the worst. The things he saw on the daily—memories painted on the back of his eyelids.

  “You know, looking back, I feel like I’m timeless. Ageless. When I think about her, I picture this version of me. This size. This knowledge. It wasn’t that way. Of course.” He shrugged. He made eye contact. “She had a beautiful singing voice. Sang for me. Not in front of anyone else. Said I was part of her so she’d never be embarrassed to sing in front of me.”

  I liked that. Picturing her singing. There were so few actual photos of her, like her murderous husband had stolen her identity along with her future. “Wish I could have heard her.”

  “She sang to you when you were in her belly. Had a song. Let me think.”

  He warbled an off-key song.

  “Baby, you are the reason

  Time to change the season

  I’ll hold you all day long

  Until you’re nice and strong.”

  I smiled. It was nice to think about her thinking about me. “You have a horrible singing voice.”

  Nix started laughing. “That I do.” He stood, pulling his hood up and zipping his jacket.

  I folded my legs and stayed on my bed. “So, we’re in agreement? I stay here and you take your goons back with you?”

  He looked at the floor for a few minutes. I let him have the time.

 

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