by K. L. Savage
I toss the broken ceramic chunks in the trash, then grab a towel and clean up. The floor molts and moves, sways and dips, and I gasp. Someone is standing in front of me.
“No!” I scream and scurry away until my back hits the cabinet. The handle digs into the space of my shoulder and spine, a bruise I’ll feel tomorrow.
It’s my mother. She’s in the dress we buried her in, drenched in dirt. Her skin is pale, and the gunshot wound in her head bleeds.
“You aren’t real. You aren’t real,” I repeat, unable to take my eyes off her. Another form appears behind her.
Her mouth opens, her jaw continuing to the floor as she screams ‘run’ at me. My father is behind her, gun drawn. My heart is hammering as I stagger to my feet watching the horror unfold. The gunshot rings out. I hold my hands over my ears and close my eyes with a scream.
The ringing stops.
I can smell the gunpowder, like a bonfire’s smoke clinging to someone’s clothes. I peek one eye open to see if they are there, but the space is empty.
What if my mom didn’t kill herself? What if I’ve been suppressing the truth?
I glance at the clock and see it’s past ten a.m. and decide to get the hell out of here. I’m going to the hospital, and when I’m done, I’m going to find Tongue. I’m safer with him than I am here. I know that. I feel that. He would never lay a hand on me.
I run to my room and grab my purse, then sprint toward the front door. I step outside, one arm on the door handle as I turn around to take one last look at the place that’s haunted my mind for far too long. Daddy’s fear is no longer going to control me. I’m not going to fall into his ways again. Something about seeing my mother scream at me felt familiar, all too familiar. Like how it is with Tongue.
Which means I’ve experienced it before.
Damn this house.
Damn my mind.
But I won’t damn what I feel.
My gut feeling is all I have to go on right now, and my gut is telling me to get the fuck out of here. My blue Converse sink into the mud as I cut through the pathetic front lawn and jump over a broken lawn gnome.
When I get to the road, I take a right and start the long journey to the hospital. It isn’t too hot today since there is cloud coverage, but the air is still sticky. I swear, I can smell the rotten core of Bourbon Street too.
Like trash and booze.
And after a few days out in the New Orleans weather, that smell can even make a raccoon turn its nose up.
The sound of a motorcycle has me looking up from my feet to see down the dusty street. As it gets closer, a few bees fly around me, since I’m passing wildflowers. They don’t bother me. A slap to the face doesn’t hurt worse than a bee sting.
The bike rolls to a slow stop and Tongue places his feet on the ground. “What’s my Comet doing out here all alone?” he takes off his sunglasses and grabs my chin. “Did he do that to your face?”
I lower my lashes, staring at the mud on my shoes.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.” The gravel lodged in his throat makes me want to jump inside him so he can lull me to a deep sleep. His fingers play with a strand of my hair and he tucks it behind my ear. His lips are on my cheek next, warm and soft, a complete contradiction to the tough armor he wears. “No one hurts my Comet without paying a price.”
My clit throbs. I don’t understand why I’m turned on by him threatening to kill my father, but I am. Something about being overly protected has me wanting to mount him right on his bike. Maybe it’s because the man who I was supposed to count on in life didn’t do a bang-up job at protecting me, and now that I have it in spades, I want every ounce of protective instinct he can give me.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Comet. I’m not going to push you, but I want you to know how much I want to kiss you. I’ve missed your lips.” His hot breath tickles the space under my ear and goosebumps travel all over my body, tightening my nipples from the chill.
And it is far from cold outside.
“Everywhere. I’ve missed your lips everywhere. My mouth, my neck, my chest—”
I whimper.
“My cock,” his voice turns dark and sinful, twisting its way into my soul like a cruel addiction.
My mouth waters, and I ache to taste him in the back of my throat.
“I miss worshipping your body.”
I turn toward him, our lips inches apart, and that familiar feeling returns.
I think I miss all those things too.
No.
I know I do.
“Kiss me,” I say breathlessly, staring at the full red lips. My fingers hover over his cheeks because I’m afraid to touch him.
Afraid because he’s the most magnificent man I’ve ever seen. His stubble scratches my palm and his head tilts back, so I roam down his neck, then over his shoulders and he grabs my hips. He groans when I skim along his pecs, feeling the muscle tense.
From me.
“Kiss—”
My words are silenced as he pushes our bodies together and slams his lips onto mine.
A flash of us tangled in the sheets slams against my mind. don’t know if it’s me thinking about what I want or what I’ve already had with him.
But I want it again.
And again.
Our tongues tangle, and he rocks my hips over the intimidatingly long erection tenting his jeans. I have to break away from him for a minute to catch my breath and a slight whine escapes me when he hits the bundle of electrified nerves.
He shoves me away, and for a moment I think it’s because of something I did when he unzips his pants, fishes out his cock, grips the thick meat, and pumps twice.
“Comet,” he shouts my name into the sky for any and all to hear, points his cock to the dirt, and comes.
My eyes widen as I watch the thick streams paint the ground. “Holy Moly,” I rasp in awe.
“Ah, fuck yes. I told you,” he gasps. “I’ve missed you so fucking much. Look what you do to me.” He squeezes the last droplet out of the slit, and I don’t know what comes over me, but the pearly drop is too pretty to deny. I bend down and lick it off the hot, red crown. His salty taste slides down my throat, and now I wish it hadn’t all gone to waste on the ground.
He wraps his hands around my hair and pulls me back. “I might have come quick because I’ve missed you so goddamn bad, but my cock is always ready for round two. You suck me, I’m going to bend you over this bike and fuck you, Comet. My recovery time is impeccable. Don’t you fucking forget that, and it always will be when it comes to you.”
I moan against his neck and rock my hips onto his knee as I straddle him. I ache to be filled by him. I claw at his back and create as much friction as I can.
“That’s it, Comet. Use me. “
“I want you.” I have an eagle’s eye view of his cock.
“Not until you remember.”
“Why?” I cry out in frustration, dry humping his thigh harder.
He wraps a hand around my throat and forces me to meet his flushed face. “Because I need you to remember how much you love me.”
My orgasm crashes over me and Tongue’s arm wraps around my waist as I fall against him. I’m gasping the humid air and my entire body is shaking with aftershocks. I grin as he pushes the hair from my forehead. “I want to do that again.”
“That’s my Comet,” he laughs, searching my eyes for… memories.
“I’m sorry, I don’t…”
“It’s okay. I mean it.” He gives me a kiss on top of my head, then sighs as he pulls away. He tucks himself in. Even semi-hard, he is big. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m only so strong, Comet. Hop on and hold on tight.” He pats the seat behind him, then hands me his helmet. “Are you going to see your Aunt Tina?”
“How did you know?”
“I know everything about you.”
If any other man said that to me, I’d be scared, but knowing he cares so much to find out everything about me has that silly organ in my chest trippi
ng over itself.
I throw my leg over the bike and settle in behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist and his rough hands that promise a hard day’s work caress me for moment. My skin is alive, I’m alive, and I smile for the first time since…
Probably since I saw him last.
“Feels so good to have your hands on me,” he admits. “You scared me when I woke up alone in bed and you were nowhere to be found.”
“You were scared? You don’t look like a man that scares easy,” I reply, resting my cheek against his back. The leather of his cut is warm from the day, but comfortable against the bruise on my cheek.
“I do when it comes to you. Always when it comes to you.” He cranks the bike again, and the vibrations tickle between my legs, igniting another round of sensations.
Why can’t the veil in my mind go away? Why can I remember how he makes me feel but I can’t remember what we have built together?
He does a U-turn in the middle of the empty road and applies pressure on the throttle. We speed down the narrow street, passing a blur of trees on either side of us. My hair whips behind me and the ends sting my shoulders as they lash around me, snapping like serpents.
It feels right. Being here, with him. Even if I never remember, I know where I’m meant to be and that is where he is.
We pass the loud jazz of the French Quarter, and I wish he and I could spend the night experiencing the wild haunts of New Orleans.
All too soon he is pulling up to the hospital. I undo the strap under my chin and take off the helmet, then hop off the bike. My legs are tingling and wobbly. I giggle when I stumble, and he catches me.
“You okay, Comet?” he asks with a crooked grin, one that doesn’t show teeth.
“Yeah, I think I’ll be alright. I’ll see you later, right?”
“In every dark corner you can find,” he states.
As I stare at his face, I have one thing repeating in my head.
How can I love a man when the only memory I have is the one my heart tells me?
My Comet is crazy if she thinks I’m going to let her go in there alone.
I park my bike in the nearest spot, place my helmet on the seat, and follow in after her. I don’t want her to feel smothered, especially after what happened between us. I didn’t expect that. I was on my way over to check on her when she was walking down the road.
And one thing led to another…
It always does with us.
Memory be damned.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and send a voice message to Reaper. “I’m at the hospital now. I’ll update you if I see her father and I’ll act accordingly.” I press the send button, then press the audio message again. “I won’t kill him here,” I clarify. “No matter how much I want to.” I press send again and tuck the phone in my back pocket.
I pass the lady at the front desk. She’s too busy taking on the phone to notice me slip by. Only family members can get into intensive care right now, and that’s where Daphne is headed. I keep my eye on her back and make sure she gets to her aunt’s room safely. I hide behind the closest wall and peek my head around the corner to see her talking to the doctor. A smile ghosts over her face and then tears drip down her cheek.
I’d kill him for making her cry if they didn’t look like happy tears.
She turns around, after giving the male doctor a hug, and heads toward a door on the far left. When she opens it, I rush after her and stop the door from shutting with my boot, then dip inside, then dart into the bathroom. I crack the door so I can listen.
Why am I doing this again? Her Aunt knows me. If anything, she can verify who I am… which might not be a good thing.
I’ll stay right here for now.
“Aunt Tina,” Daphne’s cries. “You’re awake. Oh my god, I came as soon as Daddy called.”
“No,” her Aunt cries. “No, you… you… need… to leave. Your dad… Your dad is not who he says. He…. he… did…” she struggles to say as her heart rate monitor starts to race.
“Aunt Tina? Aunt Tina! Someone help her!” Daphne’s pain screams throughout the halls, and I want to go out there and pull her to safety, but I know I can’t. Not yet.
A stampede of doctors and nurses fly into the room. “Wait outside,” they say to Daphne.
“No! She’s my aunt. I can’t leave her.”
“Ma’am, we will get you when everything is settled. Wait outside, please,” the nurse says with a stern, no argument tone.
I watch through the crack as Daphne gets pushed out the door. I hate to see her cry. I hate to see her hurt. I wish I could take all of her pain away and protect her from all the horrible things this world has to offer. That isn’t realistic.
But I can try.
I’m not sure how long I hide in the bathroom, but I hear the doctors speak a flurry of medical words I don’t understand and then declare her stable.
Thank fuck.
One by one, two white coats and a nurse in blue scrubs leave the room.
It’s a long shot that her dad will come here today, but we can’t be too safe. We have to protect her aunt at all costs and it’s better if Daphne doesn’t know the plan, so she doesn’t feel like she has to lie to her dad.
Even if the man is a piece of shit, she will love him for the simple fact that he is her father. A privilege he will never deserve.
“I… know… you’re… there….”
Aunt Tina’s struggling words have me stepping out from the bathroom and into the shadow the room keeps, which is usually close to the wall or in a corner. Her blue eyes follow mine as I stand against the wall.
“How did you know?”
“She said… your… energy… buzzed the room every time…you entered it,” she coughs, then licks her dry lips.
I come around the edge of the bed and grab the water pitcher off the stand and pour her a paper cup full. I bring it to her mouth and she greedily chugs it down. “Thank you,” she croaks.
If the desert had a voice, it would be Tina’s right now.
“Do you know what’s going on with Daphne?”
She shakes her head and swallows.
“She doesn’t remember anything about me, us, or Vegas. She found out her dad wasn’t her dad. Come to find out, her mom had a thing with Mercy, a close friend of the club. Then her piece of shit father calls and tells her to come home because you’re in the hospital. Why can’t she remember?”
“She shuts down… when… she thinks… she’s protecting herself, when the truth is… too close to the… surface.”
That has me straightening my spine. “You knew how her mom died?”
She nods and a tear runs down her cheek. “I… tried… to get her away… but… I had no proof. Her dad… brainwashes her somehow and she… believes everything he says.”
“She’s a daughter looking for her father’s love,” I say in sadness.
Tina agrees and I pluck a tissue from the Kleenex holder and dab her cheeks dry. She hisses when I apply too much pressure. “Sorry.” It sounds like a weak apology, which means it probably is. “Did you know about Mercy?”
Her lip trembles and she stares at the ceiling, her eyes filling to the brim. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell Daphne!” I hiss, and I mean to sound as deadly as I can, because I’m close to taking a pillow and killing her for what she did. How long did she let Daphne suffer needlessly?
“Michelle… made me…promise not to say a word… I didn’t… know… he… was alive.”
“Very much so, and he has an axe to fucking grind. You people have got to start telling the truth.” I lace my fingers behind my head and wonder what position this puts me in now. If she feels like everyone has lied to her, she’ll close herself off from everyone, and who knows what her mind will conjure up to scare her. “Why didn’t you tell her about the money?”
“She was determined… to work hard… for herself. Money wouldn’t have mattered.”
I worry my bottom lip as I stare out
the window into the parking lot. My mind whirls with how to protect Daphne, but I don’t know how anymore. Everyone around her has lied. I don’t want to be lumped in with those people. If there is one thing our relationship has been built on, it’s honesty.
“I’m giving her time to remember me on her own without trying to push her, but you and her dad and her mom… you guys are making that really fucking hard.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it. Sorry doesn’t make her worries go away, does it? Lying to her all her life, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I was… protecting… her too. In… my own way.”
I get in her face, my arms gripping the sides of the hospital bed to cage her head with my arms. The whites of her eyes are red from busted blood vessels and she has a busted top lip. “You chose wrong.”
“I… know.”
I straighten, not expecting her to admit her wrongs, but she does.
“You’ll take… care of her? She’s… never had that.”
“She will always have that with me,” I say honestly, just as a doctor hurries into our room, slams the door and leans against it. He’s sweaty and pale.
And reeks of fear.
When he sees me, his eyes widen, and he stays low to the ground, then dives to the right to get hidden by a wall. “Don’t panic,” he stammers.
While panicking.
I’m impressed with no one here. Everyone is a goddamn pussy.
I stomp over and pick the twig up by the collar of his white jacket and slam him against the wall. His toes drag along the ground. “How about you don’t panic and tell me what has your panties in a twist, doc.”
“The hospital is on lockdown. No one in. No one out.”
“Why?” I growl.
“There’s a man with a gun and he has a hostage. He’s on this floor,” the doctor squirms.
A gunshot echoes outside and the hallways act as tunnels to make everyone’s screams travel.
“Daphne,” I gasp with horror, wearing the same fear as the man in front of me. “What does the man look like? The hostage?” I slam him against the wall again.
“I don’t know,” he begins to cry.
I slap him across the face and push my own fear aside. “Fucking get it together and be a man. What does he look like? And If don’t tell me, I’ll gut you right here, right now. I’m just as dangerous as the man outside, only I’m giving you a chance to live, so fucking tell me!” I roar as quickly as I can so no one can hear us.
