by Renee Rocco
If I could freeze this afternoon and bottle it, I swear, I would, because I know it won’t last.
Nothing good does.
“Girl, with your face and figure, we have to turn you out right. Especially since you’re, like, the new shiny toy.”
“You’re insane, you know that, right?”
Ava tosses her curls, her laughter drawing the attention of the other shoppers. The trio of women cast an envious glance our way. They’re a subtle summer breeze to Ava’s gale wind, and when she blows them a kiss, one of the women turns magenta and ducks her head to go back to picking through the racks.
“They’re not local, poor things.” She nods at the women. “Probably gotta go home and do it all missionary-style with some beta-ass man who couldn’t find a clit if Magellan himself drew him a map.” She brushes against me as she selects the next outfit I have to try on. “Here. If you wear this, all the guys are going to want to play with you.”
First, kudos to Ava for knowing Magellan. To hell with the people who claim Mayhem’s schools are trash.
And second, “I don’t want anyone playing with me.”
Liar.
I want Wraith to play with me because wow. His mouth. But I have no time to think about what he did to my vagina with his tongue because Ava’s on the move.
“Whatever you say.” She waves her hand through the air, a note of disbelief ripe in her tone as she spins on her heel. The action sends her riot of curls swinging behind her. If Brave’s Merida came to life, it’d be in the form of Ava Murphy. “Let’s get back to you and this awful dress. We don’t know each other too good yet, but trust me, sis, I won’t steer you wrong. You don’t want to show up at Sanctum in this thing. And why would you want to? You’re young. Gorgeous. You’re going to have the men eating out of your hand.”
I’d like to have Wraith eating out of my hand, thank you very much.
After Wraith introduced me to the wonderful world of the orgasm, we’ve done plenty of kissing. Lots of touching. Tons of cuddling. But it always ends there. Like he’s retreated into himself. Holding back hasn’t been easy, but I’ve been respectful of his space because I understand what he’s suffering even if it’s gone unspoken. Truth is, though, I want to jump that man’s bones so bad, it’s taken everything I’ve got to keep my hands to myself.
“I don’t like being the object of attention.”
Ava purses her plump pink lips, smacks them, and then takes a step back. She gives me a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, well, you should. And trust me, the Unholy are arrogant. They’re used to getting their way. You want to give them an inch, but you have to careful they don’t take a mile. You gotta be a hurricane. See me? I swoop in and spin everything around.” She makes a twisting motion with her finger. “That’s how you have to do it with these men. You need to stay in control, but in a way that makes them think they have the upper hand. Come on. Let’s see what’s over there. Keep the yellow dress for, like, everyday clothes, but we’re finding you something special for the barbecue. If I bring you home with only one or two outfits, Crow will pitch a fit. Promised him I’d spend all his money. Do you know I remember when you killed your dad? I was only thirteen, I think, but I remember the whole town talked about it for months. My dad was good to me, thank God. Cancer got him three years ago, though. My mom didn’t waste any time getting remarried. She left with her new husband before my dad was even cold. Haven’t talked to her since.” She hooks her arm through mine and pulls me along. “Anyway, you went to school with the guys, huh? I want all the dirty deets on them.”
Hurricane? No. More like Ava is a tsunami and it takes a massive amount of energy and brain power to keep up with her. It leaves nothing left for me to dwell on the usual worries that occupy my mind.
I love it, honestly, and for a little while, I actually feel my age. I’ve gotten used to living beyond my years, and I often forget I’m only twenty-four. But today, I’m standing taller. Moving faster. Talking more. And by the time we get to Blanche’s Diner for an early dinner, I’m exhausted and starving and it’s awesome.
Crammed in a booth with bags stuffed all around us, I sit across from Ava and eat my first cheeseburger in years. David kept me on a diet to maintain my borderline unhealthily slender weight. Basically, I’ve been as hungry living with him as I was when homeless. Bet your ass I devour my entire deliciously greasy meal.
“So, what’d you do in Florida?”
I pick at the last of my fries. “Nothing. I was utterly useless, Ava, if you want to know the truth.”
“Well, whatever you did brought Wraith home. Doesn’t seem so useless to me.”
I’m careful with what I say because Wraith warned me only certain people know where he’s been. “He wanted to come home.” The food becomes a brick sitting in my stomach. “I just had to figure out a way to get him here.”
Ava sucks in her lips and shakes her head. “Yeah, well, most folks don’t help people these days”
“Wraith and I aren’t most people when we’re together,” I whisper. “And I had nothing left to lose.”
“Well.” Ava slaps the table, beaming me a wide smile. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”
“Yep, here I am,” I echo on a sigh, not at all sure what I’m supposed to do once David is…gone. I’ve lived my life surviving moment to moment. Never looking ahead at what might come after. Now, I’m lost. But I’m not worrying about that today. I want to enjoy this moment. “So, what do you do?”
Given Ava’s bubbly personality, I imagine if sprinkling sunshine on people was a job, that’d be her profession.
“I work at Devil’s Den.”
“The Devil’s Den?”
“One and the same.” She devours the last of her cheeseburger. “When I first started there, I was terrified of Shotgun. I mean, come on, look at him. With that long beard and those eyes. And don’t even get me started on his surly attitude. Ugh. Terrifying.” She shudders dramatically. “But once I got to know him, I realized he is all bark and no bite, especially when it comes to his girls. I just love him to death.”
I’ve never met the notorious Shotgun, but I can’t imagine anyone who owns an establishment with a reputation as black as Devil’s Den’s can be anything other than ferocious.
But wow. Never thought Ava would be right smack in the center of it all. “Bartender?”
“Stripper.”
This little firecracker, this Disney princess come to life, pins me with those frosty blue eyes. Waiting. Smirking…
As if I’m anyone to judge someone.
I raise my glass of water. “Well, cheers to you, Ava. May the men make it rain on you like a damn torrent.”
Ava lifts her soda. “Cheers to you, Jamie. May you be a merry widow whose vagina never stretches to a blown-out sweat sock.”
“Amen to that, sister.”
Problem is, after sleeping with my ass snuggled up against Wraith’s groin for the last week, I’ve got a good idea of what’s between his legs, and it’s safe to say if we do have sex, my poor vagina will be utterly ruined.
Thank God.
It’s about time that cobwebbed cave got a good excavation.
Apple Grove Park is as cozy as I remember. Maybe even more so because I’ve been away for years, and my eyes are starved for something beautiful.
Ava was reluctant to drop me off here, but after ten minutes of arguing the issue, she realized she was fighting an unwinnable war. She insisted on taking the bags back to Wraith’s house rather than have me lug them through town, which was nice of her. But after all the chaos, I need to decompress.
I walk to the edge of Dyberry Creek and slip off my sneakers. I shove my socks in the shoes and leave them on the bank. The thin brook snakes around the mountainside and runs the length of the town. The grass is cold, and the dirt damp. I hike up the hem of my brown dress, and as I did when I was a kid, I splash around in the icy water with a stifled giggle. Me. Laughing. Without a care in the world. Because right no
w I don’t.
How I’ve missed this little cove carved out in the north end of Mayhem, recessed from the road and hidden behind a barrier of trees.
When I drop my skirt and press my palms to the jagged gray stone, emotions I thought long dead flare to life. Anguish is a weapon that shoots up my veins to spear my heart, an echo of the last time I was here, bleeding and raw. Hopeless, and my soul undone. I’d been lonely. So lost and lonely. No family, just my father, who’d beat me because… There hadn’t been a reason for his anger. I was home enjoying the precious quiet. It was such a lovely Saturday afternoon until Billy Ellis came stumbling in the house drunk.
And I ran. Ran to Apple Grove, where I kicked off my shoes and pressed my hands to this rock and whispered a promise into the April breeze.
Soon you’ll be free.
I murdered my father less than a month later.
I’ve yet to keep my promise to that torn-up teenager. But I will, because being back here, where my pain began, makes it seem possible to put my past to rest.
I shove away from the mountain and walk through the creek, the water splashing up my legs. A baptism of liberty as I enjoy this genuine moment of tranquility for the first time since David found me in the gutter. No cameras are watching and no guards with their guns. No dogs stalking around me. No locks or gates. Only grass, and sun, and mud, and the rolling creek, and beauty. Everywhere I look, the majesty of nature.
A step back, and I crane my neck to gape in wonder at the mountain. The faint rev of ATV engines tells me somewhere on its peak are people riding in the woods between Mayhem and Falls Creek. I remember wanting to with Wraith and his friends when they rode through those trees on their quads as kids. Now’s my chance to do all the things I wished I’d done.
If I were staying.
Keyword. If.
It hurt so badly to stay away. Eventually, the pain dulled to a chronic background ache that stayed with me, always. But I’ll have to leave again because it’ll kill me to stay and watch Wraith settle into a life that won’t include me.
It’ll hurt less for me to build my own life elsewhere. At least that’s what I keep telling myself because it’s the lesser of two evils.
Or a coward’s decision.
But I’m not worrying about that today.
A peek farther out shows clouds in the distance. This wouldn’t be the first time I took a walk in the rain. I step out of the water and grab my shoes, and as I stroll through the grass, my feet get wonderfully filthy. With my hair windblown, my calves dirty, and the hem of my dress wet, I imagine I resemble a grubby elf.
Once I’m on tar, I slap as much debris from my bare soles as possible before slipping on my socks and shoes—because yes, I do wear socks and sneakers with a dress.
Comfort over style.
No wonder Ava, who showed up at Wraith’s house in denim and leather, was horrified when she got a look at me.
The walk along Fair Avenue brings more toxic memories, but I shove them to the back of my mind. When the road runs into Main Street, I hit the red-light district. I keep my head down and my feet moving, and because this is Mayhem, there’s Unholy everywhere. They’re not patched as with motorcycle clubs, but they have a look.
There’s no mistaking an Unholy from the average man. It could be the dead of winter with their distinguishable tattoos covered by clothing, and they’d still stand out in a crowd. They’re larger than life and mean as hell. They have to be to survive their violent world.
I get plenty of side-eye and a few off-color comments from non-locals as I stride by the brothels, strip clubs, and bars. No one, though, dares to get too pushy because this is Mayhem, and here a person picks their pleasure. Harassment isn’t tolerated. Ever.
Mayhem’s success relies on the Unholy’s control over the town. They lead by example. Yes, they drink and get rowdy, but only in the privacy Sanctum, or Devil’s Den when it’s closed to the public. God help an outsider who thinks they can come here and act the fool. They’re handled swiftly and violently. It’s why I’m safer walking alone through the red-light district than if I were surrounded by the very best of David’s guards.
If the government stopped funneling money directly to major cities, outlying towns like Mayhem wouldn’t need to rely on gangs to thrive. But with tax dollars poached, hardworking citizens were left with no other choice but to put their lives in the hands of criminal organizations. It’s a shame, really, since the war was supposedly fought to improve America. Instead, it made life worse on an unfathomable scale. But a balance was struck, with enterprises such as the Unholy fighting two fronts—undisciplined gangs like the Berserkers and the government’s overreach, both a threat to Mayhem’s survival.
Once I’m out of the red-light district, the town takes on a cozier mood. I pass the upgraded square and stop for a moment to rest in the new gazebo. Well, new to me. I don’t know when it was added, although it doesn’t look as if it’s seen many harsh Pennsylvania winters. I linger longer than I intend, but with the rain coming, I’m back on Main Street, walking past Black Bean Coffee Shop on the corner of Fifth Avenue. A souped-up silver Ford F-150 roars to a stop at the curb. System of A Down’s “ATWA” is blasting as the tinted window slides down to reveal Malice with his flop of dark brown hair. I’m not surprised to see he’s scowling.
He lowers the radio. “Why are you alone?”
Because I feel like it.
“Hello to you, too, Malice.”
His nostrils flare, and his expression turns from a frown to a full-on snarl beneath his goatee. “I have to repeat myself?”
I squint up at the cloudy sky then back at him. “I’m walking home. Last I checked, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do.”
“Get in,” he growls.
“I’d rather not.”
He clenches his jaw. “Jamie, get in the goddamn truck.”
Fear has me darting a panicked glance up and down Main Street. “Is David coming? Are we in danger?”
“No,” he grinds out.
Thank God.
I slap a hand to my heart. “Malice, you scared the life out of me. Thank you for offering to drive me home, but I’m going to walk.”
We both know he issued an outright demand.
I continue on my way, which happens to be in the opposite direction from the one his truck is pointed. The insane man throws his Ford in reverse and rips it backward. I swear to God, all of Main Street must hear the rev of his engine.
“Are you deliberately fucking with me?”
I stop and let out a dramatic sigh because he’s hilariously frustrated. I saunter over to the window and lean in so anyone passing isn’t privy to our conversation.
“No, Malice, I’m not fucking with you, deliberately or otherwise. You need to understand that Wraith wasn’t David’s only prisoner. My husband may not have caged or tortured me, but I lived under constant surveillance. Fear kept me compliant. But I’m free now. So, no, I’m not getting in your truck. I’m going to walk to Wraith’s house because I can. Because for the first time in two years, I’m safe. And I promise you that if it rains, I’ll be fine. It’s only water. I won’t melt.”
Do I see a smile tugging at his lips? Can’t be. No, wait, I think it is. And his face didn’t shatter. It’s an honest to God miracle. “You’re one hell of a brazen bitch.”
I cock a brow at him. “I thought we’ve established this already.”
His smile stretches wider. “Yeah, we have.”
Malice closes the window. Five Finger Death Punch blasts from the radio as he speeds off down Main Street.
I’m not sure, but I think we just became friends.
And drenched isn’t even the word by the time I get to Wraith’s house. The sky opens, and the rains come at about the same time I reach Willow Avenue. And I still have a lot more walking ahead of me.
Yep, I get soaked—and it’s fantastic.
Malice, the sarcastic sonofabitch, drives by again. This time, instead of stopping, he flip
s me the bird. I shoot him one right back.
I pass Wraith’s Raptor and Jester’s yellow Wrangler as I hurry up to the house. The door swings open, and there’s Jester laughing at my bedraggled appearance.
“Ava said you insisted on walking, but damn, girl.”
I shrug. “It’s just rain.”
He swipes my sopping hair off my face. “You look like a drowned mouse.”
“Gee, thanks, Jester.” I stride past him and step inside.
“Maybe if you wore less brown, you wouldn’t resemble a wet rodent.”
I throw up my hands in defeat. “I’m done.”
I’m also freezing, even with the heat on. Here in the mountains, it gets cold early in the season, and the blast of warm air is incredible after getting pelted by the rain.
One side of Jester’s mouth goes up in a devilish grin, and a mischievous spark lights his amber eyes. “You need help peeling off those clothes, sweetheart?”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Hell yeah, you are.” He slides his palms down my arms. Gooseflesh rises in the wake of his touch. “Shame, because I’m an expert at helping ladies out of their unmentionables.” His gaze moves to my breasts. Then lower still, to the juncture of my legs, where it lingers. “I’d offer to dry you off, too, but I’m better at keeping you wet.”
“Wow. Okay. Cheesy. Seriously.”
“Cheese for a little mouse.”
I slap my palms on his chest and shove him out of my path. “Go away, Jester.”
But I’m laughing. Hard. And so is he. Confusing. I’m supposed to be a cold bitch. Defensive. I shouldn’t be standing in Wraith’s living room joking around with a sarcastic, womanizing killer. But here I am, because life’s strange and this is Mayhem and normal rules don’t apply.
“Wait.” He captures my arm as I walk by him. “I gotta warn you.”
My brows slam together. “About?”
“Wraith’s trashed.”
