4. Bay
FOUR
bay
For once, I’m happy to be alone, because I can’t stop tears from forming and the broken sobs that follow.
My old life is dead.
And I have to bury half of it six feet deep with the idea—no, the ugly reality—that I will never see Dad’s smile again. I will never hear his voice, or sit out in the garage with him and watch him work on the Nova. We’ll never have late-night pizza runs while he tells me all his secrets about racing. And all the stories of trouble and close calls he had when he was younger.
I always aspired to be that man. His kindness, determination, and the love he showed me and my sisters was unprecedented. He shaped my life and who I am today.
And I’d never be able to repay him for that.
Ever.
The only thing I can do is make sure that Ellie and Mae get back home where they belong. To say goodbye and to ensure they live happy and full lives.
However, I can’t bring myself to go out and look for them. I’m crippled by grief, in the boxcar of the train I’ve taken up, and I’m so downcast with hopelessness that I’m no good to anyone.
My father was the strongest man I know.
He’d be out there right now searching for them, but I don’t know where to start. Dad would know how to forge through and take care of business.
And as much as I would love to say I received his strength tenfold, I’m a balled-up mess on this metal floor, wrapped in a blanket and wanting this to all be over.
I fucked up.
I know I did something wrong.
Maybe Dad knew all the shit that was taking place, had someone from the Nameless reporting back to him, and it caused him to stroke out again. I never told him I knew about Emilio. I wonder if he knew I was aware, and it killed him.
I’m still awaiting word that Levi has been released from prison. Each second and minute that passes by feels like a century, and it’s like another torture tactic from Emilio himself. Everything is on hold with Dad because…I just can’t bury him alone.
I can’t.
Then I have to tell Mae and Ellie they’re stuck with me, and I lied when I told them Dad was coming home.
And with each passing millisecond, my mind gets more hasty and reckless with each idea that passes through.
BAY: We need to break Levi out of jail.
HOT ROD: No.
JUICE: Yes.
HOT ROD: Juice, you stupid dumbfuck. We’ve talked about this.
JUICE: I’m sorry, moron. But did you really want us to wait on Emilio Wildes? That prick isn’t doing anything.
HOT ROD: You wanna be in a cell next to him?
JUICE: I didn’t plan on getting caught. Did you, Astor?
BAY: Not particularly.
HOT ROD: I said no.
JUICE: Um, time is of the essence here. Did you want to wait until he was half-rotting in there or…
HOT ROD: Our job doesn’t consist of that. You know what Wallace said.
BAY: I don’t. What did he say? To keep watch over me and make sure I didn’t do anything stupid?
JUICE: Where are you? I’m going to come pick you up.
HOT ROD: I will rip your tiny balls off, Juice, and turn you into the pussy that you already are.
HOT ROD: Sit still.
BAY: You’re gonna need to give us more than that.
HOT ROD: And shut up.
Smartass.
JUICE: I’ll need to make sure I eat before we go, Astor. Cheeseburgers?
HOT ROD: Alright, you’re dead.
BAY: Sounds good. I’ll meet you at the corner of Fifth and Oceanview.
HOT ROD: What the hell did I just say?
JUICE: Did Rod leave the chat? He hasn’t responded.
HOT ROD: I know where you are, motherfucker.
JUICE: I’ll be there, Astor. Give me thirty.
HOT ROD: You leave that bar, Juice. You’re gonna wish I never found you.
JUICE: I moved to Emersyn’s house. Keep up, old man.
BAY: Emersyn Carter?
JUICE: The very one.
BAY: Ah, Juice. Don’t hurt that girl. She’s actually nice.
JUICE: Who said I was being mean to her? I was just about to be VERY nice.
BAY: And now, you’re bailing.
JUICE: Duty calls.
JUICE: However, if you wanted me to lick her pussy before I leave, I’ll have no complaints about that.
JUICE: She can thank you later.
BAY: If you make it quick. I’ll see you in thirty.
HOT ROD: Juice won’t be able to make it.
HOT ROD: His tires are slashed.
JUICE: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY CAR?!
HOT ROD: Oops.
Oh shit.
I’m about to tell Juice I’ll come pick him up myself, when Hot Rod’s name shows up big and bold on my screen.
Double shit.
The thought of letting him go to voicemail immediately crosses my mind, but he knows I’m by my phone. No need to tack on extra drama to the mix while he’s already fucked up Juice’s poor ride.
“That was mean,” I greet when I hit the green button to answer his call. “He’s going to kill you for that.”
“There’s a dude walking up to the train car you’re in right now. Tall, lean, all-black tattoos. Who is he?”
My eyebrows knit because that doesn’t describe anyone I know off the top of my head, and how the hell does he know where I am?
Levi.
The Nameless.
“Where are you?” I press, clutching my blanket closer to my body.
“You got three seconds to answer me,” Hot Rod calmly replies. “Or he’s catching a bullet to the back of the head.”
Tall.
Lean.
All-black tattoos.
“Dark hair?” I whisper, swallowing the forming lump in my throat.
“Yeah.”
Ozzy.
I reach for my gun and drag it underneath the covers draped over me. “If you want a gunshot, come in.”
“Who is he?”
“My husband.”
“ What ?”
“Hold,” I mutter. “Don’t do anything.”
“Who the fuck is this guy, Astor?” Hot Rod demands, and he’s really been hanging out with Levi for too long.
He’s starting to sound like him.
“I’ll explain in a minute. Let me see what he wants.”
“Incoming.”
And right when my friend says the word, a hard knock sounds off the sliding metal door of the compartment, and it rattles my bones. The place is so empty the sound ricochets everywhere, and a shiver jolts through my body.
“Keep me on the phone,” Hot Rod orders. “You say Nissan, and I’m coming in.”
Juice’s car.
Asshole.
The door begins to skid open, and I drop the phone in my lap. My knees are almost pulled into my chest to hide my cell, but it still doesn’t give me much comfort.
One bullet and it’s done.
Aiming the barrel of my weapon into the direction of my latest newcomer, I don’t utter a single fucking word. The eeriness I’m given causes the hairs on my arms to stand on end, and my first thought goes to Reeve.
How he was here once before.
The look on his face.
The despair and betrayal in those hazel eyes.
My head will not allow me to forget the way he begged me not to marry someone else. That he’d take care of everything.
And maybe he would’ve been able to do all that.
But the chances were risky, and I needed a guarantee to make sure all my terms were met. Yet those thoughts of him are quickly demolished when I hear the door opening.
With my index finger over the trigger, I’m more than ready to yank on it with tears burning the backs of my eyes.
In fact, I’m praying I can fire this weapon just to release some pent-up anger and despair. I can’t take another moment by myself and mulling over everything I’ve done wrong. How I’m such a fuckup. That since Dad’s stroke, I haven’t been able to manage anything right.
Maybe I never have.
And now, Mae and Ellie are left with me.
A body steps out from behind the door—only the black edges of a human form visible—and my nostrils flare.
Outside stands my husband.
I’m starting to hate that word in its entirety.
I’m met with dark eyes and the looming question of what the hell he’s doing here. If he thought we were about to escape for our honeymoon, I have a piece of lead that would inform him of my rejection of the idea.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I grind out, watching how ominously calm he is.
And how did you find me?
We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. It gives me more time to evaluate the outside of him as a human being.
Or what kind of monster I’m dealing with.
His dark hair is longer along the front and almost drapes over one eye. His jaw is sharp and sculpted before the black ink covering his neck hides the rest. His nose is perfectly straight and almost regal.
A Wildes, through and through.
However, Torin isn’t blood-related to Emilio. And if this is his cousin, I’m not sure if he’s on Torin’s side or Emilio’s.
Each one of us doesn’t give anything away because we don’t trust each other as we continue to silently challenge the opposing side to avert their gaze.
I’m not sure what it is about this dude, but the quiet ones are always the most dangerous, and it creeps me out. At least with Torin, he’s so petty that he’ll outline all his plans in one go.
“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what the fuck you want before I invite some people in here,” I warn, setting the idea in motion that I’m not alone.
Apparently, I’m not, thanks to Hot Rod and his sneaky and overbearing ways.
Definitely been hanging out with Levi for too long.
“Your sisters will be at the house tomorrow.”
His muttered words don’t register at first. I’m too busy focusing on not pulling away at his blistering stare and how comfortable he appears doing it while I’m practically crawling out of my skin.
I want to ask him to say it again, but I can’t do anything but clutch the handle of my weapon harder because…is the so-called plan working?
Did Emilio get this one right?
His dark demeanor stays outside my little space, and I open my mouth before I decide against it.
“Both Ellie and Mae?”
He bobs his head and directs his heavy attention around the vacant space around me. All that’s in here is me, and a duffle bag of things I carried in here.
Nothing more.
I notice his grip on the side of the door tightening, displaying that he either doesn’t want to be here or is present to play nice under Emilio’s order.
Either way, I don’t give a shit.
Though, I’m not sure why Emilio would have me marry someone that’s not his son. It could be because of what Torin has done, and maybe my sperm donor is attempting to keep me from that fate.
Or it could be because he has other plans.
“Where are they?” I barely hear my own words over my storming heartbeat. “Are they okay?”
He gives me another curt nod.
“Tomorrow?”
Another bow of his head as he breathes in deep, his chest filling with air as he slowly releases it through his nose. He does it again, and I can’t pull my attention away.
It’s almost as if…he’s in distress or something.
“You haven’t been to the house.” His sudden comment sounds slightly irritated, as if I insulted him by not moving half my shit into Emilio’s house or something.
“Um, fuck no,” I profess with a mini scoff. “I’m not moving my sisters into that hellhole and under that piece of shit.”
He slices those pitless pools of eyes back to me, and it almost takes my breath away.
Something about him…it’s fucked up. And I’m waiting for another ball to drop, honestly. I can do nothing but bide my time and hold back before he or Emilio drop another nuclear bomb on me.
And I don’t like not being ready.
I also hate change.
Ozzy doesn’t press me to continue, he just reaches behind him, and all the blood from my body feels as though it drains from it.
I expect a gun.
For him to just blow me away.
However, a piece of paper is tossed in my direction instead, not making it but halfway to me.
Ozzy hops up along the edge of the container and looms closer. The tip of one of his black Chucks stepping onto the corner of it before he pushes it closer to me.
Then he backs off.
When I don’t move at first, Ozzy continues to gape at me, patiently waiting for me to do what he silently asks or wishes.
“I don’t take gifts from strangers.”
“Take it,” he orders and, oh damn, he does have some of that Wildes blood in him after all.
“How about you take it and tell me what it is?” I shoot back.
He doesn’t.
No, a Wildes man isn’t going to take orders from some piddly little girl like me.
“I can do this all night,” I hedge when he doesn’t move. “It’ll be a rude awakening for what you signed up for.”
His unyielding stare doesn’t waver off me when he replies, “I already know what I signed up for.”
Okay.
I push my lips out, contemplating what Emilio may have already said about me.
Not that it matters.
I didn’t ask for this, and I didn’t request for this weirdo to show up either.
“Then it’s going to be a long night,” I deadpan, kicking out one foot and leaning more of my weight against the hard wall of the train.
Ozzy slowly bends over, plucking the folded parchment from the ground before taking one step and dropping it in my lap.
Then he fucks off.
With my left hand and my right still on my gun, I begin opening it, and Ozzy’s eyes descend to my blanket.
He knows.
I’m impressed as fuck.
A faint smirk pulls at my lips as I steal my attention off him and down at the document that presents that it’s from the county.
On the first page, it has an address and my name.
“What is this?” Nothing. “I only speak English, dude. So, if you can’t open your mouth, get the fuck out.”
When I don’t receive an answer, I slice my focus back up to long strands of black hair covering half of his face. The hollows of his cheeks and cut jawline clean of facial hair. It’s those eyes that damn me to make another shitty comment.
Deep, deep blue.
“It’s a house.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask, lifting the paper in the air.
“It’s yours.”
His voice is an exposure of deep precariousness and stripped bare of emotion. Just like his expression. He shows none of his cards when he stares at me, watching my every move and reaction, which could make him the deadliest of my enemies or the best ally I’ve ever had.
“This…is our house?” It makes me sick to think about, and I won’t allow it. Thankfully, he promptly shakes his head, as if that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “Then?—”
A pair of keys jingle in the air next, and I quickly catch them, feeling the cold metal touch my palm as my face twists in confusion because Mr. Talkative over here isn’t just spitting it out.
“Color me confused, husband . What is this?”
“Yours.”
“ Mine ?” He gives me a curt nod, demonstrating he’s just a man of few words, and a conversation isn’t something we’re going to be having tonight. “Why?”
His body shifts, but it looks like it’s because he’s tense and needs to release some of the knots in his body.
He doesn’t like me.
And that’s okay. Maybe it’ll get him to stay the fuck away from me.
However, it doesn’t explain any of this.
At all.
“I need you to tell me what you’re doing,” I impart, because maybe he’s slow or deaf like Torin? “Why are you handing me over a so-called house?”
“You need it.”
Yeah, well…he’s not wrong there.
Glancing at all my stuff that’s thrown in every which way, I’m at a loss of what to do, now.
If Ellie and Mae are really getting out, they need a place.
A room.
A bed.
I need a fridge stocked with food. I need to go see Dad—I feel my excitement flee my body in that exact moment.
Another reality check.
Inhaling, I look back to Ozzy.
But he’s already jumping out of the train cart and disappearing into the pitch-black darkness of the night.