49. Ivy
FORTY-NINE
IVY
He couldn’t be fucking serious. “Why would you hunt with me?”
“I swore to give you my life, Ivy,” he pointed out, as if I should have seen it from a mile away. “You hunt, I hunt.”
Coyote was the most unassuming one of them all, but I knew there was a hidden cunning beneath his broody, silent demeanor. He wouldn’t lie to me, but he had ulterior motives in helping me ‘hunt,’ as he put it.
I needed to know what those motives were.
“Aren’t you going to tell the others?”
“No need.” He shuffled in place, clearly waiting for me to give him some direction.
I ground my teeth so hard they felt like they might break. “Go. Home. Coyote.”
His hand slammed against the tree I leaned against, caging me halfway in as he leaned in and sniffed my neck. “I’m staying.”
I ducked under his arm and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Let’s go.”
As soon as I had him following the trail, trusting me again, I took off into the dark, dodging and weaving until I lost him in the wooded area around the park.
It was too dark for him to find me on sight, and if I didn’t move, he’d miss me by a mile, even if he was listening for any sign of movement. As long as he didn’t by some act of God walk right into me, I was safely hidden. Eventually, he’d assume I ditched him, and leave.
And then I could continue my self-destructive path in peace.
I leaned against the tree and made myself as small as possible, breathing slowly and deeply so as to avoid giving myself away. Still, I flinched when he passed right beside me, inches away from my nose, his every muscle tensed as he stared off in the wrong direction and twitched in hunter mode. hello
Please keep going, please keep going, please keep ? —
Like lightning striking, his hand shot out and gripped me around the throat, pinning me in place. I had a two-second window that I could have run, and now, it was gone. And in its place was a strange, heady feeling as that hand tightened around my throat, dragging me against him with a snarl.
“My name is Santiago,” he snarled as his lips crashed down on mine, searching, demanding, greedy, and desperate for a taste, “and I refuse to let you go.”
Like a switch had been flipped, he took us to the ground, his hand behind my head to stabilize me and keep me from hitting the dirt completely. His other hand stroked down the side of my face, moving off my throat to caress me like?—
“You are mine, and I am yours, Ivy.”
Was he going to fuck me right here in this damned half-assed forest? On the ground? Like a goddamned animal?
His free hand grabbed my shirt and shoved it up, baring my stomach to his touch. “I need you,” he growled, his voice quiet but menacing, desperate, hungry, and raw. My bat lay in the dirt beside me, abandoned but not too far away. If I could just inch a little to the right, I could put my fingers around the handle and?—
I realized with a start that Coyote had stopped moving, his whole body stilled atop mine, his breathing even and unhurried.
Did he really just fall asleep on top of me?
His soft snores confirmed what I suspected.
The broken part of me slowly knitted herself back together, surprise shifting the desperate desire to get away into a need to take care of the man who’d been so exhausted looking for me that he’d collapsed when he finally found me.
I had no choice, really. I couldn’t leave him here alone. And I’d ditched Dingo’s bike by the Guild this morning, in a bunch of Lilly’s thorny rose bushes that were long past blooming this year. That meant I’d have to drag him or carry him, and I didn’t have anywhere to keep him safe in South End.
I had to take him back to the Guild .
The last place I wanted to go.
But I couldn’t leave him here to be victimized and die. The Southies would get him. That first one was an easy mark. The others might not be so slow.
“Okay, big guy, you fucking owe me,” I grunted, shifting his weight to my back to carry his muscled ass back to where he’d be safe. I somehow managed to kick the bat up into my other hand, and set off, hoping it was still early enough that I didn’t have to drop him anywhere and fight off a horde of unstable psychos, probably better armed than I was.
Saving his life was more important than the forfeiture of mine.
The guards spotted me as I slowly walked up the drive, but they didn’t bother to stop me. Lilly St. Clair met me at the front doors, though, flanked by none other than two of her Commandos. I recognized the friendlier one, Doc, who had patched up plenty of people since I started staying here, as well as the cunning, sharp-edged one on her other side, wearing that familiar, chilling half-Oni mask.
“You look rough,” Lilly pointed out, her eyes soft despite her words. “Need some help?”
“No,” I said quietly, realizing now that I’d come back, I planned to see this out to the end. I couldn’t just leave him there in the entryway and walk away. It was clear now that they’d never stop looking for me. No matter how far or fast I ran, they’d eventually find me.
It was just easier to give up the chase and let them win.
Or so I told myself.
“I can handle him just fine,” I said, smiling at her despite the soreness in my shoulder and legs. “After all,” I said, shifting his weight on my back, “I owe them my life. Maybe it’s time I show my gratitude. ”
“They were just doing their jobs,” Doc said quietly, his face a mask of indifference. “You don’t owe them anything.”
“The whole reason I’m still alive, still free, and not a slave of the sex trafficking rings, is because someone stepped up and helped my mother when she couldn’t protect me on her own.” I looked around at the whole room, taking another step inside as the chill night air cut through the leather jacket I still wore around my waist. “The Guild is what saved me, gave me another chance.” My eyes softened as I looked at Coyote’s sleeping face, draped over my shoulder like dead weight, defenseless in his slumber. “And there’s nothing for me to go back to. Everything I have is right here in these four walls.”
“Well, technically, two of them are out there on the streets looking for you. This one hasn’t slept in six straight days. He was supposed to be here, sleeping, but clearly he’s just as stubborn as you are.”
Lilly let me pass, watching as I climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator, one foot in front of the other, legs threatening to give out on me at any moment. I hoped she wouldn’t call them back right away, but knowing her, it wouldn’t be long before Jackal and Dingo bore down on us and started in on me for leaving.
“Come on, you stubborn fool,” I panted under my breath, realizing I bit off more than I could chew with the stubborn desire to carry him myself. “One more set of stairs, and I can dump you in your bed and take a shower.”
I reached the door with barely any energy to spare, finally feeling the effects of my lack of food and proper rest for a week. In such a short time on the streets, I’d turned into a shell of myself, desperate to feel nothing at all as I watched the light die out of the eyes of the men who’d quite possibly come damn close to the beginning of the end for me.
Finding the old Rolodex my father had stashed in the back of his garage wasn't easy. I always thought it was weird that he kept it there, considering there was one on his desk, too. But there it was, untouched, covered in dust in the back of a cabinet that I’d broken into after leaving my mother’s house for the last time.
I took it out and started working through the list like a woman on a mission.
I’d been almost out of names when Coyote found me.
He grunted as I slid him off my shoulders and onto the couch, collapsing as he went down, unable to stand even for myself for another second. My legs felt like jelly, weak and wobbly, unable to support my body weight.
Damn.
And I thought I’d be able to shower off the dingy stains of the streets before someone found me here.
I crawled to the nearest bathroom, sighing in relief when I realized it was Jackal’s. I could barely lift myself into the tub as I turned on the water in the dark, flinging my clothes onto the floor as the steam revived me.
That water got cold long before I did. And still I didn’t move, determined to get all I could out of this last moment alone.
I heard the front door open and shut, frantic voices echoing through the front room as they discovered Coyote on the couch.
“Where is she? St. Clair said she brought him back.”
“Well, if he’s here, she’s gotta be, right?”
“What if she left again? Fuck, what if we just missed her, and?—”
“I didn’t leave,” I yelled weakly from the dark bathroom, shielding my eyes as the sound of footsteps bounded in my direction. Sure enough, they turned the lights on, blinding me despite my preparedness. “Fuck, turn that out, it’s too bright.”
Jackal complied, leaving the one in his bedroom on behind him. He fell to his knees at the lip of the bathtub, gripping the edge as he stared at me like I might disappear when he blinked.
“Are you real?” he asked quietly, a single finger reaching out to poke me in the arm .
“Ow, yes, I’m real, you idiot,” I snapped, the touch too much and not enough all at once. “Stop poking me, I’m not the Pillsbury Dough Boy, for fuck’s sake.”
“Where did you go?” Dingo asked, frowning when I shook my head to refuse him. “No, don’t do that. Tell us why you left without even saying goodbye.”
“I needed to face some demons on my own, okay?” My eyes drifted to the water I sat in, suddenly self-conscious of how I looked. “They were stronger than I expected.”
“Did you beat them, or did they beat you?”
I shrugged. “Let’s call it a draw.”
“Some demons never leave you, ya know,” Jackal whispered suddenly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “If you pull that shit again, I’ll haunt you worse than any demon you’ve ever known.”
I chuckled as Dingo shook his head behind Jackal, smiling despite himself. “I’m glad you’re back, brat,” he said quietly, a sincere gratitude in his eyes as he turned and walked away. “Welcome back,” he shot over a shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving me alone with Jackal.
A place that immediately felt more charged and tense than it had been with a witness in the room.
His eyes burned with something I couldn’t understand, but thankfully, he put it in words, saying what he needed to with the usual Jackal dramatics.
“You hurt us all,” he said sullenly, pouting like a child. “But you hurt Coyote the most. He hasn’t slept in days. Been combing the streets looking for you.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that. He was right, really. There was no telling how hard Coyote had pushed himself to find me. It had to be an insane level.
“You know, he was working on some bullshit poem while you were gone. Reciting the fucking thing every night in his room, in the living room, wherever he could pace.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Took me three days to figure out he was writing the damn thing.
I gasped in shock. “He wrote me a poem?”
“A fucking ballad. A confession. Something big, s’all I know. He was torn up. Couldn’t sleep, would barely stop long enough to eat.”
“He passed out when he found me in the park.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t fall over dead.”
That line delivered the intended dose of guilt. “That’s unfair, Jackal.”
“Is it?” He cocked a brow and stared pointedly at my hands, clutched in my lap. “Or is it just a truth you don’t wanna hear?”
“I didn’t want to leave,” I said, feeling the need to defend myself even though I knew I was in the wrong. “I didn’t know what to do. And I needed answers.”
“I sure hope you found them,” he muttered, rising from his kneeling place by the tub. “Listen, for what it’s worth, I don’t hate you.” His eyes were glued to the floor as he whispered the words. “But I don’t love people like normal people do. So if you’re expecting some flowery bullshit and a happy ever after, that’s not us. But if you, well, if you’re okay with just being a part of this, we’d like you to—I’d like you to stay.”
This was the closest Jackal would ever come to saying he cared about me. I could see it in his actions, though, so maybe I didn’t need it in words. I didn’t need some fancy, flowery promise from a man who’d spent more time hating me than caring about me. But I was far from someone who had any business claiming she knew all about love. All I thought I knew had been a backward, convoluted lie.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, realizing our broken pieces lined up perfectly in this water-logged, old, damaged puzzle. “The answers aren’t important anymore.”
“Good,” he said, closing the bathroom door behind him.
Good.