CHAPTER 18
The Pawn
“Police are still adamantly searching for the individuals responsible for the safe return of twelve missing women, and an end to what they have referred to as a ‘ring of pure evil’. Parents of two of the underage girls, whose names won’t be disclosed, tearfully pleaded for their ‘heroes’ to come forward.
Authorities say that an explosion north of Castine may be linked to the miraculous rescue, but the investigation is still ongoing. ”
Bridget snored against my chest, curled against me on the couch, and I muted the television.
My arms tightened around her and her damp hair smelled less like smoke, and more like rosemary and sage.
I’m just happy I get to smell it from her actual presence and not from sniffing a bottle, wondering if I’d ever see her alive again.
Mid-day sunlight casted her in a glow that hides every bit of the psycho I know is beneath the surface…
right now, she just looks like something that came crashing down from the top—right into my fucked-up life.
I pressed my lips to the top of her head, smoothing back her hair, and tried to convince myself that just hours ago…
we’d been vicious killers. Weeks ago, we’d been the likes of an old married couple, arguing about chores and eating ice cream out of a tub.
Years ago, we’d been gangsters, making dirty moves and fucking behind curtains.
And now, we’re also vigilantes that saved the lives of twelve innocent girls.
They think we’re heroes…and they’re wrong.
At the end of the day, we’re just a bunch of misfits in the mortuary business… kinda.
Where the hell do we go from here?
What do we do?
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I carefully slid it out, trying not to wake her.
“Dan the man…how goes it?” I whispered.
“Am I interrupting make-up sex?”
I smirked. “Negative. Not until she’s comfortable. She’s drooling on my favorite shirt.”
“Right. I’ll keep it quick, but I wanted to update you. With the hard drive, and everything you made out with from the pleasure house, added to what we figured out together…Jekhov Romanov and everybody he’s associated with have been seized in Russia.”
“Fuckin’ right,” I said, squeezing Bridget a little tighter.
“We’ve got enough to put them away for a long time, as well as the rest of the McKinley family for their involvement. Everybody goes to prison. I wanna be the first one to tell you this, Declan…your country thanks you. All of you.”
“Only half,” I smiled. “But I appreciate that. I guess we can’t really inhale Emerald Lotus as friends anymore, yeah?”
“Duty says no…but you’ll always be a friend to me, man. Not for what we accomplished together, but for the fluffy fucker on the inside that treated me like a human when anyone else would have let me eat out of a dumpster.”
Damn this guy and all his manhood.
I tightened my mouth.
“Call me if you’re ever in Maine. I know some friendly strippers.”
“Ha…I must have done my job well. I get more ass than a toilet seat, friend.” We both chuckled and Bridget stirred a little. “Take care of yourself.”
“Same. At ease, soldier.”
Call ended.
Bridget rubbed her eye and adjusted herself.
“Hold up,” she yawned. “That’s not Dumpster Dan…”
I snorted, pulling her closer and she looked up at me in bleary confusion. “The very fuckin’ same.”
“Nuh-uh! The drugged out, sketchy guy that wore Mrs. Bronson’s pink house slippers?”
“Yep. He was undercover.”
Her mouth hung open and I traced her bottom lip with my finger, taking her in like I haven’t been doing it for hours. “Okay, that guy needs medals. Cookies. A quiche. Emmy award.”
“Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
I didn’t even really mean to say it. I don’t really know why I almost felt apologetic.
Probably because we’ve danced too long around what we are to each other, and we might be past that point, but it’s still as foreign as the men we killed last night.
We stared for a bit too long, and she leaned in to kiss me.
I got lost in it. I didn’t mean to do that either, but I know without a fucking doubt that this is what I want.
Forever if she’ll let me. Her legs tangled with mine and her fists tugged at my t-shirt…
but she broke away and buried herself into my chest again, leaving me breathing like I just ran two miles.
It’s clear to me now.
She was raped. Or at the very least, forced to do things against her will.
It’s an unspoken clarification that I have absolutely no business questioning right now.
So, what do you do to give them comfort, or lead their minds to something else?
I clutched her against me and glanced up at the T.V.
to see a commercial for a breakfast joint.
Slow pour, food porn of syrup on a Belgian waffle.
Hot coffee. Runny eggs. Leave it to me and my fucking relentless stomach to come to the conclusion that high-calorie food is always the answer.
“All you can eat pancakes and scrambled eggs with ketchup?” I asked, resting my chin on top of her head. It sprung up real quick-like.
“Oh, my God…yes.”
There’s something therapeutic about dishes clanking and utensils scraping across plates while you’re sitting in a booth, watching steam billow up from a mug of hot coffee. It satisfies the soul. Even a deeply corrupted one like mine.
We all know by now that I’m a wizard.
But it doesn’t take one to know that they were starving her, even if I heard that wanker tell her that she’d have to fuck if she wanted dinner.
The fact that the girls in that hell house were probably denied it for much longer than Bridget…
makes me want to have a chance to kill them all over again.
She’s eating like it’s been days. I averted my eyes, lest I lose my unholy shit and go on an Irish rampage.
I need a diversion.
“Did you know…waffles used to be simple wafers for religious rites back in medieval times?” I asked.
She looked up from her trough and lowered her brows while she chewed.
“It wasn’t even called a waffle back then.
That was a Dutch term that started stickin’, and the French even made their batter with wine.
We didn’t even know about one of the most divine breakfast staples in the world until it was brought to the Americas in the 1600’s.
Crazy, right? I wonder if they ever thought it would evolve like this, hundreds of years later. ”
Bridget tried to hold in her laugh. “You’re such a nerd.”
I pushed my glasses up with a middle finger.
“Just think…all these years…and the poor waffle gets completely downgraded by emo kids that sanctified this place as their domain to paint their nails black, drink coffee and talk about pain.”
Egg flew out of her mouth when she burst out laughing and it landed on one of my lenses. “Sev would gladly chip that black polish on your face if she heard you say that shit, Declan.”
I smiled while I cleaned off my glasses. “I bet she wrote some mean poetry in her teenage years.”
“Stopppp,” she laughed, covering her mouth in shame. “You’re horrible.”
“Yeah, well…doesn’t make me love her any less. She’s texted me about eighty times this morning. She’s about to die to see you.”
Bridge chewed slower. “Where are they?”
“Hospital. With Miss Ruth.”
“Oh, my God…how is she? Is she okay?”
I nodded and took a generous sip from my mug. “She’s great. Not even in the intensive care unit anymore. I’m sure she’d like to see you too.”
Things got quiet and she stopped eating altogether, lowering her hands into her lap. “I dunno if that’s a good idea. I’m the reason she’s in there. I’m the reason Leviticus is in shambles.”
“You’re also the reason she’s alive, along with a dozen young girls and none of them have to look over their shoulder for danger anymore.
Ruth included. Nobody blames you, Bridge.
Bad people do bad shit. It could have happened to anyone for any reason.
You were just a name on a long list, love.
They know that. And the Grey’s would never hold that against you. ”
She stared down at her plate for a long moment, and then looked up, offering me a tight smile. “Let’s go.”
The hospital is quiet today. At least this area, anyway.
I haven’t been since they’d moved Miss Ruth.
Bridget clutched her arms, gripping the life out of her favorite red sweater while I asked the nurse which room to go in.
The door was closed and I gave it a couple knuckles before glancing down to see my lassie ready to retch scrambled eggs.
“Do you trust me?” I whispered, earning her attention.
She wants to say no. I can see it. But she gnawed her lip and nodded.
There were about two milliseconds between Seven opening that door, and the ‘oof’ that left Bridget’s lungs when she tackled her, wrapping her arms as tight as they’d go.
This is what she needs. This is what heals. Us.
“Bridget?”
We all slowly turned our heads towards Ruth, who pushed her tray of food away and stared earnestly past me to see her. Sev stepped out of the way.
“I—I’m…”
“Come here, sweetheart…”
Ruth reached her arms out and Bridget’s eyes filled while Sev softly shut them inside and tugged my arm to give them time alone. We walked back down the hallway, and she kept her voice low, peeking around to make sure we didn’t have an audience.
“Has she told you anything?”
I stared at my feet and shook my head. “Not a word. She says it other ways, though. They did somethin’ to her.”
“The girls aren’t talking either. It’s like some unspoken pact between all of ‘em to keep us safe. There must have been a dozen cops up here last night, asking them who brought them here and how they got out.”
“How’d you dodge that?” I asked, genuinely curious.