Chapter 15 #2
Eventually, he pulls free, making me hiss. I don’t say anything out loud, but I already miss the connection. He turns me around so he can look at me. His eyes lock on mine, making it impossible to look away. He swallows, and I see the question on his lips before it’s even formed.
“I don’t regret it. I don’t regret you. I regret not bringing a change of clothes, though.”
He grins at that. “Might find Legs left something upstairs. If not, I can have a prospect grab something for you.”
I slap his chest. “We’re not sending a prospect to pick up I’ve just had sex clothes. If Legs left something, great. If not, I’ll have to make do until we get home. It’s not like anyone is going to see me, anyway.”
He pulls his jeans up and slips the condom off before tucking his cock away.
The condom gets thrown in the trash, which I make a mental note to empty before we leave.
Spotting a box of tissues on one of the bookcases, I shuffle over to them and use them to pat myself dry before throwing them in the trash too.
I move to grab my shorts and underwear, but then Kruger is there on his knees in front of me, holding them out so I can step in.
“I swear there is something even sexier about you helping me dress instead of undressing,” I whisper, holding his shoulders for balance.
“It’s because I gain nothing from it. It’s all about you. Most men are concerned with what they find once they rip the underwear away, but I already knew I’d find perfection.”
“I’m far from perfect, Kruger.”
“Maybe, but you’re perfect for me.”
I swallow as he stands up, pulling the material up my legs and over my ass before fastening my button.
He looks around for my sandals, which I must have lost somewhere along the way, and helps me slip them back on. Staring at my top, he grins unrepentantly at the torn buttons that make the V of my shirt more pronounced and show a large expanse of the pink bra I’m wearing underneath.
“Standing beside me, people might think we got attacked by the same bear.”
I roll my eyes at him before lifting onto my tiptoes and giving him a soft kiss filled with gratitude.
I wait for the panic to invade, but it doesn’t come.
I know things aren’t magically fixed between us, but for now, at least I’m not spinning aimlessly with no idea what direction I should head in.
Even if I’m heading toward my downfall, there’s comfort in knowing the way.
His cell phone rings, pulling him out of the moment. He pulls it out and sees it’s Nathan.
“Answer it. I’m going to freshen up and look for a spare top. Do you have the key to the apartment?”
“No, but it wasn’t locked last time I was here. Don’t worry, nobody can access it without keys to the building, and only you and Midas have those.”
I nod, though I’m pretty sure I’m going to be asking Midas for the key. Or maybe he can give it to Legs so she can come and go as she pleases.
I head upstairs as he takes the call, marveling that I forgot all about this apartment. I could have stayed here instead of the motel, but then they’d have probably found me sooner.
I turn the knob when I get up there, and sure enough, it’s open.
I close it behind me to give Kruger some privacy and take in the space.
I’ve never been here before, but it appears to have been recently renovated.
I chuckle when I spot some discarded soda cans and water bottles on the table, along with a knife and a half-empty jar of peanut butter.
That has to be Legs. Midas is somewhat of a neat freak, but as Legs’s pregnancy has progressed, she’s become the snack queen, not caring what time of day or night it is. And as she’s not a neat freak, you might not see her snacking, but there’ll be signs.
I head to the room I assume is the bedroom and push the door open, pausing when I see the blankets askew. There’s a bunch of stuff on the bedside dresser, too, but as it’s on the far side of the bed, I can’t make out what it is.
I get a weird feeling and the hairs on my arms stand on end. I take a step closer and swallow when I notice what looks like blood on the bedcovers. I reach for my phone, then curse when I remember that Kruger has it.
“Fuck this.” I move to the closet to see if there is a shirt in there before coming face-to-face with a handgun.
I freeze. Hell, I don’t think I even breathe as a man steps out of the closet, the gun aimed at me, as he covers his lips with his finger in a shhh gesture. I take a step back, and when I do, I suck in a breath as I take him in.
I don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean much. I can see that he’s hurt, though. His eye is swollen, the white parts are completely bloodshot, and his whole jaw is covered in a fading yellow-green bruise.
I take in his tattered clothes. His arms are thin and bruised, and his T-shirt is torn and bloody in places. The gun shakes from him holding his arm straight out, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s busted his ribs, too.
It isn’t until I concentrate on his face again that I realize he’s not a man at all, but a boy. At most, I’d put him at seventeen, but something tells me he might be younger than that.
“My name is Delphi. I’m sort of owner of this place now.
I say sort of because I’m still not sure what I want to do after my last place got burned to the ground and I almost died.
And then I almost died again, but that time it was my fault.
I mean, what kind of sane person steals a grenade off a biker at gunpoint?
Yeah, I said gunpoint, but this isn’t my first rodeo.
Last time, I was on the other side of the gun.
Not that I liked that much better because I didn’t actually want to hurt anyone. I was just scared, you know?”
He swallows, his arm shaking a little more, and I feel like, yeah, he does know.
“You’re the grenade lady?”
“Is that what people are calling me? They really couldn’t think of anything better?” I blow a stray strand of hair from my face. “It kind of feels like they’re not even trying with that. Like when you buy a baby name book only to name your kid Aaron, you know?”
He looks at me like I’m insane. At this point, I think he might be on to something.
“Sorry, I tend to babble when I’m nervous.”
He swallows, his face gaunt and his eyebrows furrowed. I tilt my head, getting something from him I’m more than familiar with—the scent of fear.
“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m asking you to anyway.
I don’t think you want to hurt me. I think you could if you had to,” I add when his hand tightens on the gun.
“But I don’t think that’s who you are. I know fear.
I’ve spent the last five years of my life wrapped up in it like it was a heavy coat I couldn’t unfasten and lay down. ”
I blow out a steadying breath and take a step closer.
I raise my arm slowly so he can see me, open the cuff on my wrist, and let it drop to the floor.
I turn my wrist around so he can see the scars there.
He blinks, and I watch him refocus. The second he understands what he’s seeing, his eyes shoot to mine.
“Like I said, I know fear. I also know what it’s like to be alone and to think the world would be better off without me in it. That maybe in death, I might find a moment of peace.”
The gun wavers before he lowers it a little.
“My man is downstairs,” I warn him, feeling weird calling Kruger that, but I wasn’t sure what else to go with.
“He’s fiercely protective of me. If he comes upstairs and sees this, he’ll kill you without a doubt.
If you shoot me and he hears the gun, he’ll kill you before you get the chance to make a run for it.
Now, I guess if you want to die, none of those things matter much to you.
As long as your soul can handle the stain of carrying someone else’s death. ”
“I don’t want to hurt you. I just don’t want you to send me back.”
“I won’t be sending you anywhere you don’t want to go, kid. Give me the gun and let me help you.”
“You’re really the grenade lady?”
“It’s how I got the pretty cast and the chunk missing out of my skull.”
His eyes slip closed, and I watch as he has a silent conversation with himself before he lowers his arm and holds the gun out for me. I walk forward slowly and take the gun from him, popping it open to remove the bullets, which is when I realize the chamber is empty.
He looks at me sheepishly. “I really didn’t want to hurt you. Not even by accident.”
“I knew you were a good kid just by looking at you. You have kind eyes. Sad, but kind.”
He looks like he’s two seconds away from crying, and I might just join him. Sometimes I hate this fucking world. I just want the earth to stop spinning so I can step off and take a break from all the shit.
“I’m going to get some stuff to get you cleaned up. I need you to trust me a little longer. Can you do that?”
He looks rattled, so I walk closer and give him something he might recoil from or might need more than he needs air.
I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight.
He freezes solid. In fact, I wonder if I’ve made a huge miscalculation for a minute when I feel the barely unleashed maelstrom of emotions beating at him for freedom. And then I feel him break.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, even though it has to hurt, and his whole body shakes.
He’s breaking my heart. I have to fight to hold back my own tears, especially when I realize he’s not making a sound.
There is something even more poignant about someone falling apart in silence, as if their pain needs to be hidden, like it’s something they should be ashamed of or punished for.
I need to find Kruger and explain what’s going on. He’s going to flip his lid. But he’s going to have a fight on his hands if he thinks he’s going to make me break my promise to this kid.