CHAPTER 5
There was no way I wouldn’t doubt if it would be appropriate for Maya to be in this environment, but my worries have been squashed. Everyone so far has been… oddly perfect. No one is bothered by Maya’s presence, even as I thought a kid might become annoying. She’s making sure to pull everyone up if they swear in front of her, which has made most of them laugh and comply with her demands. Some of the guys retired inside or walked farther away whenever it looked like a conversation was turning a bit too serious.
The whole evening is… strange.
Not bad. Definitely not bad.
It’s homey.
Such a contrast to what I thought this experience would be. Mamaw June is infectious in her attitude. These brutal men are menacing even when they smile, yet they’ll probably kneel at her feet. They might even be a little afraid of her.
Their whole dynamic is peculiar. I didn’t ask, but it looks like they’ve known each other for a long time. It sounds like Mamaw June helped raise at least one more of these guys besides her own son. And she’s so warm.
She’s the only thing that made me sad this evening. I saw it in Maya’s eyes too. Passing memories from our once happy life… the woman who gave us more love than we could ever ask for. Something about Vincent’s mother reminds us of ours.
Even that sadness brings a strange sense of comfort.
One thing has distracted me from it this evening—the icy stares of the blue-eyed man sitting across from me. Though, I think his stare only flickered into ice when mine landed on his.
I’m lounging in a comfy outdoor armchair, watching the sun bleed in dark shades of orange just above the tree line, and wonder if I’m getting too comfortable. Not in this chair, not with their support, but with them. With who they are. So far this evening I’ve heard things in passing—something about a fight, meeting a hotelier who has some interesting information for the guys, and there was something about money. But I must have heard that one wrong because the number mentioned didn’t sound real with all those zeros at the end.
“You need to put some meat on your bones, little lady. It will help with the chills.”
I shudder as Morrigan drops a soft throw on my lap. Some meat on my bones would be great indeed, but it hasn’t been in the cards for me. I did, however, notice a slight difference since staying at Katya’s. Folding my legs under me, I wrap the blanket around my shoulders. It smells divine, like pine needles and sugar.
“How are you doing?” she asks as she sits on her husband’s lap at the dining table to my left.
“We’re doing well, thanks to Katya. And all of you.” I haven’t been told who’s actually contributing to helping us, yet one can assume. “But my sister and I will have to move on soon; we can’t take advantage of your hospitality for so long.”
A brief, throaty sound pulls my attention to the armchair across from me. Finnigan has a bottle of Corona stuck to his lips, and his eyes fixed on me. Did he just mockingly clear his throat?
What is his problem?
I’ve been trying to ignore him all evening, but this time I hold his gaze, challenging him.
“Don’t worry,” I hear Maddox say, but don’t turn to him. “All in good time. There’s no reason to rush this. No one is kicking you out.”
Finnigan raises an eyebrow, and I narrow both of mine. I bet he wants to kick me out. I just can’t quite figure out why.
“You’re uncomfortable with us.”
I turn without sparing a breath, the gorgeous, blonde woman with mile-high legs pulling my attention to her. The others look like they want to argue with her for her daring, yet they bite their tongues. Finnigan rests the bottle on his knee and straightens.
What am I supposed to say? It wasn’t a question, and it’s not an untrue statement.
This evening has been peculiarly comfortable. The complete opposite from what I was expecting from, what I’m further inclined to believe is, a criminal organization. This is what I’m uncomfortable with. It took me by surprise.
“It’s okay,” Loreley says, continuing without my answer. “We’re a bit desensitized to it all. But I want you to understand that no one here is going to put a mask on for your sake.”
Excuse me, what? My eyebrows shoot up, but I refrain from saying anything.
“Lulu!” Morrigan says with slight shock in her tone.
“What I mean to say, Evelyn, is that what you’ve seen so far is exactly who we are. We’re not putting a pretty face on just for you, and we don’t have any pretenses for this evening. I understand how you came to be here with us, and I just want to make sure you know that you’re not being deceived into seeing something we want you to believe.”
“You’re telling me that you really are this… family.” The word tastes strange on my tongue.
“The guys are a family. I’m Morri’s friend, and my involvement in this little group of theirs has been reluctant at best.”
I don’t miss the scoff from Maddox. Loreley doesn’t either and shoots him a piercing gaze with eyes that almost match his in color.
“But I didn’t want you to think that anyone was putting on a show for you. Maybe you’ll find some comfort in that.”
Oddly, I do.
I nod, but my gaze drifts toward the inside of the house, to Mamaw June and Maya fiddling with something on the kitchen island. My sister has a great big smile on her face, and Vincent’s mom is beaming, fully focused on her, clearly enjoying the young company. Even if I know Maya has been happy and content all evening, what bothers me is the fact that I felt in my gut that we’ve been safe all this time. I wasn’t uneasy, I wasn’t on edge, and after an hour or so, I stopped looking over to her every minute to make sure she was okay.
I relaxed. And I’m terrified of this feeling. Truly and utterly terrified.
Back in Fleeton, when those scum tried to take her away from me, I was relaxed as well. I was comfortable in our situation, and it caused our downfall.
I cannot be guilty of that all over again.
Yet… Maya looks so happy. I haven’t seen her like this in so long. No matter how hard I tried to protect her, to shelter her, we were still living in motels or our car. I could never offer her… this.
There’s no way I can wipe that happiness off of her sweet soul. Not yet anyway.
I have to do better for her.
“Evelyn?”
I turn at the sound of my name, but I don’t know who spoke it.
My gaze involuntarily falls on the wavy-haired blonde man who seems to glow in these burnt orange hues of the sun. The dying light sharpens his almost square jaw, the wide bridge of his nose, and perfectly sculpted cupid’s bow. I hate the ethereal light Finnigan’s painted in. Especially as he sits in that armchair like it’s his throne, one leg crossed over the knee of the other, back straight, and head cocked, slightly leaned back. He could make any chair look like his own, personal throne.
Christ, Evelyn, get it together.
I turn to Loreley with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I got distracted by Maya. Yes, I understand where you’re coming from, and I appreciate it.”
“Just don’t expect us to suddenly start sharing all our fucking secrets.” Finnigan snarls, addressing me directly for the first time tonight. The unnecessary harshness startles me.
“Finn!” Morri snaps.
I don’t dignify him with a response, turning to Vincent and the others instead.
“Do you have any news on the two men who seemed to lead that operation when you found me?” I ignore Finnigan altogether, asking a question that defies his whole speech about their secrets. Though, this shouldn’t really be a secret. Not from me.
I swear I practically hear him sneer at me, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the grin off my face.
“Not yet,” The man whose name I was reminded earlier is Carter replies. “There’s little to go on, but we will. Let us know if you remember anything else.”
“I will.”
It was a true stroke of luck that the men who… did things to me, Frankie B, as I recalled his name, and the one they called Vassallo, left before The Sanctum arrived. From the snippets I caught through the haze, they were meeting someone. They weren’t tipped off; they simply left for their meeting probably mere minutes before. Though I was so out of it, minutes or hours felt the same to me.
It was pure, dumb luck.
“Have you? Remembered anything else, I mean,” Morrigan asks.
Very little, and nothing I wish to share with the group. There are still wide gaps in my memory, and considering the little I do remember, I’m thankful for those holes.
“Nothing relevant that could trace to them.”
“Everything is relevant, Evelyn. Not to this, but to you… your healing. If you ever need to talk…”
“I’m okay. Thank you.”
She nods but clearly doesn’t believe me.
“Just know you’re safe here. We didn’t leave a trail, so it’s unlikely anyone’s going to come knocking on our door. Or yours,” Maddox says.
His rough features, devoid of a smile, are comforting.
They all fall into comfortable chatter, and I catch brief mentions about a club Morrigan and Loreley apparently own. Something about renovations after a fire, playrooms, and… a stage?
I haven’t asked what exactly this club is, but my curiosity is piqued. I’ve never actually experienced any clubs to be fair, no matter what type theirs is, it’s going to be a novelty for me.
A few minutes later, I walk back into the house to check on my sister. She’s getting tired, but she’s engrossed in a fairytale Vincent’s mom is reciting. Maya doesn’t care much that I’m here, too engrossed in the storytelling, and I step away to the bathroom at the opposite end of the house.
I spend a minute longer here than I need to, enjoying the silence on this side of the house. I’m not used to being surrounded by so many people, so many conversations. It’s overwhelming at times.
Turning the light off, I take a deep breath in the comfort of the darkness and walk out onto the short corridor that leads back into the living room. Only, without light, I smash straight into a hard chest, failing to see that I’m not alone.
“I’m so sorry.” I pull away, but someone grips my shoulders, holding me in place.
“It’s my fault.”
Finnigan.
I can’t help the gasp, drawing in the scent of sea salt and something… sweet and rich, like dark chocolate. Sweet Mary Mother of God. It’s intoxicating. I can almost taste him.
“I want to apologize.” His words startle me.
“For?”
“I was rude… out there,” he answers.
I stay silent because I have nothing to add. He was, indeed, rude.
“You’re not saying anything?”
“No. You said you want to apologize. I didn’t want to interrupt you.” I shrug in his grip.
“I just did.” His scowl taints even his tone.
“You didn’t. You said you want to apologize. You didn’t actually do it.”
The harsh exhale brushes against my forehead and the hands that still hold me tighten against my shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have against me?” the question drops from my mouth before I have a chance to stop it.
“I don’t have anything against you.”
“Don’t lie. You’ll have something else to apologize for again.”
Maybe my eyes haven’t adjusted fully to the low light, and I imagined the corner of his lips quirking.
“I think you should go back to the patio, Evelyn.” God… the way he says my name. He adds an old world twang to it, like a strange caress.
I don’t move. I can’t.
“You’re the one holding me here,” I say.
He doesn’t let go.
Silence falls. More dark chocolate whirls around me. A peculiar electric quiver brushes over my spine, wrapping around my neck and my belly simultaneously, and I think I moved closer to him. Or did I lean in? I don’t know, but my front turns warmer. My mouth drier. The air weighs heavy between us. Even if the hairs on my arms stand up.
“Finnigan…” I whisper.
His hands fall like his name on my lips burned him, and he steps around me, stopping shoulder to shoulder, albeit his is quite a bit higher.
“Go, Evelyn.”
I sigh, disappointed, but with what… I’m not sure.