Chapter Twelve
Melting Stone
Roisin
Police stations made me nervous, even if I was perfectly clean. I’d never been past the front window, so being summoned to an interrogation room to revisit the details of my wedding not once, but twice in the span of three hours was a little overwhelming.
I had my hood pulled over my head and was doing my best to disappear inside of it and myself. I’d have counted the bricks on the wall if it gave me an excuse to avoid another round of small talk with Sean, who was seated to my right.
Ziggy was doing round three with the detectives. I couldn’t make out the occasional spiked voices, but I had no doubt they were coming from his interrogation room.
A few minutes later the door popped open, and Ziggy emerged with the detectives. They shook hands outside in the hallway before he started our way.
“Ready?” I asked, standing up before he even made it to us.
“More than you could ever know,” he murmured, placing a hand behind me.
“All went well?” Sean asked, once we made it to the sidewalk.
“Yeah,” Ziggy clipped.
Sean’s big, black car pulled up in front of us, and for the first time in my life, I was relieved to climb into the back of it.
“Where to?” he asked, once Ziggy got settled.
“Clubhouse is fine.” He turned his attention to his window, and I kept my eyes glued to the pistol on the back of his hand, it was safer than meeting Sean’s gaze.
He’d warned me twice to make Ziggy happy, and every time I looked at him, it was like he was silently conveying his orders again. I didn’t need his help with Wyatt. We were just fine. I slid my fingers between his and he absently gripped them, making me smile a little.
“They’ll apprehend him, Wyatt. All will be well,” Sean predicted.
“No. They won’t.” Ziggy’s voice was empty, the words dry.
His jaw visibly tensed for several long moments, then he offered a gentle huff that said he’d accepted Menace Zade’s fate.
“If he chooses to force their hand that is a decision that is entirely his. An unfortunate decision that would leave your daughter wounded emotionally, if not physically in the process. Does he truly care so little for Samantha?”
“He called you, didn’t he?” Ziggy’s voice turned to steel and the way he looked at Sean broke my resolve. I’d never seen anyone openly turn a murderous glare on Sean Morgan, and judging from the awkward, frozen grimace of a smile on Sean’s lips, neither had he.
He realized I was staring at him and his gaze narrowed on me briefly, “I was beginning to wonder if you were still capable of smiling, but I see that you are.”
I licked my lips, but it didn’t remove the smile he accused me of having.
The vehicle stopped in front of a building with a black awning. A long chain-link fence with a gate in the center was to the right of the building, but the driver made no effort to turn toward it.
“Enjoy your day,” Sean clipped.
“You, too,” Ziggy threw the door open and all but jerked me from the car.
It took off before he finished slamming the door.
“He isn’t used to that.” I grinned.
“He better get used to it if he thinks he’s going to puppet my fuckin’ life,” Ziggy grumbled, as we neared the front door.
He held it open for me to enter first. The place was dark, but I could see a few people sitting at the bar. One was a female, younger, or smaller, I hadn’t drawn close enough to really determine what I was seeing.
“Shit,” Ziggy cursed.
“What?” I whispered, only to find him staring at the girl.
“That’s Rumi.”
“Who?”
“The girl you tussled with. Henny’s daughter. Listen, try to be easy on her, okay? She’s a kid, and she’s going through some shit. Normally she’s a real sweetheart, but her mother’s dying of cancer, and she hasn’t been herself.”
The girl turned and peeked over her shoulder at us. She sat up a little straighter when she realized who it was.
“He ain’t get rid of you yet?” she antagonized.
Ziggy sucked in a breath, when I tapped him on the shoulder and started toward her, “Ro.”
I ignored his hissing and made my way to the bar, settling on a stool next to her. A man in a vest on the other side nodded toward me, and I smiled, “Coke?”
“You got it.” He swatted the top of the bar and went to fetch it.
“I’m sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have said that to your dad, you were right.”
Rumi stared at me, but didn’t say anything for a moment.
“Ziggy says that your mom is sick.”
“Did he?” She pushed her hair behind her ear and stared at the biker who brought me the Coke.
“Yeah. My mom died of cancer, too. I’m sorry you’re going through it.”
She stared at me, and for a minute, I thought the kid was going to curse me out, but then she just nodded and used her thumbnail to pick at the top of the bar where it was chipped.
“Me, too. We were planning our yearly trip before she was hospitalized.” Rumi let out a heavy breath before mumbling, “Doesn’t matter now, I doubt we’ll be going to Florida or much of anywhere this year.”
Ziggy and Henny were watching us from a doorway at the end of the bar, talking quietly amongst themselves.
“Does your dad ever take trips with you?”
She tipped her head a little, “Not like that. He doesn’t enjoy traveling the way my mother does.”
“Maybe he’d make an exception this year,” I absently mused.
She instantly shook her head, “I wouldn’t want to be so far away from her, not while she is sick like this. Even going to school is–”
She swallowed and averted her gaze. I placed my hand on her shoulder, and she flipped the corner of her lips up in an attempt to smile for me.
“I’m scared I’ll come home, and they’ll say she’s gone.”
“Luckily, you don’t have much of the school year left, huh?”
“Yeah, a few more days,” she agreed.
We talked about everything and nothing and when Ziggy returned, I stood and gave her a hug. She returned it and clung to me without warning.
I smiled and returned the squeeze.
“Here.” I grabbed a napkin and looked at the guy behind the counter, “Pen?”
He patted his vest and shuffled under the bar before offering one to me.
“If you need me, you can call my cell phone anytime.” I scribbled the number and handed it over, along with another hug.
“Thank you,” Henny mouthed, as I followed Zig outside.
He led me to abig van and motioned for me to climb in.
“I don’t get to drive?”
I laughed when his gaze playfully narrowed on me and hurried to the passenger seat. A few minutes later he pulled off the highway at a big greenhouse and landscaping place called Einnar’s.
“I wasn’t sure the place was still open, but I thought maybe we could get some things for you to make the yard yours. Since horticulture is your thing, or whatever,” he announced, as he shut the engine off.
“Really?” I wasn’t expecting any changes to the house or yard, on my behalf, so I was a little slow to move.
“If you don’t want to–” he quietly began.
“No. I do.” I smiled, putting my hand over his and leaning toward him.
He side-eyed me while I planted a kiss on his cheek, “I wasn’t expecting you to be so thoughtful, I was warned you were no Romeo, remember?”
He snorted and drew my hand up like he was going to kiss it, only to nip my knuckle at the last minute. I jerked my hand away and swatted him, before hopping out with a stupid grin. I felt like I’d won something over, or perhaps melted a little bit of that stone heart of his.
When we got back home, I went inside and started pilfering around in the refrigerator and pantry for something to throw together. I had to bite my lip against a smile as I surveyed his shelves.
“Bachelor life,” I nodded, accepting it for what it was.
The man had canned soups, beans, pastas, boxes of macaroni and some pouches of cheesy broccoli noodles. I went for the broccoli noodles and found some sausage in the refrigerator to slice up and fry.
It took him a while to unload the van, but he didn’t seem disappointed by the smell he was greeted with when he caught up with me.
“What are you doing?” He smiled.
“I figured you might be hungry.”
“You were right.” He grabbed himself a beer and fetched a cup of ice for me.
I put juice on it and quickly filled two plates.
“Why didn’t I ever think to combine these?” he teased me.
“Did you ever have to cook in a dorm room?”
“Admittedly, I have not. Though, I did survive on some shit you would not care to sample while deployed.”
“I’ve heard of that stuff, ‘ready to eat’ meals or whatever.”
He grunted and nodded his head while working on a mouthful of noodles.
“I swear, I can cook more than boxed stuff. If there's something you like–” I offered, unsure of his shopping habits or when he intended to return to a grocery store.
“I believe you.” He winked. “This is good. Thank you. I eat just about everything, though, don’t go all out for me if you hit a store.”
“Does Sammy call home often?” I asked when the conversation lulled a moment.
“I don’t know,” he absently mused, before glancing up at me, “You want to talk to her or something?”
I didn’t know her. I’d never met her in my life, and I really wasn’t even sure I’d know what to say when we did get around to meeting each other.
“No.” I answered honestly, “I just figure the more often she calls, the quicker the man who killed my brother will meet justice. Especially now that the police are involved, right?”
Ziggy slowly stopped chewing and swallowed. He laid his fork on his plate without a sound, but I still flinched.
“I’m gonna grab a shower,” he quietly announced, and I don’t know why, but a little part of me wished he would have screamed it.