Chapter 40
FORTY
KYRA
I nestle into my new armchair and pull a blanket over my legs before reaching for my cup of berry tea. Half of my furniture order has arrived, but most notably, the bed was put on backorder. Which means sleeping on the air mattress a little longer.
I can cope if this is my new cozy haven.
Soft light spills over my nest from the lamp behind me, the rest of the living room dark and atmospheric save for the lamp near the kitchen. I tug the book I’m currently reading onto my lap, but no sooner have I opened to the marker than the rumble of a motorbike breaks the peaceful quiet.
They found where I live. The thought zaps into my brain, and I scramble to undo my coziness so I can check behind the temporary curtains.
The fear has lain dormant in my subconscious since the alley, but it screams to the forefront now that things between Jinx and me are on pause.
What if the Devil’s Breed comes after me?
What if they know it was me who figured out where they take the women?
“Damn it.” I crouch down and peer into the night, cursing the lamplight that clearly indicates I’m home.
The bike pulls off to the side of the road, and at first, relief floods me when the familiar shape makes me think it’s only Jinx. But the rider has no helmet. He always rides with a helmet.
I shrink lower, only one eye able to see over the sill as the rider dismounts and the patch comes into view.
A leering skull. Thank fuck.
I place my hand to my chest to will the organ to slow, then stand and head for the front door. He’s most of the way up the path by the time I pull it open.
“What’s with the lack of safety, huh?” I point to my head to indicate his helmet.
Tired eyes find mine as he continues to approach without saying a word. Jinx crosses through the spills of moonlight, and I note the odd dark patch on the left side of his shirt.
“What happened?” The unspent fear bleeds to the surface, building into a frenzy.
“We went to the house,” he rumbles. “Can we go inside? I need to use your bathroom.”
Odd. But, “Sure.” I step aside, letting Jinx breeze past.
He stalls for a split second to look up at the enormous hole in the ceiling, and then continues to the kitchen, stopping at the sink.
“Bathroom is to the right.”
“This will do.” He turns the tap on and then strips his cut, setting it carefully on the counter to his right. “Your hunch was right,” he explains as he unbuttons his shirt. “We found six women. One of them is just a girl.”
Oh my God. It’s the news I wanted, but also the news I dreaded. “Are they okay?”
“As far as we can tell, they are physically.” He unrolls the sleeves, strips the shirt off, and then follows it with the T-shirt underneath. “Is there an exit wound?”
“Is there a what?” Did I hear him right?
The pile of clothes on the floor is distinctly red-tinged now that the lamp light hits it.
“On the back of my shoulder, Kyra.” He tries to point to the site, but his brawn makes it hard to get his arm across his body. “Is there a hole?”
“Hold on.” I dash over, collect my phone from the side table, and switch on the torch.
Yes, I have overhead lights, but no, I haven’t bought new, brighter bulbs yet.
I shine the light on his skin, searching amongst the blood for what he said. Sure enough, near the outside of his arm is a small hole, steadily bubbling blood that adds to the mess running down the back of his bicep. “Yes.” I set the phone down and retrieve a clean cloth. “There is.”
“Good.” Jinx leans on the edge of the counter, head hung as he sighs.
“I never trained in first aid,” I confess, switching the lever so the tap runs warm. “Other than pack the hole, I don’t really know what you’re supposed to do.”
“Apply pressure.” His words are tired. Resigned.
“What else did you find?” I ask quietly, bringing the freshly squeezed out cloth to his skin.
He stays quiet for a while as I clean the area. “I didn’t see anything, but Fang said there was a girl who’d passed away down there.”
The seventh. “Down where?” I rinse his blood from the cloth.
“In the cellar.”
He lets me clean in silence again while we likely both process the reality of the situation.
Not only does a rival club traffic women through our state, but they do it in a way that costs lives.
My heart aches for the poor woman. What happened to her to end up in their possession? Why did she pass away?
How many more like her are there?
“I probably should have sorted this out before I came over,” Jinx mumbles.
“You can get it sorted properly when you get back,” I tell him. “I’m glad you came here to tell me what you found. Thank you.”
His hand covers the one I have resting on his arm as I work. “I want you to come back with me. To see them.” He meets my eye. “You deserve to know the people you helped.”
I draw a deep breath and look back at his injury. “I did next to nothing. You’re the hero.”
“I’m not a hero, Kyra,” he grumbles. “Don’t go getting yourself confused about that.”
I don’t think I’m the one confused.
“There.” I toss the bloody cloth in the sink and shut off the tap. “The area’s clean, but I don’t have anything to dress it.”
Jinx bends to retrieve his T-shirt and tears off a few strips. “You got scissors?”
“Yeah.”
“Cut some smaller squares off one of these to pack the wound.”
“But it’s not clean.”
“It’s cleaner than continuing to lose my blood everywhere,” he counters.
Fine. I do as he instructs and snip small squares that I then press begrudgingly into the wound site as he hisses in pain, before wrapping his upper arm and shoulder with tight bands of fabric.
“Do you go to the emergency room to get this seen to?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Or do you have a vet on the payroll who does it on the sly?”
He smirks at my question. “We have doctors who need the extra cash off the books.”
“Right.” I take a step back, unsure what to do next.
Jinx studies me, leaning against the counter as he does. “You never let me know what you decided.”
“That’s because I haven’t yet.”
I know what my heart wants. I know what my soul yearns for.
But then I think of Mom and what the town would do to her when it found out her daughter dated a King of Anarchy.
I think of my brother, ridiculed by his peers because his little sister is a lawbreaker.
And I think of Dad, as much as I don’t want to—of how it would taint his reputation as the Sheriff.
I think of the years to come where he’d deny his grandchildren a right to know him and how that’d feel—for them and me.
“Every argument I have against this isn’t my own,” I say. “If it were just about you and me, the answer would be clear. I’d pick you. Always. But it’s not just about us. There are a lot of people affected by what I choose to do here.”
He hangs his head, arms folded over his muscular chest. He looks like a warrior with his one shoulder bound, and I suppose in a way he is.
He rode in to rescue captive women tonight and got hurt in the process.
All because that’s just the type of guy he is.
“But you know what?” I say, piquing his interest again. “I’ve spent too long prioritizing everyone around me at the cost of my own happiness. And for what? To be judged for my choices? To be cut off when I don’t meet their standards? I say fuck that and fuck them.”
He smirks.
“I choose you.”