34
Conflict
Amanda
Last night Shade listened to my rehashing of events without a change of expression. He even took notes. It felt more like a therapy session with a light dusting of questions in a cold voice. I cringed every time he spoke. He seemed to notice, especially after I explained Gabriel’s part in this farce. The notes he took for that got ripped out of the book and handed to South. She took a picture and wandered to the couch to play on her phone.
I’m thanking God she left the vicinity because I can’t watch them constantly touching each other. Even though they’re mostly emotionless, their love is obvious enough to hurt.
Shade spent a little time explaining that there was no way Gabriel had anything to do with Blake. I listened, but inside, his words fell on deaf ears. His assurance could be the hopes of a brother. I hope Gabriel magically happens to stab himself in the eye. Between South and I, reality has taken a vacation so it could happen.
When he noticed I wasn’t really listening, he sent me to bed with a grim promise that everything would be looked into.
Even though I stayed up late, I didn’t sleep. My eyelids are heavy, and the circles under them aren’t pretty. I shower again to get that gritty dirt sensation that’s lingering off of me. Use a first aid kit on the cuts, bumps, and bruises. Then I pull on my only set of clean clothes and throw the borrowed pajamas in the wash.
Neither of them is up yet, so it gives me some time to figure out what’s next. Visiting good old Blake for sure. Closing my bank account. After that, I’m kind of lost. I do want those files from Matthias’ office. After my rage purge all over their vehicles, something tells me they won’t hand them over with a smile. Not that I expect to have anything to do with them ever again in the first place.
Maybe I can convince Shade to get it for me? Do I want them any more involved? No, I don’t. But they seem to have both feet firmly planted on my side and I can’t overlook it.
South appears and goes into the kitchen to start some tea. Her teal locks are in wild disarray, and my eyebrow rises at the obvious sex hair. I also spotted two brand-new hickeys when she passed. A sinking feeling pulls my eyes away from her. It pisses me off that I’m even affected by it.
She turns to face me and is all business. “Bank. Blake. Lunch.”
Why did I make a plan again? I have a psycho drill instructor for that now.
“Sure,” I don’t bother arguing. “Can Shade get those files from Gabriel or do I need to figure out if I’m any good at breaking and entering.”
“Tera will be upset if you take over that skillset,” she assures me. She finishes making the tea while I stare at her in disbelief and takes it back into the bedroom.
That sweet, innocent puppy of a woman has a history of breaking and entering? How?
South re-emerges dressed and ready to go. Shade follows her, sipping his tea with a smugly satisfied look. I’m jealous and sad at the same time. I can’t look at them, focusing on the table in front of me.
“I cut a few holes in your pants and left an escape card for you,” South says blithely.
I blink at her in confusion.
“Around your waist,” she glances at me. “A metal card filled with tools to help you escape if you’re taken against your will. Small. Subtle. Useful. You should do the same to any other pair you wear. Have it with you always.”
My blank stare makes her shake her head. She refocuses on Shade.
They’re all over each other, only separating when South says she’s going. The look on his face when his hands fall away from her says he misses her already.
I think I officially hate happy couples.
I follow her without saying anything, putting on my gloves and grabbing the baton on my way. I practice a few spins on my way out before Shade’s voice stops me.
“Hey, Amanda,” Shade stops me. “Here’s your phone. I have a copy of the video, just in case. And I put our numbers back in. I didn’t think my joke would backfire like that. It won’t happen again.”
I glance down at the phone’s cracked screen and take it from his hand. It’s fully charged.
“I’m getting the files,” he adds with a slight frown. “I’ll dig through them and come up with something.”
“Thanks,” I mutter without looking at him. One problem down, hopefully. I’m already focused on what I need to accomplish today to care about anything else.
The bank is happy to close the account and give me cash. A little over one thousand is left, which surprises me. I was afraid my account was negative about 3 million dollars. They see the strip keeping the cut on my eyebrow closed and my bruised-up face but don’t comment.
The trip to Blake’s office is made in silence, my fingers tensing and relaxing over the baton as I stare out the passenger window. I don’t have as many pointed questions as I’d like, but I figure I’ll wing it and South can chime in if something comes to her.
Which judges are his? Which law offices? Any other properties. I want to steer clear of any personal information as much as I can. There’s a real risk that I’ll lose my temper like I did on Janine if I go there. Or puke.
I need as much information as I can get and to get it to Shade as soon as possible. They haven’t shot at me yet, but I know it’s coming. My time is currently borrowed, and I don’t know when I’ll have to pay it back.
“Are we making you a widow today?”
I glance at South and mull that one over for a second. A slow grin begins to spread across my face, and she notes it with a raised brow.
“Maybe. I can’t see him as the big bad guy in this. He’s a moron that thinks with his dick. If someone higher up sees him as a leak, they’re going to want to shut him up. I won’t have to lift a finger.”
Her head tilts to take that in.
“Lazy.”
“Just my style,” I tell her, my smile still bright with vicious satisfaction.
“You think he’s the one to set them on you?” She asks, her brows dipping down.
“Could be. Might be someone else, too. There’s too much going on, like it’s more than one person fucking with me. I’ve gotta take it one step at a time, or I’ll lose it.”
“No running,” South says with a narrow-eyed glance.
“Fuck that,” I glare back at her. “They messed with the bull. Let them enjoy the horns.”
She lets out a sigh, and her lips turn up. Her pleasure at the fact that I’m a violent mess right now is soothing. She doesn’t mind it at all. It’s good to have support even when you know it’s messed up.
“Quick question,” I ask, narrowing my eyes on her curiously. “Would you help me bury a body?”
“No,” she answers without pausing. The disappointment takes a turn into unhealthy satisfaction as she continues. “It isn’t worth the blisters. There are better methods.”
We park several buildings down from Blake’s office. Now that everyone else is starting their day, traffic is picking up. We have to wait at a stoplight for a break in the traffic to cross.
South’s magical ability to make everyone ignore her is amazing. People pay no attention to us as we walk against the traffic. No one looks, yet they part for us as if they sense an obstacle in their path.
She’s also interested in the fact that no one sees me . I consider this a bonus because I don’t want any witnesses until it’s too late to stop me.
We walk in, and no one greets us. The elevator ride is made with two people chatting about a meeting later in the afternoon with a department head. They stay on the opposite side of the elevator from us but don’t pay attention. That isn’t weird until our floor comes, and we exit.
“That was weird,” one of them laughs in confusion.
“Maybe we should get out. If the doors are opening by themselves-”
I can’t follow the conversation any further because I don’t think I could pretend to be sane after hearing whatever excuse they come up with to make this normal. There is no normal anymore.
We walk directly to Blake’s office door without anyone the wiser. The blinds are closed, and his secretary isn’t at her desk.
I take a moment to grab my phone and start an audio recording. Just in case. Then the phone goes into my back pocket to forget about.
I don’t want to think about the recording. I don’t want to think about blackmail or evidence to use against me. This needs to be done and I need as much proof as I can get to keep Shade in the loop. I have no idea what he’ll do with it but he will do something at least. Even if I’m dead.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. South glances at me as she settles against the doorway to keep watch. She makes it obvious that I’m on my own now.
I don’t wait for the pep talk that isn’t coming from her. I twist the knob and walk in like I belong there.
Blake sits up in his chair, sweaty and red in the face. The move is so abrupt that a muffled whine comes from under the desk. The drawn blinds and the missing secretary mystery have been solved. He didn’t lock the door? What a moron.
“Get up and get out,” I look at the desk, feeling a pain twist my heart at the knowledge I fantasized about doing that not too long ago. The feeling drops when I realize it would be for a man just like this . Oddly, I don’t have any reaction to the fact that it’s my soon-to-be ex-husband who’s getting the service with a smile.
“M-mandy!” Blake clears his throat loudly. The soft thump of someone hitting their head makes my lips twitch up.
“I’ve gotten so used to seeing that expression on your face. This kind of shit is a little pathetic,” I try to joke, but it falls flat from my bland tone. “Leave. I have some private matters to discuss with your boss.”
Blake is in the middle of protesting when a blond head appears, and a woman shuffles by his chair on her knees. She straightens and tries to look casual, which makes me crack up. Her eyes narrow at the sound, and her lips curl up into a sneer.
“What’s so funny?” She snaps, which makes the laughter worse.
“You need to fix your lipstick,” I point to the corners of my lips. She was so into it that she looks like she’s ready for her clown debut. If she knew what Blake was really like she would gargle a whole bottle of mouthwash and still be puking.
“Get out of here,” Blake’s eyes narrow on me as he slaps her on the ass. As if he’s trying to get a reaction out of me.
Classy.
I take the seat across from him as she hurries out.
“So, you don’t mind it now?” He asks, his expression turning smug.
“I don’t care,” I sigh, glancing around at all the diplomas and useless art around him.
“If you want money from me, there will be rules when you get home,” his lips start to lift in a grin. My expression stays blank when I return my attention to him.
“Why do you want me back, Blake? You’ve got plenty of action to keep you busy.” My stomach twists at the thought. I push that away to stay focused.
“Because I miss you so much,” he reaches across the desk as if he wants to hold my hand. I look at the gesture and then to him. His turnaround from smug asshole to devoted husband is nauseating by itself.
“Uh-huh.”
“Please come home.”
I sigh again. The nerves are slowly settling, but my shoulders are tensing up. Readying for the violence I know is coming. I can feel that pulse of doom under my breastbone. It’s light for now, but it will get worse soon enough.
“What happened to your face , sweetheart? And why do you have a cane?” His voice is sickly sweet with concern but the gleam in his eyes is all pleasure as he takes in my wounds.
“Stairs have it out for me. What can you do?” I mock flatly.
“You fell ?” He widens his eyes in a perfect imitation of a jackass pretending to care. He deserves an Oscar.
“I was pushed, actually.”
He goes through a medley of fake shock and rage on my behalf. I watch the play with a flat expression, not bothering to interrupt. By the time he winds down with a promise of finding out who could have possibly done something so horrible, I’m ready to be done with this.
“I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer,” I say, pulling the baton into my lap to keep it at the ready. The pressure on my chest increases.
“Of course, sweetheart,” he says with an innocent expression. He looks like he prepared a statement in case I ever showed up, which makes my eyes narrow. He knows I was at the site, and he’s still playing useless games.
“Who is buying the properties?”
He freezes up in surprise. A flash of panic hits him before he laughs in a choked sound. “What properties?”
“Which one should I choose?” My voice stays even as I play the game along with him. “I can’t remember the exact address for most of them. Hard to memorize that many. Let me think. The property that you planned to turn into housing? Where was that again?”
“What?” He scowls with honest confusion and a dash of hope. He doesn’t have any plans for housing development. I’ve got an honest reaction out of him, though. Underneath all the slick, innocent husband guise, he’s scared. He has no idea how much worse that feeling is going to get today.
“Oh shit,” I shake my head. “That’s not right, is it? I meant the golfing property. How’s the construction going on that?”
His face quickly drops into an expression I don’t recognize. It fluctuates rapidly between fear, horror, panic, and anger. He settles on a grim look of disgust.
As if I’m the one that’s gross. Unbelievable.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sweetie, are you feeling okay?” The words are right, but the tone darkens with anger.
“It is a sandpit deathtrap out there,” I force a laugh that comes out toneless and fake. “Tell me you’re putting in a pond to break it all up. A shack to cover up the door to your revolting, yuppy hideaway? Maybe a few orange cones around the dead body? It’s a tripping hazard.”
This time, it’s pure panic.
He doesn’t know. He had no idea I was there until just now.
And then he turns smug again.
“Anything you’re talking about is easy to erase. You don’t have any photos to prove a connection to me.”
“Who took them?” I have a suspicion, but I hope I’m wrong.
“They’re in Matthias’ hands as we speak,” he gloats with a grin. “He’ll be returning them soon enough.”
“Oh no. I’m so shocked.” I didn’t realize any more emotion could drain out of my voice. I sound like a robot. Inside, I feel an emotional dagger slide through my ribs and twist. Something isn’t right about this, but I’m too focused on Blake to think about it right now.
“Do you have Gabriel on speed dial? Do you gossip like little girls at night? Paint each other's nails like the pussies you are?”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise in warning, and the pressure becomes heavy enough that my breathing goes shallow. My hands tighten down on the baton. It’s almost time.
For a second, I think I have him, and then he falls into his smug self-assurance again. That doom pressure doesn’t ease, though. This is an act. He’s getting ready.
“I have a meeting to get ready for. Get out.”
I watch him straighten his tie, regaining his ego from whatever disgusting pit it comes out of.
“You might want to buzz your secretary and tell her to reschedule,” I suggest mildly.
“Really,” he gives me a mocking, disappointed look. “And why is that? Do you think I’m going to listen to more pathetic threats?”
“Because you’re going to miss it. I can guarantee it.”
He laughs in a low tone that makes my stomach roll with the urge to puke. Without the filter I wore throughout our marriage, I can hear the slime that coats it.
“I don’t think so. But if you insist, why don’t you call Matthias yourself? Ask him to meet me here instead of at the restaurant. I’m sure he’d love to speak with you.”
I don’t reply, and he falls into light chuckles. His eyes twinkle with malicious joy.
“How bad did it hurt that your meal ticket turned out to be a trap? Which one told you the truth?” He settles into light chuckles, his eyes twinkling with malicious joy. “Ace? I know you’ve been fucking him.”
That doesn’t line up.
“I haven’t, actually,” I tilt my head to study him curiously. “Somebody has been lying to you.”
“I have you dead to rights on adultery,” he boasts.
I’m not correcting him again. If he’s convinced that Ace and I had sex, it’s because Ace told him. I can’t think of a single reason why he would, though.
“How sad,” I tell him blandly instead.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you get torn apart in court,” he informs me with relish. “Or you could just walk your ass home, and we can pretend all of this was a bad dream. I was good to you. You won’t have any more problems.”
“Under what rules?” I can’t inject any emotion into the words. I’m stuck in some limbo of deadened feeling.
“Keep your fucking mouth shut. That’s it. I’ll increase the amount of money you can spend, and you’ll be back to normal.”
“Just like that.”
“Just like that, sweetheart,” his voice falls into a soothing whisper.
“No more pedestrian assault or stair pushing or gunfire.”
His eyes narrow. A thought crosses his mind, and his eyes dart away from me.
“Of course.”
I don’t believe that for a second.
“We’ll discuss it after my meeting with Matthias. Why don’t you go home and change into something more your style.” He starts straightening things on his desk that aren’t out of place to dismiss me. What made him so nervous all of a sudden?
“We’ll discuss it now.”
“Give me a break, Mandy . You’re too busy being the perfect wife to care about where the money comes from as long as you get a piece of it.”
“But there’s so much more hidden away somewhere, isn’t there?”
He sits back in his seat with an incredulous frown. “I don’t deal with any of that shit, so you’re out of luck.”
“I know it isn’t in your account,” I tell him calmly. “At least someone knows you’re not smart enough to handle it.”
He stills in surprise. I’ve got his attention for sure now.
“Well if it isn’t my account, whose is it?” He mockingly asks. He’s leaning forward with his elbows braced on the desk now. I can feel him encroaching into my personal space bubble. The menacing look on his face is all the warning I need to know that violence is coming very soon. No superpower needed.
“Judge Fullerton?” I ask as my hands twist on the baton. Inside my gloves, my palms are sweating.
He raises an eyebrow with a smirk.
“Maybe that lawyer, Karter Jakolski? You guys have been friends for a while. But let’s stop fucking around. Whose account is it?”
“You don’t know anything,” he smirks victoriously.
“That’s why I’m asking,” I tell him in a slow, mocking voice.
“And I’m supposed to answer you just like that? Are you wearing a wire?” He laughs at the question, shaking his head. “No cop is going to save you. We have them all.”
“Whose account is it? Who else is involved?”
“Why don’t I prove it? I’ll call the cops right now and have you hauled away.”
I’ve already played that game.
His smug smirk changes into a stiff, frozen expression as I whip the baton out and knock the desk phone into the wall. I finish it with a twirl and put it back in my lap.
“Oops,” I comment without tone.
“You fucking bitch,” he mutters low, his shoulders hunching as he stands in the slowest threat possible. I’m not impressed.
“Why is that the first insult? People need to get more creative. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t have-”
A heavy pulse hits my chest. I tip the seat as he lunges across the desk, trying to fall on my back. It doesn’t work out that way. I start falling as he clears the desk. My cheek gets clipped by his shoulder, dazing me before my back hits the ground. The fabric back of the seat doesn’t do much to cushion the impact. His body blocks my use of the baton for a second.
He straddles me. A backhand slap connects with my already bruised cheek before I can get my bearings. I twist to bring the baton up just as his bunched fist comes down. He hits the hammer end of it and cries out as it tears out of my grip and smacks my collarbone.
Ow.
He's off me just as fast, hunched over his hand and cursing viciously. I use the time to regain my feet, snatching the baton up again.
“Who else is involved,” I say through gritted teeth. There’s a cut on the inside of my cheek that’s bleeding. My face is burning as a familiar throb starts in my face. I need to get a helmet.
“Fuck you,” he spits.
The attack has jolted me into that raging, ready state. I’m not bored anymore. All my cold focus is on him with a purpose.
I flip the baton up and catch the tip, then double-hand it to swing at his calf like it’s a baseball bat. He’s so busy watching the spin in a stupor he’s too slow to dodge. There’s a loud crack before his eyes widen, and he screams, falling to his side. I caught him with the thin end, overshooting the hammer head by half an inch. I’m disappointed in myself despite the obvious break.
“Who else.”
He gasps in a breath, tears streaming down his face to start cursing again. Unlike the landlord he’s frozen stiff on the carpet like he can’t believe he’s in pain. He starts repeating the same curse over and over.
“I don’t think Jesus Christ is bankrolling your sex trafficking scheme. Who.” My voice has dropped into a dead zone of nothing as I plan my next move.
“No, no, no. I just buy the properties,” he babbles with wide eyes.
Not the answer I’m looking for. He seems to realize it because he starts using his feet to scramble back. He’s forced to stop when he applies pressure to his broken leg. A grotesque bulge comes up where his shin should be under his slacks. I miss my intended target and bring the hammerhead down on his ankle because of it. There’s the sound of bone breaking and then a silence. His choked wail of agony takes a second to come out. He’s too busy staring at his foot in disbelief for the pain to click.
I glance at the door to make sure no one is coming. No one is jiggling the handle in a panic, so I call it good.
“Hey, if you hold out long enough, your golfing buddy Matthias might save you,” I tell him as I catch my breath.
“I’ll give you whatever you want. Money. The pictures of you with Ace. Anything.”
“The only thing I want from you is names. The more you stall, the more bones I break.” My bland tone makes him start sobbing. I’m a little surprised by it.
“This isn’t you, Amanda,” he pants desperately. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Looks like your luck in that regard just ran out,” I spin the baton, and his eyes drop to it warily. “Who?”
“I buy the properties. That’s it. I’m nothing in the scheme of things. I wasn’t even supposed to be in the playhouse. Karter got me in. He’s one of the top guys. Said it was good money as long as I didn’t ask questions.”
“So you didn’t,” I mutter as I stare at his violently shaking hands.
“Of course not. You wouldn’t either if you had seen how much he has. All that power and the women . They’re everywhere.”
The gleam in his eyes as he talks about it makes my nausea worse. He doesn’t care how he gets his money or anything else. The only thing that matters is that he gets it. He’s a leech that latched onto a rotten carcass.
“He helped you get the purchases through.”
“No shit,” he snaps and then swallows as he eyes the baton’s movements in my hands. “Fullerton made it smooth, too. I don’t know anyone else. I’m on the fucking outside .”
“Who has the account for all this money?”
His watery eyes meet mine, and he starts laughing. It's low at first but then loud enough that my ears ring.
“You do, you dumb bitch.”
I bring the hammerhead down on his knee with both hands. His laugh falls into angry roars of pain. I watch him try to clutch his leg with his good hand. The other has bloated up and already turned black. I lift again to get this hand, too. His screams become ear-piercing in intensity.
“That’s why you wanted me back.” I take another shot at his thigh.
“Because it’s all in my name somewhere.” Another hit on the same leg, no aim.
“All the pleading and maneuvering.” Again. My hands are tingling after every hit.
“You thought I’d come back and be as blind as I was before. Easy to manipulate.”
The sick part is I might have done it. Without the letters and photos Mrs. Danvers tortured me with, I could have been talked around to saving my marriage. The idea of how brainwashed I was makes me want to scream in rage, but I’m too calm for that.
I pause my hits as an idea comes to me.
“You don’t want me to find it and empty it, do you?” I ask in a taunt. “That’s why I’m still useful. Do they know?”
He’s too busy babbling pleas to pay attention. I prop his chin up with the baton to get his eyes on me instead of the pulp he used to consider a leg.
“What would happen to all your power and women if you fucked this up, Blake?”
His mouth moves without sound. The enormity of telling me all of this is hitting him as hard as the baton. His face is covered with tears, snot, and spit. He’s gaunt with pain. Sweating.
“Amanda. Don’t be stupid,” he pants with terrified eyes.
“I’m getting called that a lot lately. I’m not a fan,” I tell him casually.
I pace to his side, and he starts sobbing again. It doesn’t make a dent in my anger. I don’t hesitate to swing the stick like I’m holding an ax to chop wood. He lifts his arm instinctively to block the blow aimed at his stomach. I end up breaking his forearm instead. I wait for him to regather himself from screaming to keep going.
“The account, where is it?”
I swing the baton like a pendulum over his pale, shaking form.
“You looked inside. They’re going to kill you,” he snaps, his voice getting weak. “There’s cameras everywhere . They work even after the shutdown. I can help you.”
“They had to move sites, didn’t they? Because someone found your bunker. The wind uncovered the door for me, but he popped right in.”
“You’re dead without me.”
The gritted words make me smile.
“I’m already dead. But don’t worry, sweetheart . I’m taking you with me. And any other motherfucker that I find had a tiny pinky toe in this. Speaking of toes.”
He starts screaming before I can even get in position. I line up my shot and swing at his foot like the stick is now a golf club. It seems fitting. I miss a few times, but when I finally get it, he passes out.
I glance at his slack expression, seething inside. I want to keep going. It doesn’t feel like enough. I should break this fucker into tiny pieces and feed him to sharks.
I snap out of it and gasp in a sharp breath.
I can’t do that. He’s going to blab as soon as he’s conscious. If someone else knows I’ve been questioning him, they’ll come for him themselves. I need to know who gets sent and follow that back. I can’t keep going, no matter how bad I want to.
I didn’t get enough information from him but that doom feeling is still buzzing around inside me. I need to get out of here, not wait for him to wake up.
I fish his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and head for the door.
South is still waiting outside with a blank expression. She straightens from the wall without a word and starts walking. I close the door and follow her quickly.
It blows my mind that not a single person pays attention to us. There aren’t any hysterics or cops called. We walk out as easily as we walked in. Did no one hear him? Is her invisible crap covering sound too? My brain is melting.
“Hey,” I hiss to South, hurrying to catch up.
She slows to look over her shoulder.
“This is Blake’s. Can you get it to Shade? Just in case. He also said that the money was getting moved through an account with my name on it. I need a lookout on Blake to see who visits him in the hospital.”
I pull my phone as she takes the other one. I stop the recording and send it in a text to Shade, adding in the request for a lookout and the fact that South has Blake’s phone. I’m not leaving anything to chance.
My thumbs hover as I glance at his name. I back out to my contacts and look at the list. Mom, Dad, South, Shade.
“What?” South asks, looking over my shoulder.
“I should memorize and erase your numbers. Just in case. Delete everything.”
I swallow hard and delete Mom and Dad. I already know those two by heart. I don’t know if I’ll ever hear their voices again. The knowledge hits me, forcing a few tears into my eyes.
My Mom would have loved what I just did. Although she wouldn’t have seen it, hearing about it would have made her day if she knew all the things he’d done.
South steps in front of me to call the elevator, waiting until we’re inside alone to comment.
“You never have to worry for us. I have that handled. Your job is to get the information to Shade as you get it. In a stressful situation, you’ll forget the numbers. Put our contacts on your speed dial list. Besides, if something happens to you, I’ll want a visit from them anyway. They’ll owe. I’m always ready to collect.”
“He said he was meeting with Gabriel,” I almost choke on his name. A different type of ache starts up that won’t leave me alone.
South makes a muted, thoughtful sound and comments. “He lied. I’ve seen evil. Gabe isn’t it.”
“I hope you’re right, for Shade’s sake.” It’s too late for me to believe that.
“Tera has done her homework,” South glances at me. “She visited Gabriel today with evidence that proves your innocence.”
“The pregnant chick faced down those jackals? Are you all insane?” I gape at her as my face pales. “Is she ok? Has she texted? Shit, give me her number.”
“Why?” The bland question makes me gnash my teeth as the doors open for us to exit.
“So I can yell at her too! She’s supposed to be safe ! As in, far the fuck away from all this.”
“She’s safe,” South assures me. “I’ll give her your contact info.”
“Your ego is colossal. You can’t be everywhere at once, South. Keep her out of this!”
“Shade is with her,” South says blandly.
Her text tone goes off as we reach the exit. She pauses to answer, and I walk through the doors. Stepping onto the sidewalk and seeing the bright sunlight is surreal for a second. I take a few steps to see South’s truck. The traffic has gotten heavy enough that it’s a blur of passing vehicles covering it. We’ll have to get to a stoplight to cross this insanity.
The foot traffic is even worse. I’m jostled a little and turn to glare at whoever passed. Before I can say anything to the woman talking on her phone, a fist punches into the middle of my back, making me stumble forward into the traffic.
A horn screams at me as I pinwheel to try and get back onto the sidewalk. The screech of brakes fills my ears before I manage a step back to safety.
Thudding footsteps run away. I turn my head with a teeth-bared snarl. South passes me in a blur. I can’t get a good view, but the crowd is parting for her. I’m left to contemplate how close I just came to moshing with a car.