7. Chapter 7 #2
“Oh no,” I muttered, watching two figures loom in the frame behind her. Those fucking swine. Another indistinguishable figure came into view as they dragged her toward a large SUV. My hand shot to my lips, tears burning at the back of my eyes. I paused the footage.
“This is all my fault,” I whispered.
Dax’s steely gaze shot to me. “No, Lucy. You can’t think that. Whatever those bastards did, there was nothing you could have done.” His jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together.
“You can’t know that.” I tried not to cry, but I felt a hot, stubborn tear slide down my cheek anyway. “If I hadn’t yelled at her in the bathroom, if I—”
“Stop.” Dax’s warm hand slid cautiously over my own.
I hated how that made a swarm of butterflies burst alive inside me, despite everything we just saw.
“I need you to trust me, Lucy. Fuckers like this will do whatever it takes to get what they want. You can’t blame yourself, or you’ll spend your entire life fixating on it.
It wasn’t your fault.” His voice was strained yet reassuring.
I only gave him a small nod in response.
I wasn’t convinced what he said was entirely true, but I also knew there wasn’t anything I could do that would change the past. There was only the future.
And I wanted to make sure Chad and Gabe only had a future behind bars or six feet under.
I wouldn’t rest until one of those outcomes happened.
Unfortunately, watching this footage didn’t give me nearly the kind of clarity I hoped it would.
My eyes raked the screen, narrowing in on the SUV.
“I wish it wasn’t so blurry.” I sighed. “How the hell am I supposed to show this to the cops if we can’t even make out the license plate? ” I pursed my lips.
I wasn’t expecting Dax to say anything else. He’d agreed to let me watch the footage, but he definitely didn’t sign up to listen to my problems.
That was why I was so surprised when he asked, “That's what you’re planning on doing? Going to the cops?”
I was taken aback. “I mean…of course. Once Tara agrees to it… She met those men online.” I looked at the outline of those two bastards on the monitor with disgust. “Now suddenly we can’t find them there, and there’s a million Chad’s and Gabe’s out there.
I was hoping this would give us a clearer picture of them or something but…
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do now, but those two shouldn’t be able to just get away with what they did. They could hurt someone else.”
Dax’s face was grim, and I felt warm heat run up my spine when I realized his hand was still touching mine. It was comforting, in a way. He was looking at the monitor, but his eyes seemed far away.
“I know someone who can clean the footage up.” His voice was thick with unspoken anger.
I blinked. “You…would do that for me?”
His gaze settled back on me with a fire that made my heart palpitate. “I would do it for anyone.” Somehow, I believed that. “I can get you whatever you need, but don’t go to the cops.”
My jaw dropped. “What do you mean? Of course I should. They need to be arrested for what they did!” How could he say that? If he didn’t think those bastards deserved to go down for what they did, then he was just as bad as them.
He ignored my question. “We will make sure whatever happens to them will be far worse than a jail sentence.” His words carried a dark hue that shook me to my core.
“If you go to the cops, you’re chancing they’ll never see jail time for something like this.
It could get held up in court for years, meanwhile they’re free to do whatever they want. To whoever they want.”
I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to say to that. Tara didn’t want to go to the police either. She wanted to forget this happened and move on with her life. While I understood that, I couldn’t let this go without repercussions.
“What exactly is it you’re suggesting?” I asked him, unable to hide the apprehensive shift in my voice.
The black ink of his tattoos climbed up the back of his hands, and I watched them flex as he removed his hand from mine and placed it flat on the desk in front of him. “We find them, and we ensure they can never do this again.” He said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Then it hit me. “We?” I swallowed.
“This isn’t something you can do alone, Luce.” Dax pressed his lips tight together.
It dawned on me I knew absolutely nothing about the man sitting in front of me.
What he offered wasn’t something most people would be willing to do.
I didn’t even know what the full extent of that could be, but right then I had another one of those gut instincts.
Just like in the laundromat yesterday. Except instead of it telling me I needed to run, it was telling me to stay.
“I thought you wanted to avoid trouble?” I stared at him.
Dax let out a brusque laugh. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Trouble always shows up at my door.” I didn’t know what to make of this, but Dax’s offer to help was all I had at the moment.
“Well, okay. Thanks,” I said. “What exactly are we gonna do?”
Dax swung back in his chair and started to stand up. “There’s not much we can do until the footage is cleaned up. I’ll give you a call when it is, and we’ll go from there.”
I nodded, moving to get up from my seat as well.
I guessed since that was the next move, there wasn’t any other reason for me to be there.
My stomach churned as I followed him back through the hallway, the footage replaying in my head.
Rage was beginning to suffocate me. I couldn’t just sit around and wait for Dax to get back to me with the footage.
I would go crazy in my apartment alone all day, replaying those morbid scenes in my brain.
I was supposed to be finding a job for the summer, not tracking down my best friend’s attackers on some blind path of vengeance.
I was riddled with fear and anger, feeling it close around my throat.
“Dax.” I stopped in the middle of the hallway, right where I had met him that first night. He stilled in front of me and turned around, his brows knitting together. I didn’t know what possessed me to say, “I want the job.”
“What job?” He looked genuinely confused.
I folded my arms against my chest, trying to hold my head high as I faced him. I took an intuitive step toward him. “The dishwasher job. Here.”
Dax inched closer to me, his face completely unreadable. Then, suddenly, he burst into laughter. This was the first time, in the short while I’d known Dax, I heard his real laugh. It was deep and musical, and it completely pissed me off.
“You’ve…got to…be kidding me,” he barked out and reached a hand to scratch the back of his neck, his bicep bulging in a way that might have made me swoon if I wasn’t so angry.
Frustration tore through my nerves as tears welled at the corners of my eyes.
Jesus, I needed to stop crying. I wasn’t usually a crier, but the past few days had just about done me in.
I couldn’t contain the drizzle down my cheek as I choked them back.
I hoped he didn’t notice, but he definitely did.
I knew, because he stopped laughing instantly.
I didn’t notice when he’d gotten so close to me. I avoided his eyes, but he was now inches away. I felt the slow warmth of his finger trail up my cheek, collecting the tear. It burned in its path and I shut my eyes. This was so fucking embarrassing. I heard his deep intake of breath.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were being serious.” He coughed awkwardly.
I spared a glance up at him, biting on the inside of my cheek. His cool eyes bored into mine. I didn’t know what else to do or say. It was time for me to leave. I took a step toward the exit.
“You can have three shifts a week. That’s it and weekends are included.
” Shock burst through my bones as I glanced back up at him.
My ears were ringing. His gaze consumed mine, then it dropped to my quivering lips for the briefest moment.
His features softened. Heat suddenly flushed across my face. Then relief.
I squared my shoulders, reaching my hand out to him.
“Deal.” The second one I had made with him since I’d stumbled into this place.
It struck me how natural it came, and how odd that was.
Like something inside me was telling me it was okay to trust him.
Some magnetic force beckoned me toward him. A gut feeling.
“I’ll see you on Friday. Three-thirty p.m.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. Then, even softer, he said, “Please don’t make me regret this.”
“Yes, Chef,” I breathed out.