7. Talon
seven
Talon
S he was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare of a woman. I was doing a deep dive through the recesses of my mind trying to figure out why she had ever been an object of my fantasies, when all I wanted to do to her now was strangle her.
Misely’s skincare routine had taken an hour and a half. The shower ran for twenty minutes, then from the bathroom came the sounds of teeth being brushed, gargling, and the sink running. At some point she opened the door, muttering that she couldn’t see, as steam fell in a heavy cloud into the main room. She turned back on her heel, the mirror squeaking under her palm as she wiped it clear of the fog.
When she finally came back out, she was dressed in the tiniest shorts I’d ever seen in my life, the same cropped shirt she’d been wearing earlier in the night, a silk bonnet over her hair and weird pink jelly looking things under her eyes. At my likely very confused expression, she shrugged. “I don’t want eye bags or split ends. Some of us don’t want to look like the Crypt Keeper when we’re in our forties.”
The pointed look she gave me had me crushing my teeth together to keep from retorting. I wanted to shake her. I had routines. My life was orderly; up by ten, Non-Negotiables, work, ‘work,’ then home by eight, bed by ten again. That is until Milo had to go and fuck the order up. Now I was stuck cleaning up his mess, dragging this blonde menace across the country, fucking up all the routines. It was damn near two in the morning and I was ready to drop.
Said menace shrugged at my non-response, spinning to put her back to me as she climbed into her bed, pulling a pink silk sleep mask down over her eyes. Aggravated and tired, I stood from where I’d been perched on a very uncomfortable reclining chair in the corner. I glared down at Misely where she lay, acting for all the world like an unbothered, pampered little brat. With great pleasure I snatched up her wrist again, locking it again onto the headboard.
She gasped, sitting up and shoving the mask over her eyes again. “Are you serious ?!” She shook her wrist, the metal of the cuffs clanging against the furniture. “How the hell do you expect me to sleep like this?!”
It was my turn to shrug, giving her an indulgent smile. “Not sure. You’ll figure it out.”
Crawling into bed still dressed in my clothes from that day, my stiff muscles sighed in relief that I was finally laying down to rest. It had been a long fucking day, and to say I was ready for bed was an understatement.
Her angry whisper tore across the silence of the room, echoing into the caverns of my chest. “I hate you.”
You and me both, Blondie.
It was noon the following day when I snapped my book shut signaling the completion of my morning routine, when Misely finally deigned to open her eyes. I wanted to be furious that we hadn’t been back on the road hours before, but it was just as much my own fault. I’d been too tired to set an alarm and the hours spent behind the wheel had taken it out of me.
I hadn’t woken until ten thirty and thought it would be better to leave her sleeping while I completed my Non-Negotiables. Didn’t want her trying to hatch an escape plan and cause a scene while I was out on my run. My mind felt clearer than the day before, more confident in my mission now that I had a better idea of how to handle the Blonde Terror in the bed across the room.
She was sassy, probably one of the sassiest women I’d ever met and that really wasn’t a word I used often to describe someone. She was also very confident and well spoken, which meant that intimidation would only go so far. Anything I threw at her would be analyzed and thrown right back in my face, which was fine. It would keep things interesting when we were confined to a small vehicle for long stretches at a time.
And if there weren’t any complications, we’d be in Astoria within the next four days. Instead of sitting idle, I’d used Misely’s egregious amount of time in the bathroom the night before to map out the rest of our journey. I’d accounted for any fuel or rest stops we may need to make. According to the GPS, which automatically factored in tolls and roadwork, it was roughly a thirty-two hour drive from Chicago to Astoria. We’d already knocked out four hours, and I’d been smart enough to fill the gas tank the night before so there would be no reason to stop for a good while.
I was checking things off my mental list, tucking my current read away in my duffel bag when Misely sighed emphatically. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise and chose to ignore her, instead zipping up the bag with gusto.
“You have approximately fifteen seconds to get these cuffs off of me before I piss all over this incredibly poor excuse for a mattress.”
Continuing to ignore her, I sipped my coffee and triple checked that I hadn’t left any of my belongings on my own bed. It would be really irritating if we got halfway through this trip and I realized I had left my last pair of clean socks in some shitty hotel. As predicted, the nightmare woman grew more agitated.
“Hello?!”
I said nothing.
“Are you really going to just ignore me?” she demanded, her tone etched in annoyance.
Throwing my duffel up over my shoulder, I left her to sit fuming. I sat in the car for several minutes, asking myself why I’d decided on antagonizing her. I was pissed, sure. My entire life had been thrown off its axis and I was stuck, as per usual, cleaning up the mess. It wasn’t the girl’s fault, but she was here and an easy target for the anger.
My phone rang in my pocket, serving as an ironic reminder of all the reasons I was in this shit position to begin with.
“Yeah?” I answered, not bothering to look at the screen.
“Briauna tells me you’ve caught a scent.” Like I was some fucking bloodhound.
My eyes threatened to roll into the back of my head.
“I’m following a promising lead, but there’s no guarantees.” If I were smart, I’d just give him Milo’s address and wipe my hands clean of it. Leo would be safe, I could dump Blondie off at the next truck stop, and I could go home and back to my own life. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but my throat tightened to a near close.
There was no way to predict what Kyle would do once I handed over Milo. And my gut told me that this would not be the only time Kyle used my son as leverage, so there was no use making things easy for him now. If I seemed over eager to protect the boy, it would only fuel him to use him more often and that wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
“You’re running out of time, Talon,” Kyle ground out, threat lacing his tone.
“No shit,” I snapped back. “I’m following a lead. If you want me to find him, you’ll get off my back and let me do it.”
“If Milo testifies…” His angry words trailed off, but it was too late. He’d revealed his hand.
Kyle’s case had gone to trial, and Milo was the linchpin. If he spoke in court and testified to our uncle’s position in the crimes he’d forced upon him, no amount of money Kyle threw at his lawyer would save him. He would spend most of the rest of his worthless life in prison. He didn’t give a shit that Milo had ‘betrayed the family,’ as he was constantly saying. Kyle didn’t want to go to prison, and Milo would be the one to put him there—if I didn’t find him first.
“Just fucking find him. You have less than four weeks.” The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me with nothing to do but pull back my fist and send it slamming into the steering wheel. The horn blared, and I blinked, taking a breath and releasing my now sore hand from its tight fist.
Climbing out of the car, I stomped back into the motel room, my sense of urgency renewed. There wasn’t any more time to waste and we’d spent enough of it holed up here. We needed to go.
I expected Misely to be glaring at me when I entered, full of her own rage at my deliberate dismissal of her comfort. Instead, my stomach bottomed out when I walked in to find her staring at me. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her cheeks pink like she’d been struggling not to cry. “ Please ,” she whimpered. “I really need to pee.”
Instinct made me want to apologize. Years of my mother badgering me about using manners when dealing with girls, indoctrinated into my mind. I swallowed, guilt heavy in my core and an apology on the tip of my tongue. I forced myself to remember the part I had to play and why. My mother wasn’t here anymore, but Kyle was. And if I wanted to keep him away from my own kid, then sentimental bullshit wasn’t going to do me any good.
Without a word, I uncuffed the girl, watching the way she gingerly touched the red stripes around her wrist before darting off to the bathroom and slamming the door shut.