Chapter Eight
GRIFFIN
That mother fucker laid his grimy fingers on my Emma twice? I wanted his hands before, but now I’m going to cut them off.
The ambulance arrived and we got Mark loaded up. He told Emma to speak with her uncle about spending the night there, but in a quick move, I managed to convince him to let her stay with me. I’m his oldest friend, after all. Why would I have any sinister intentions with his daughter?
It’s times like these I wonder what I’d do if I wasn’t who I am. Would I take her home and tuck her into bed? Not fantasize about her pink panties and naked body. Even with Mark on a gurney, and paramedics checking his vitals, I can’t get the thought of the taste of his daughter out of my head.
When the ambulance drives off and I give my report of what happened to the police detail, things turn serious. I made jokes with Mark, to lighten his spirits after he got his ass handed to him. But Emma’s going to have questions. Hard ones. And I’m going to answer them all.
“Why didn’t you let me stop him?” Emma spits.
I close her front door, sealing it with yellow Do Not Cross tape.
“What if he had a gun?”
“You have yours.” Her head jerks towards my pistol.
“We’re going to find him. You’re just going to have to trust me,” I say.
“We? You didn’t give the other cops his number plate.”
Shit. Did she notice that? I was hoping it would slide under the radar. I’m going to do my own investigation into this piece of shit. I’ve worked with my one rule of never making things personal for so long, and it’s served me well. But I’ll break it for Emma.
“I’m going to take care of him.” I won’t elaborate. Not yet, when the neighbors could still be listening.
We walk back to my car and get in. Once we’re on the road, and a few blocks away from the McAllister house, Emma speaks again.
“Why did you come back to our house?”
“I forgot my cellphone. Saw the door open and—“
“I can smell the bullshit coming from your mouth,” she says. She’s cute when she’s angry.
“I wanted to see you, again. Just once.” The corner of her lip ticks up, but it doesn’t last long. “How are you?”
“I’m pissed off. Don’t try and change the subject,” she says coldly.
“Pissed off? Not scared?” I ask. Her response piqued my interest. I can understand the anger, given her situation, but she hasn’t shown a sign of weakness since I pulled her captor away.
It reminds me of myself. That’s not good.
She shakes her head viciously at my question. “No. I’m pissed off. You didn’t do anything to get the guy. You said there’s a process, but you didn’t let anyone know what happened. You gave me a bullshit answer to my question. What the fuck’s going on?”
“Emma, I want to handle this matter personally. I can’t tell you why.”
“I don’t accept that,” she screams, smashing the dashboard with a flat palm.
“There are some things you’re just not ready to hear. This is one of them.”
We only just found our connection to one another. She’s not ready to hear more about me.
“Trust me when I say he’s going to be dealt with and he won’t lay another finger on you.”
Because they’ll be taken as trophies.
“Why are you being so shady?” She turns to stare out the passenger window.
“I’m not the man you think I am. I’m afraid of what you might think if you see the real me.”
Almost poetic. I like that.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she scoffs. Rage-induced tears well in her eyes. I’ve got to end this.
“Emma,” I rest a hand on her leg. I barely touch her skin before she slaps my hand away.
“Don’t you dare,” she waggles a finger so closely to my face I can almost feel it. “You don’t get to play this game. You don’t get to talk in metaphors and think I’m going to just buckle and give in.”
But that’s what I do. I play games. I talk shit and get people on my side.
I use and abuse and take everything for granted.
It might have worked on her father, but he’s simple-minded.
Emma doesn’t share his weakness. Beneath the scared girl, who locks up at times, stands a strong woman ready to conquer.
“I’m going to kill him,” I say the words seriously, allowing no way for them to be misconstrued.
“You’re going to what?“ She turns to me wide-eyed.
“I’m going to kill him for hurting you.” I wanted to tell her about the shadowy path that led me into her life, and how better to do so than with the full truth?
Tonight I sensed that there’s a darkness inside Emma too. One that emerges when she feels powerful. Alone, she was weak and frozen, trembling at the hand of her captor. With me at her side, she was ready to chase after him, and who knows where that would’ve gone?
If I am her light, perhaps she can shed this shell of fear and self-doubt. Maybe I can help her become something better than I ever was.
I hope I’m not making a horrible mistake.
“Emma, I’m the Whitefish Vigilante.”
Stunned by the news, Emma doesn’t say a single word until we reach my apartment, fifteen minutes away from the McAllister residence. Throughout the drive, she stares at the side of my face, shock and awe washed over her delicate features.
I fear she’ll try to run as soon as I stop the car in my residents’ parking spot, but she doesn’t. I give her space by getting out of the car and resting against the side of it. After our evening together, tonight was always going to be hard.
If I’d left and come back home, I’d have had to fight against my demons relating to her. At least they’d have been fought with a bottle of whiskey. It’s different now, with Emma in on my dirty little secret.
Ten minutes go by, and Emma doesn’t move from her position. She’s staring at the wall now, mumbling something to herself. I’ve gone and fucked this up now, haven’t I?
“Do you want to come inside? Talk about this?” I ask, swinging open the driver’s door.
She turns to me, a deer in headlights.
“I can make some cocoa or whatever. We can—”
“You can’t tell me you’re the—” She cuts herself off, but I know she was going to say ‘vigilante’. “—and expect things to be fine.”
She’s not scared, at least not in her tone of voice. That’s a good start.
“I made a vow to be honest to you, tonight, regardless of the subject matter.” The thought of Emma’s assailant makes something violent twist inside me. The fun I’d have had if it were me and him alone.
“Honest,” she says with a sharp exhale. She repeats the word a few more times. “Okay. I’ll come inside.”