20
Austin
“You don’t look pleased,”Emaline says as she opens her door and steps outside on the front step of her house, wrapped warmly in an old coat, knitted scarf tied around her frail neck, and hands pink from the cold. It’s my turn to be her protective bodyguard, take her to uni, and escort her to class before I head to the bone gallery.
“I have no say in this. The decision was made without my consent,” I grumble, then notice the hurt wash across her face and realize I’ve done it again. Every time I’m around her, I hurt her. Sometimes it’s intentional; sometimes, I say shit without thinking and still hurt her.
Her feet freeze, and I turn back to look at her. “Go then,” she insists, flicking her hand at me. “Go without me. I can manage on my own.”
“I can’t take that risk, and I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “My brothers will kill me if something happens to you, so let’s just say I’m here by force.”
She appears annoyed by my comment, so my plan has worked. Keeping her at a distance while tugging on the invisible cord that’s tied between us is what keeps me alive. That cord that brings us closer together at a painfully slow speed, eventually, she’ll cave and resign to me fucking her on the Butcher’s Block to pay her family’s debt.
I find it ridiculously easy to compartmentalize my feelings for a good reason and park my attraction to her aside to focus on my objective. Yeah, I know I have weaknesses, and I showed that weakness yesterday in the hospital when I panicked because I couldn’t find her. But after spending some time alone releasing stress and tension on the bike track, I’m back to normal now. My mood is set to cold.
“I’d rather not ride on the back of the motorbike, so I’ll take my van, thank you,” she states, unlocking the driver’s door.
I noticed her grandparents’ car isn’t here, which means she’s alone, so I’m free to be a total fuckwit to her. Why? Because I can. “Nope,” I hit, kicking the door of her van shut and holding up the spare helmet in my hand. “My orders are to come here and take you to class, so I’m doing that.”
“Who cares about your stupid orders,” she angers, glancing past me to the sedan parked on the side of the road. Gainor is on duty, which is good. “Let me go.”
Ignoring her protests, “Here,” I state, handing her the helmet, “Put that on.”
“You’ve made it clear a hundred times that you don’t care, so please leave, and I’ll drive to class in my van. I have work later, so this,” pointing her finger at my bike, “arrangement will not work.”
“I’ll take you to work as well. Maybe I’ll grab a burger, too,” I say calmly. Let me know what time, and I’ll do it.”
She swallows nervously. “Don’t you have class and work in the gallery? Surely, you can’t drop what you’re doing to take me to work when I can take myself.”
“Yeah, I have work, but Griz is easygoing and class…well, who gives a fuck,” I confess. I don’t attend class often anymore, and my parents are squealing. They can’t expect all three of their sons to turn out how they want and pursue the career paths that they wish. Aaron is right, though. I must put them out of their misery and update them with my job offer at the gallery. I’m reluctant to do that because my dad won’t be pleased and will probably write it off as a phase, whereas the idea will entertain Mom.
“Oh, is that how we rebel when trying to act tough,” she states sarcastically. “Very mature.”
“Thanks,” I answer.
“I was being sarcastic,” she argues, looking so damn cute.
“I know. Didn’t think you had it in ya,” I admit.
“Huh,” she grunts, pushing her glasses back, opening the door to her van again, and climbing inside. “Goodbye.”
I grab her bag, slung over her shoulder, and pull her back out. “Not so fast.” I’m being serious now. “I can’t risk you going on your own.”
“I’ll be fine,” she wrestles her bag off me.
“Emaline, I don’t think you have any idea who the Viche family is,” I say solemnly, and she stops in her tracks.
“Yes, I do. They own strip clubs, casinos, and other dubious undertakings,” she replies, showing her ignorance.
“Yeah, that’s true, but they are also fairly dangerous and wouldn’t hesitate to,” I stand over her and lift her chin, forcing her to look at me. I chop that pretty head off and place it on their mantle as a trophy.”
I can tell that she thinks I’m exaggerating when the exact opposite is true. Chopping heads off doesn’t come close to the cruelty the Viche family will inflict on anyone who gets in their way. Xave getting into a fight with two of them is a significant concern, and he’s likely got a target on his back. I hate to think what they’re planning there. Anyway, at least two more have been arrested after we ran down the men in the van that kidnapped Brielle. One is dead, which, as far as I’m concerned, is the best solution to dealing with the Viches is to eliminate the entire family. They have many tentacles infiltrating several territories, all leading back to one man, Leonardo Viche. Eliminate him, and half the job will be done. Eliminate Leonardo Viche and all his righthand men; the job is completely done.
“I’ll be fine,” she stresses unconvincingly since fear is written all over her face.
“Em, get on the damn bike,” I warn gravely. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”
She looks tired and stressed, yet I’d like to make her smile but remind myself that being distant and cold suits me better. “Fine,” she resigns, taking my helmet. “I hope they’re paying you well.”
“Believe it or not, I’m doing this for free,” I told her, and she flinched. “The problem is that your van stands out like a light in the dark. You know they’ve already cased the joint and put spies on your house and family business, so even if it isn’t obvious, they will likely follow you.”
I grab her bag, and she takes her glasses off to put on her helmet and slides them into her coat pocket. I shut the van door, check it’s locked, and then guide her onto my bike.
“You’ll have to hold on to me,” I command, “or else you’ll fall off.”
Those arms wrap precariously around my waist as I can feel her wriggle in close, pressing her chest against my back and pussy just behind my ass. No matter how much I lie about my feelings about Emaline Applegate, I enjoy this. I like her holding on to me, the scent of her hair, and my body being the crutch that stops her from falling.
Weaving through the traffic, I can feel her holding on tighter as her breath becomes rapid, indicating she’s afraid. “First time on a bike?” I ask loudly through my helmet.
“Yeah,” she answers, digging the tips of her fingers into my abdomen as I relish her touch.
There’s an urge in me to ruin this moment by doing something stupid like riding dangerously fast and recklessly, so she freaks out and starts crying, but I don’t. I remain in control, treating my passenger as fragile and priceless, so she gets to uni in one piece and hates me a little less.
Once out onto the open road that leads from the town to the uni, I increase my speed a little, but not as much as if it was me on my own. All the while, I subtly search for pursuing cars or anyone that seems suspicious. It’s not a matter of if the Viche’s turn up. It’s when. I hope Emaline isn’t around when it happens.
I find a park close to the admin buildings in the main parking lot and turn the engine off. “You alright?” I ask her as I take my helmet off, as she seems stuck to my back, unable to move.
“Um, yes, I’m just as little frozen,” she gasps, wrestling with the helmet. Carefully, I climb off the bike before her and then help her take the helmet off. Reaching into her coat pocket, I make her recoil as if she thought I would do something naughty, but I intend to grab her glasses.
“Yeah, it can get cold, especially on the open road. So, ah, we need to exchange numbers,” I squirm a little as I say it because I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. Even though it’s the right idea, I refuse to admit it. “So, you can message me when it’s time to take you to work.”
“Eleven thirty,” she proclaims swiftly. “My shift starts at eleven thirty.”
It looks like she doesn’t want to give me her number. “How long is the shift?”
“Until five, and then the evening crew come on,” she explains.
“Okay, we’ll meet at eleven here,” patting the padded bike seat with my hand, “and I’ll take you back into town.”
“Thank you,” she says shyly, licking her bottom lip, then stalls before departing. “We probably exchange numbers just in case one of us gets waylaid.”
“Sure,” I agree, taking my phone from my jacket pocket as she finds her in her full bag.
Hair gets caught in her mouth, and she shyly brushes it away, and I can’t look away. I agree with my brothers…there is something about her that’s utterly intriguing and endearing. She’s sweet and kind but also odd and quirky, which I like.
“I’ll need to go to the hospital later, too, so my sister can finish her story. The hospital staff will be moving her to a ward soon and unhooking her from the machine,” she says. I suspect she’s not telling me this to inform me but to make small talk. For some people, small talk is better than silence at awkward moments, but I always thought Emaline preferred silence.
“Good,” I say just to respond. For Em’s sake, I’ll pretend I care about her sister, even though it doesn’t affect me. If it were Em lying in that hospital bed strung up on drugs keeping her alive, I’d have a different feeling about it.“So, let me walk you to your class, and message me if you notice any strange behavior.”
Her smile is so sweet that it could make a serial killer go straight. “Um, in the English and Art block.”
“Sure, led the way,” I encourage, and she steps in front of me and glances back after a few steps, and I’m glad she didn’t catch me looking at her ass. Instead, I followed the lines of her shape, from her flowing brown hair along the shoulders and down to her waist. There’s not much of her, but that bite-size serving has plenty of flavor.
I fall behind to watch how she interacts with other students and notice that she keeps her head low, avoiding eye contact, not that anyone sees her. It’s as if she’s invisible to them. Even when they physically bump into her, they don’t apologize, as if she isn’t worth the effort.
On the one hand, I like her being our best-kept secret, but on the other hand, my heart melts at the reality of what being Emaline Applegate is like. They dismiss and ignore her as being someone, at face value, that is worth little to them. She holds no social status and wears drab, secondhand clothes, demonstrating that she has no money. At first glance, she’s plain in features until you allow your gaze to linger. She is likely overlooked for scholarships or opportunities, even if she’s the brightest and hardest working student in the class, and I bet her tutors and classmates don’t notice when she’s not there. Emaline Applegate is a middle-of-the-road spectator of life, a flower bud struggling to bloom in a world without light.
If we judge people based on their character instead of their looks, we’d be better people with more prosperous lives. But what the fuck would I know.
By the time we arrive at her classroom, I’m defeated by the inadvertent malice on display and long to cradle her in my arms to shelter her from the storm of cruelty of human nature. Or shout from the rooftops, “Here she is. Look at her. See her.”
Instead, I mumble a goodbye to her, turn my back, and walk away.