9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
‘Lias
Pissed off is the understatement of the year.
When I answered her call from jail, I cycled through every damn emotion you can imagine: terror, approval, concern, anxiety, you name it.
The unfortunate part is I always circled back to anger.
There’s nothing quite like getting that call in the middle of work and having to drop everything because you know what sort of violence your woman is capable of.
I know she can’t help it, that she’s medicated and doing everything she can to ensure she doesn’t end up in some black hole, but dammit, she knows better. Even those insane voices inside of her head, the ones who make her do off-the-wall shit, know better.
All of my life, I’ve been one of those men who maintain their composure in stressful situations.
One you want on your side in the middle of a shit storm, because my head is always on straight when all hell breaks loose and you look to the calmest person for leadership.
I’m not an angry man, either. I’ve never put my hands on a woman or hurt someone that didn’t deserve it, or wasn’t ordered to put a bullet into.
This, though? Every bit of collectiveness I’ve had for fifty-something years has dissipated.
I could strangle her, pepper her ass with so many swats every inch welts, punish her for the stupid thing she’s done but I can’t—I won’t.
Why? It’s not her fault. Call me an enabler if you want, but doing that to her won’t change the outcome.
It has to come from within; she has to drown those insufferable voices in her pretty head and establish dominance on her own.
How's she going to do that? I don’t know, but we’ll talk about it as soon as we get to her apartment and she gets the blood out of her hair.
My heart stopped inside the interrogation room.
Seeing her cuffed to the table like an animal and splattered with someone else’s crimson did something to me.
I don’t know if it made me more protective, annoyed, or turned on, but she definitely seemed proud of herself.
I hate to remind myself but the look she gave me was the same one her uncle gave Kace and Nadia.
Sadie’s not him, she’s nothing like the fucker Kace and I handed over on a silver platter—she just doesn’t realize it.
And that’s why I work so hard—endlessly actually—to keep her off of the damn radar, but that punk ass voice in her head has fucked it all up.
Someone will be looking for her; they will come knocking for interviews and probe her for information on the incident. And fuck if that doesn’t terrify me.
If I could have gotten her out of jail faster, I would’ve.
I’d have teleported her to the parking lot instead of dragging her as she smiled and swayed gleefully behind me.
In this headspace, she doesn’t get the severity of what she's done, but what the hell can I do to make her understand other than be mad?
At least the last time this happened, it was aimed at me and not some bully.
She had more pent-up rage this time; rather than acting on protective instinct, she was aggressive in defense of herself.
Who am I kidding, this wasn’t defense. She snapped and beat the shit out of that girl with zero remorse.
Outside, the sun beams down on her as if God is proud of her accomplishments.
She even tilts her face up to the sky, bathing in the yellow rays like her damn cat Bruce—they’re two peas in a fucking pod.
Always getting into shit and trying to look angelic afterward.
I’m not buying it though, not this time.
Once she’s seated inside the truck, I slam the door, causing it to shake before rounding the front of the Denali. I can’t look at her—I want to simultaneously kiss her and tie her to the bed so she can’t do a damn thing but beg for forgiveness.
Maybe that’s where we'll start.
Climbing into the driver side, I give her a once over to check for her seatbelt.
Satisfied, I strap myself in and crank the truck.
Music immediately pours from the speakers, but I turn it off.
If I have to live uncomfortably while racing to get her out of jail, Sadie can sit in silence.
I need to gather my thoughts and come down from my Everest high mountain of frustration.
As luck would have it, we get caught in stop and go traffic between the police department and her castle in the sky.
We’ve been here for twenty minutes, listening to horns blare as people ache to get home for the evening.
Her energy is roasting my right side, practically burning through the oxygen around her as if it’s a non-renewable resource.
There’s a saying, curiosity killed the cat, and I’m about to get dead—I have questions and I know she has the answer.
“Who’s driving right now?”
I don’t have to look at Sadie to know she’s facing me, she moves in silence only to explode with violence.
“You are.”
“Not asking about me. Who’s in your driver seat?”
The grin in my peripherals sets me on the edge, target acquired.
“All of us.”
“Kate, Liz, Sadie…Naamah too?”
“Nahhhhhh, not her.”
“Alright.” I ease off the break as traffic moves, the roll gives me time to prepare for whatever comes out of her mouth next.
“Do you understand what you did today? The person you hurt, and what might happen?”
She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest, leaning against the door still facing me.
“Of course I know. You going to ask me a hundred questions and hand the answers over to that cop? That’s what you do, right, help police? Look at the details as if they’re black and white, not a scale of grey?”
“Some behavior has no grey area, Sadie. You know that. What you did is one of them.”
“Don’t recall self-defense being black and white.” She eggs me on—this isn’t Sadie. This is Liz.
“Attacking someone because their words hurt isn’t a matter of self-defense unless they threaten to physically hurt you and attempt to do so, Liz.”
“Oooooh, you got me. Smart man—slow, but smart.”
“Comes with age. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you.
” Not a question, a goading statement. There’s a lot I don’t know about the entities in Sadie’s head, but she’s made mentions here or there.
Kate’s violent, Liz antagonizes, and Naamah lingers.
Do I know more than that, not at all. Maybe now’s the time I learn everything there is about my Spawn.
She’s chuckling from her side, drawing her feet up in the seat and getting her dirty shoes on the upholstery. That’s Sadie behavior though she’s still smirking at me with a silent dare.
“What happened today? Why did you beat that girl's face in?”
“She deserved it. Why else?”
Lovely.
“We don’t handle ‘she deserved it’ by violently assaulting someone, Liz.
Have some damn tact.” My annoyance is getting the better of me.
Everything about this woman, these women, poke and prod my patience; hell, even Sadie, but at least I fucking like her.
The other three are welcome to abandon ship at any moment; sooner rather than later.
“We handle it in whatever means necessary, Jarhead. Kate’s way isn’t always the soundest but it’s highly effective.”
“Right, Kate. We blame all violence on her. Why is that? Who is Kate, who the hell are you—really?”
The traffic lurches forward, forcing me to ease off the break again so we can creep along—emergency lights finally appearing ahead, directing traffic out of two other lanes into ours.
She doesn’t answer immediately and it rubs me the wrong way. I'm too wound up, worried about Sadie, to deal with this being’s petulant bullshit.
When we come to another stop, I throw the truck in park and reach for her. My fist winds in the front of her hoodie before I yank her over the center console bringing our noses millimeters apart, my unafraid stare meeting hers.
“I asked you a question. Answer it. Would be a bad day if I ended up torturing you instead of the one causing all of the problems.”
Holding her hostage, she tilts, grazing her lips against mine, purring her damn taunt. I don’t know whether to finish the distance and remind this thing who Sadie belongs to, or choke her the fuck out.
“Kate—“ she begins, sliding her tongue across Sadie’s bottom lip. “Some deranged witch from the colonial days. No one important. Me, well, I come from status. Many servant girls helped me stay young and beautiful. Look at me now, inside this delicious thing you want to devour just as much as I do.”
“You sound like a parasite. A noble woman, then.”
Her pupils dilate before her eyes sharpen on me. “Watch your mouth!” Venom drips from those three little words.
“There it is.” It’s my turn to tease her. “I like ‘em feisty; what else you have in there, Liz? Going to banish me to the village, teach me a lesson by ordering me to the stocks?”
“You peasant, I’d have your head removed from your body!
” Sadie’s body bucks at me, strong and angry, but I’m bigger, faster.
Displaced by how I have her pulled over the console, I jolt her then drag her further into my lap.
Pinning her between me and the steering wheel at her back.
I have to dodge when her hands start swinging, unorganized and frantic—missing the calculated violence I’m better prepared for.
She struggles for control but I quickly pin them to her belly, trapping her wrists in one of my larger, more rugged grabs.
She pulls and kicks, thrashing around like it will get her out of captivity.
“For a noble woman, you sure are weak!”
“Stop!! STOP.”
I release her without hesitation because that scream isn’t Liz. The thing beating in my chest breaks when sorrow twists in her face. The Marine sees manipulation, but the damn softy I hide under layers of chest plates and Kevlar surrenders.
“Easy, killer. Easy.”