Chapter Twenty-One
Kip
Hawk gets to her first, and I’m not far behind.
“Stupid animal,” I mutter. Hawk is helping her sit up. My stomach sinks as soon as I see her face.
Hawk is kneeling in front of her, asking her questions.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She’s trying to stand up.
“Easy there.” Hawk tries to keep her in place. “Don’t need you falling again and smacking your face a second time.”
Hawk looks up at me, and then he says, “I’ll get some ice and a washcloth.”
I rush to take his place beside her and cup her face in my hands. “Oh Ginger.”
“I’m okay,” she nearly yells this time. To her credit, I’ve seen grown men cry over lesser injuries.
“That’s quite a shiner.” I lean in to examine her eye. Her lip is busted too.
“You should see the other guy,” she mutters.
We both look over at Blue who is just thumping his tail on the ground and watching our every move with excitement.
“He doesn’t even feel any remorse.”
Hawk returns with a washcloth. She holds it over her mouth, and I gently place a bag of peas on her eye.
“You think she needs to see Paul?” Hawk asks as I help her to her feet.
“I don’t think so,” I say, looping my arm around her waist and leading her over to a chair.
“It’s just a black eye and a busted lip.”
She pulls the washcloth away from her mouth, examines it, and then returns it to her lip.
She mutters, “I’m not normally this accident prone.”
Hawk and I exchange glances, and then he says, “Well, I came to get a statement from you, but I guess I’ll come back.”
She nods. He doesn’t move, and then he continues, “I want you to know that creep is wanted in four states. He’s a registered sex offender with outstanding warrants. He’s not getting out of jail anytime soon or maybe ever.”
She rubs her forehead, “That’s good. Do you even need my statement then?”
Hawk’s eyebrow arches. “We should document...”
I cut him off. “Let’s discuss this later. I don’t think now is the time.”
Hawk just nods. “Okay.”
He doesn’t move. I’m not sure what he’s waiting for now, but then I remember our phone conversation.
“I’ll walk you out.” I meet eyes with Hawk. He nods. When we get out of her earshot, I whisper, “Any news?”
“The crew is just getting out there now.”
I nod. “Okay. Keep me posted.”
I watch him leave, and then I go into the kitchen and grab some water and ibuprofen. When I walk out to the patio, I see Blue curled up at her feet.
“Blue, you have some explaining to do.” I sit down beside her. He just continues thumping his tail on the ground.
“I should have been paying better attention,” she says.
“Bullshit. He should have been paying better attention.”
She laughs and leans her head on my shoulder. “I’m really not normally accident prone at all. I swear.”
“I’m having a hard time believing that, Ginger.”
“It’s true, really.”
“Okay, if you say so, but if you were just trying to avoid Hawk, we could have come up with some other excuse that didn’t involve you smashing your face on the table.”
She laughs. My arm is around her shoulder; she’s leaning into me.
This feels right, and I hate it. I don’t hate it, actually.
That’s the problem. She feels so good. I haven’t enjoyed being around someone like this in years, but everything I know about her is a lie.
I push it all aside. It doesn’t matter in this moment.
“Want to watch a movie with me?” I ask. She moves the peas away from her eye, so she can see me better.
“I don’t want to keep you from work,” she says.
“You aren’t.”
“I am.”
“Well, I don’t care.” I pull my arm back and stand up, and then I extend my hand and help her up.
“In that case, I’d love to.”
We spend the afternoon on the couch watching movies and eating popcorn. She curls up next to me. I hate that she’s hurt, but I could stay like this forever. There’s nothing overtly sexual going on, and yet everything feels overtly sexual somehow.
I pull together some leftovers for dinner. “Wanna eat outside. I’ll start a fire.”
“That sounds lovely.”
I light the torches and turn on the dangling lights and lanterns.
“Woah.” Her mouth falls open as she walks outside. She slowly spins around, taking it all in. “I hadn’t seen it all lit up yet. It’s stunning.”
“It really is. I haven’t lit this up since Mom died.”
“How long ago was that?” She sits down across from me.
“Three years.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, softly.
“She loved it out here.” I sigh as I look around. I haven’t wanted to be out here in years.
“I do too,” she replies.
We start eating without another word, and then she pauses. “Why don’t you get along with Hawk?”
I set my fork down considering how to answer this. “Why are your brothers so possessive?” I counter.
She gives me a tight smile.
“I guess it’s only fair if I won’t tell you about me.”
“So what are we allowed to talk about?” I lean back in my chair and watch the light from the fire dance across her face. “Politics?”
“Oh god, no.” She twists her face up. I laugh.
“You don’t want to share your thoughts about the next election?”
She groans. “I get enough of that at home.”
I give her a sidelong look, and she just inhales steadily. I decide to drop it.
“What about religion?” I ask.
She wrinkles her nose.
“Music, movies - we tried to talk about books.”
She laughs.
“It didn’t go great, did it?” I say.
“No. Well, I did like that Graham Greene book a lot, so maybe it wasn’t all bad.”
“Yeah, that’s a great book. One of my favorites.”
“Do you like sad music?” She leans her arms on the table, craning to be closer to me.
“Sad music?” I ask.
“Yeah. I read once that listening to sad songs makes you feel happier, and I can’t decide if I think that’s true or not.”
I cock my head to the side and consider this.
“I think it might.”
“I think it might too.”
Her mouth pulls up just slightly on one side, and then she resumes eating without another word.
I clean up from dinner and insist that she sit by the fire without helping. The bruise around her eye has darkened. It’s angry and swollen. She’s going to be sporting that shiner for a while.
“Stop staring at my injuries. You’re making me self-conscious.”
“I can’t help it.” I shake my head. “I just want to fix it.”
She smiles at me, but her eyes look sad. She stands up abruptly. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be back soon.”
I lean back in my chair. It’s dark now other than the light from the fire and the twinkling lights.
She’s only been gone less than a minute, but I miss her already.
Fuck me. This is not going to end well. I hear something rustle in the bushes nearby.
Blue pops his head up and bounds that direction. He disappears into the darkness.
“Blue?”
I’m wondering if he’s stumbled on a raccoon or, worse, a bear. I stand up and walk in that direction. Before I can step into the darkness, a bright spotlight shines right in my face.
What the hell?
I wince and hold my hands up to block the lights. I hear footsteps and shuffling and yelling. I'm so disoriented by the light.
“Hands up. Don’t move, or we’ll shoot.”
The fuck?
My eyes finally focus, and I see what looks like half of the Army pointing guns directly at me. I immediately raise my hands in the air. My brain cannot even begin to process what’s happening. I’m wondering if I’m dreaming or hallucinating. This cannot possibly be real.
Before I can speak or think or move, there are hands on me - strong ones. Pushing me up against the wall. They push me so hard it knocks the wind out of me.
Nope. Not a dream. This is definitely happening.
Four men start to come into focus. They are angry. No, this is an understatement; they look like they are about to murder me with their bare hands. I cut my eyes to the one with his forearm pressed against my neck, pinning me into place.
This can’t be possible.
I must have blacked out. I must be hallucinating.
I blink a few times. Sure enough, the President of the United States has me in a choke hold, and it looks like he’s about to tear me limb from limb.
“Where the hell is she?” he growls and presses his arm further into my neck.
Who? What is he talking about? I don’t think I could answer even if I wanted to; he’s basically cut off my air supply.
“We know she’s here.” Another one of them yells.
“Where is Brooklyn? We know she came here.” The President is right in my face.
Brooklyn?
I’m trying to work this out. With the light and the guns and the choking, nothing is making sense.
“Brooklyn?” I finally say out loud.
“Yes, Brooklyn. What the fuck did you do with her? If you hurt her, I will personally murder you, and it will be a slow and painful death.”
At that moment, the patio door opens, and she steps out. “James, what are you doing?”
He relaxes his grip on me just slightly.
“Brooklyn?” I say. I’m still not sure what I’m watching.
The President’s eyes flash to me, confused, but then he looks back at her.
“I told you not to track me,” she yells. “You need to let him go.”
He moves his arms back slightly, and I can finally fill my lungs with air.
Just as I’m gasping for breath, she steps into the light.
When the light hits her, my stomach sinks.
There’s a collective gasp as her face comes into focus - bruised, swollen, bloody.
As soon as the President sees her face, he’s right back where he was before - only he’s really crushing my throat now.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” he growls.
“So you like beating up women, huh? Why don’t we show you what that feels like?” one of the other ones says.
“Stop,” she yells, running over. She’s pulling on the President’s arm. “James, let him go.”
The President is still looking at me. “What the fuck happened to her face?”
“She tripped.” Fuck, that sounds so bad coming out of my mouth. His eyes light up, and his whole body weight leans into me.
Of all the ways I thought I might die, being suffocated by the President was not one of them.
“The fuck she did,” he yells.