Chapter Four
Sully
I’d lost count of how many nights I’d sat in this same corner of Throttle, nursing the same brand of whiskey, waiting for a ghost. Knight was frustrated and getting angrier by the day because he’d found zilch on Darby.
Something in me couldn’t let go of the possibility that she might walk through that door again, and it bothered me I couldn’t let her memory go.
The rational part of my brain told me I was wasting my time, but rationality had taken a back seat weeks ago when it came to Darby.
So I sat, I waited, and I drank just enough to keep the hope from turning bitter.
Also, I was rapidly headed toward shit-faced drunk.
“Why don’t you lay off the Jack for a while, man?” Knight muttered as he continued to stare at his computer screen. I have no idea what he was doing, but the man had become almost as obsessed as I had with finding Darby. He didn’t like to be bested.
“Why don’t you bite me?”
Knight shook his head. “Nah. Might get rabies from your skank hide.”
I shook my head as I downed my last shot. Knight was right. If I quit now, I might be sober enough to not puke when Knight took me home. “I’d argue but I really can’t.”
Mike snorted. He was a good guy. Able to diffuse situations getting out of hand, as well as knowing how and when to take a brother’s keys when he’d had too much.
He also didn’t give me shit about why I was here.
I kinda got the feeling he was as enamored with Darby as I was, but more for the thrill.
I wanted to hate the guy, but I just couldn’t.
“Lay off an hour, then I’ll give you a joint.
You’ll stay mellow without being shit-faced. ”
“Not sure that’s a good idea either.” Knight still didn’t look up from his laptop. Just took another pull of coffee and kept doing whatever he was doing. “Sometimes alcohol and pot don’t fuckin’ mix.”
“I know what I can handle, Knight.” I wanted to be annoyed, but I really couldn’t. Knight loved to argue and have a running commentary of snark. It helped him concentrate or something.
“Uh-huh.”
There were a couple moments of silence while Mike rubbed down the bar. “You know,” Mike said, “I once ate a whole rainbow bar.”
“What’s a rainbow bar?” I knew what a rainbow bar was, but I also knew whatever came out of Mike’s mouth was going to be a hoot and I was willing to look like an idiot to further the cause.
“You know. Like a Rice Crispy bar made of Fruity Pebbles. Infused with pot.” Mike grinned.
“Yeah? How much is in one of those things?”
Mike shrugged. “Enough that, an hour later, I became a born-again Christian.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Well, as long as you didn’t join the Southern Bible Thumpers Church of the Holy Serpent, I’m okay with that.”
Mike tilted his head. “I mean, there might have been a serpent…” He shook his head slightly. “Coulda been a tentacle, though.”
I sat up straighter. “Wait. Lemmie guess. First Self-Righteous Church of Pascagoula?”
Mike nodded, his eyes going wide. “Yep. Goddamned squirrel went berserk.”
“That’s it! Heard everyone learned way more about Sister Bertha’s love life than was decent.” There was a pause. “Heard she actually started namin’ names.”
We were trying to get to Knight, to pull him out of this funk because, honestly, the man truly hated to be gotten the better of.
I didn’t think he was going to bite, but then he shrugged.
“Ironically, the actual name of that church -- it’s more or less a kinda true story -- was First Baptist Church of Poplarville. ”
Mike glanced at me, then back to Knight, who was still busily clicking away on his laptop never even having looked up. When Mike looked back at me, I shook my head at the other man. “I got nothin’, man.”
Mike broke first, but I wasn’t far behind. We both laughed so hard we had to wipe tears from our eyes. Knight merely snorted, giving a little half smile as he continued to work.
“You look like shit warmed over.” Mike slid me a tall glass of ice water. Because Knight was right.
I grunted. “Gee, thanks, man.”
“Just saying.” Mike wiped down the bar again after picking up empty glasses left by patrons next to us. “You know she ain’t coming back, right? Think I tried to tell you she was trouble from the beginning.”
“Yep.” I grinned. “She definitely was that.”
I picked up my water to take a healthy pull when the door opened…
Darby pushed through the door, and the air left my lungs in a rush.
Her dark hair was loose around her face, partially obscuring her features, but I’d have recognized her anywhere.
The way she moved, that predator’s grace that had caught my attention the first time I saw her, was unmistakable even as she favored her right side slightly.
She made her way to the bar. When she brushed against someone and her smile faltered and I saw an unmistakable wince. When she reached up to brush her hair off her cheek…
My breath caught. A darkening bruise along her left cheekbone and a split in her lower lip marred her beautiful features. My blood turned to ice, then fire. Someone had hurt her. Someone had put their hands on her, on her face. The thought made my vision blur at the edges with rage.
I was on my feet before I made a conscious decision to move, crossing to the other side of the bar in long strides that ate up the distance between us.
She didn’t notice me at first, too focused on ordering her drink from the female bartender working this end of the bar.
Darby’s knuckles were bruised and torn, as she gripped the edge of the bar, I saw one was still bleeding.
Whatever had happened, she’d fought back. Good.
“What the hell happened to you?” The words came out harsher than I intended, rough with weeks of worry and the sudden shock of seeing her injured.
Darby’s head snapped up, eyes widening with genuine surprise and fear before she schooled her features into that familiar smirk. But not before I caught something else there. Relief, maybe? Whatever expression tried to give her away was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
“Nothing you need to worry about, big guy,” she said, but her fingers trembled slightly around the glass Mike slid in front of her without being asked. A double shot of Jack. He’d remembered her order too. Something I’d have to deal with later, but my jealousy wasn’t important right now.
“Bullshit,” I said, moving closer until I stood directly beside her. “Who did this to you?”
“Didn’t know I owed you an explanation.” She tossed back her drink in one go, wincing slightly as the alcohol hit her split lip. “Don’t remember signing any paperwork making you my keeper.”
I took a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger. Not at her. Never at her. But whoever had marked her face was a fucking dead man. “Someone put their hands on you, and I’d like very much to return the favor.”
Something flickered in her eyes. Surprise again, and something softer that she quickly buried. “You been waiting here for me, Sully? Night after night like some lovesick teenager?” Her voice was teasing, but the question held real curiosity.
“Yeah. I have.” No point in lying. She’d see through it anyway.
Mike snorted as he passed, setting down another glass for me.
“Every fucking night for weeks,” he confirmed, giving me a look that said I was either the most pathetic or the most determined man he’d ever seen.
Maybe both. Either way, at least I knew I wasn’t going to have to fight the man for Darby.
“On the house,” he added, nodding at my fresh drink before moving away to give us privacy.
For a man who’d basically cut me off, he’d reversed himself.
Though he was probably right. I might need something to dull the fury trying to engulf me.
Darby stared at me for a long moment, something complicated happening behind those sharp eyes. “Why?” she finally asked, her voice quieter than I’d ever heard it.
“You know why.” I took a sip of my whiskey, letting the burn ground me. “Not just about that night, though that was the best fuckin’ night of my life. It’s about you. The way you looked at me the last time. Right before we slept. Like maybe you wanted me to make you want to stay.”
She looked away, her fingers around the glass Mike sat in front of her. “You read too much into things.”
“Do I?” I reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and turned her face gently toward the light.
The bruise was worse up close, a violent purplish-red spreading across her cheekbone.
My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack.
“This happen because you ran, or because you stopped running?”
Her eyes met mine, defiant but with something vulnerable lurking beneath. “Both? Neither?” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her voice had a slight tremor to it I was sure she wanted to hide. “Life’s complicated.”
“So uncomplicate it. Talk to me.”
She laughed, a bitter sound that held no humor. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. And ain’t that a Goddamned cheesy-ass line.”
“Try me.” I let my hand drop from her face but stayed close enough that our shoulders nearly touched. “Prison time means I get it.”
“You think a few years inside makes you an expert on the real monsters out there?”
“No. But it taught me how to spot someone who’s running scared.” I kept my voice low, just for her ears. “And whatever tough act you’re putting on right now, you’re scared. I can see it.”
She tensed beside me, her knuckles whitening around her glass. For a moment, I thought she might bolt, or worse, shut down completely. Instead, she drained her whiskey and set the glass down with deliberate care.
“Maybe I am,” she admitted, so quietly I almost missed it over the music. “Doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything. Because I’m willing to go through this with you. I’ll take care of whatever you’re up against.”