Chapter 9
ZANE
I stood there in the dark, watching her inside that fancy restaurant, eating fancy food and drinking fancy wine, having fun with her fancy rich friends.
That’s what she always was, a fancy, rich, kept woman—back when she lived with her wealthy lawyer stepfather and now that she married someone very similar.
I hate everything about her lanky husband. From his slicked-back dark hair, to his oversized teeth that are too white to be natural. I’d love to knock them out. One by one.
I’m here for her. But then I just stood there watching her from the darkness, seething in hate and failing at not thinking what might’ve been for us. It wouldn’t have been fancy dinners, that’s for sure. But it would’ve been something even better. That’s for sure too.
She kept looking out, looking right at me, even though there was no way she could’ve seen me in the dark. But somehow, she knew exactly where I was.
And that opened up a whole new can of shit I didn’t want to think about.
My mission here is simple. Get my answers and my revenge on the woman who took my life from me.
But the woman I found here is not the one I expected to find.
I found the Sienna that loved me. Not the one who told me lies and abandoned me when I needed her the most.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
Then she came out of the restaurant. Wearing nothing but her golden dress, which drapes over her curves like something you only see in beautiful marble statues or old paintings. Gorgeous.
She looked for me in the darkness, her eyes locking right on me. But she couldn’t see me and I watched the disappointment grow and grow on her face.
But I didn’t show myself.
Because I still didn’t know what to do with all these things she makes me feel.
Then her husband came out after her.
Dragged her away from the restaurant windows and pushed her against the wall. It looked like it’s a regular occurrence for them. Pain replaced the disappointment on her face then, but there was no shock at the treatment. She expected it.
And then I knew what I had to do.
What I’d always done.
Protect her.
It didn’t take much strength at all to push him against that same wall, do to him what he’d done to her. He didn’t come at me, just spewed insults and threats like the weak always do. But he didn’t dare put his money where his mouth was, didn’t try to hit me.
And when she told him he should watch out, because I had killed for her before, so many conflicting things flew through my mind that I once again wasn’t sure what I was doing.
But she said it with such pride, gratitude even, and definitely lots of love, that for the first time I didn’t regret what I’d done, like I’d regretted it every day for the past ten years.
Now she’s on the back of my bike, her arms wrapped tight around my waist, her whole body pressed against mine like she’s attached to me and I don’t think I’ve even been happier in these past ten years.
But that’s just my base reaction.
Because she’s still the woman who discarded me as soon as things went wrong.
And now she used me to get back at her husband?
Is that what just happened?
The road we’re riding down is pitch black, the ocean a menacing ever-shifting black presence to our right, a dark hill to our left.
All just black darkness outside the circle my headlight can reach.
That’s what my life has been for the last decade too.
Staying in the shadows, hiding from the normal world, on the run, always in the darkness.
I didn’t know how much I wanted that running to be over until this very moment, with Sienna on the back of my bike, heading back home to LA, the only place I’ve ever been happy.
But is that what’s happening?
Or did I just risk what little freedom I have for her, just so she can take it away from me again?
There’s an observation spot up ahead and I pull into it. Jagged, black rocks on one side, the menacing frothing ocean before us and nothing but blackness all around, especially after I switch off the bike and the headlight goes out.
But even after we’re still, the rumbling of my bike just distant echoes swallowed by the whooshing of the ocean, she’s still holding onto me tight.
“We have to talk, Sienna,” I tell her.
She lets go of me very slowly, climbs off the bike even slower.
Even in the pitch darkness, her copper hair and fresh grass-green eyes seem to glow, creating all the light I’ll ever need. All the light I’ve ever needed.
But I gotta stop thinking like that.
That kind of thinking almost buried me once before.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “For everything.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
“Thank you for saving me tonight,” she goes on. “You didn’t have to, but you did.”
“You needed help. He was beating you and you didn’t stand a chance against him. I couldn’t watch that. I wouldn’t watch that even if you were any other woman.”
When I don’t know what to say, it’d be much better if I stayed quiet. I’d learned that a time or two in my life.
She nods slowly, her eyes swimming with sadness that’s as deep and quiet as a river. “Yes, I understand. But it was me you saved and I’m grateful.”
She shivers as a gust of wind blows at us, making her long, shiny hair dance. I should take off my jacket, give it to her. But I don’t.
She’s used me before. And she’ll use me again. That’s how these things go.
“Where should I take you?” I ask.
Best I leave her behind now, before she makes me do something I can never take back. Like before. Like just now.
“Take me anywhere you’re going,” she says quietly, weakly, like she doesn’t believe I’ll agree to it.
She used to be so strong, so loud, so full of determination. Now she still looks like she used to, but it’s just a shell filled with this broken sadness that is also lacing her voice.
Fragile.
But she always was. Beneath her tough, loud, happy exterior she was a shivering little bird. Tiny and helpless. It’s why I killed the priest who hurt her. Because I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hurting her.
So how can I hurt her?
My head is starting to hurt from all these conflicting thoughts that are rolling around my head in ever-tightening circles. I prefer to not think on the best of days. Drink, ride, fight, but never think.
“Please,” she adds. “I only ever wanted to be with you.”
If she’s lying, she’s the best damn liar I’ve ever met. But I already knew that about her.
Trouble is, I like her lies.
And I don’t like it when she’s away from me.
My head is pounding from all this thinking that’s solving nothing, giving no answers.
“Fine,” I say and climb back on my bike. She slips on it behind me like a breath of warm wind.
This doesn’t mean I forgive her, doesn’t mean I trust her, doesn’t mean I won’t still get my revenge.
It just means I can’t leave her standing in the darkness by the side of an empty road. And she might hold all those answers I’ve been seeking and couldn’t find on my own.