Chapter 29: Angel
I came to with a crick in my neck, a pounding headache, and a throbbing face. I remembered the blow that knocked me out. I remembered the second blow that took me out the second time. I just didn’t know who kept on hitting me.
His back was to me as he drove, and when I tried to move, he sat up in the seat and peered at me in the rearview mirror. “Stay down,” he bit out harshly.
“Who are you?” I asked as I touched my cheek.Ow. That hurt badly. What the hell had he hit me with?
“Don’t matter who I am, all that matters is what I’m owed.”
Owed? He wasn’t a player. He wasn’t Will. He was too old to be Ronnie.
“I don’t owe you anything,” I told him as I struggled to sit up and the world swam.
“Lay down, your head’s cracked open.”
My fingers probed at my head, and I felt something sticky coating it. “Why do you keep hitting me?”
“You’ll be fine,” he said as he made a turn. “Lay back.”
“No.” Struggling against the nausea, I sat up and looked around. I was still in Nashville, but we looked to be heading south. “Who are you?” I asked him as I tried to move so I could see him.
“Name’s Burt,” he said gruffly. “You took my boy.”
“Will?”
When Ronnie Christie had told me Will Hershman had him, I had run out of the house like it was on fire. I knew that if Onyx got to Ronnie first, he’d make a terrible mistake. I needed to get to Ronnie, and I didn’t trust Onyx to listen to me.
“He’s helping me.”
“Helping you do what? Burt? I don’t know you or your boy.”
He turned then to look at me, and I saw the likeness — dead in the eyes, which were the same light brown and held the same intensity, as if they were indeed owed something.
“You’re Judd’s father,” I realized as I sat back.
“And you’re the bitch that killed him.”
He made a sudden stop, and I jerked forward, which was too much for my poor body to handle as I threw up in the back seat. I heard him cursing, and then I was being pulled out of the car by my hair, and I struggled as he dragged me. He knocked me to my knees, and my stomach protested once again as I emptied the contents.
“Stop it,” he snarled, and he kicked me in the side, knocking me over, as my body twisted in on itself, still trying to vomit.
My hair was in the small puddle of bile. On my hands and knees, I tried to push myself up, but my head was spinning, and I couldn’t focus on which way was up. I felt another sharp kick and landed flat on my face.
“Get up!” he ordered. “Stupid bitch, lying on the ground, get up.”
“Stop hitting me,” I slurred as I tried to move. “I can’t get up if you keep,” my body convulsed as it retched again, “if you keep hitting me.”
A strong hand grabbed my hair, and I screamed at the tearing pain. I was dragged by my hair to my feet. Burt Christie brought his face close to mine. “Will said you were a stuck-up bitch. He said he couldn’t wait to fuck it out of you, loosen you up.” Burt drew his head back and spat on me. “That’s what I think of you, bitch. You killed my boy. Now give me his money.”
Nothing made sense. My face was on fire, my head was mush, and I felt like I was floating. Consciousness was coming in and out.
“I didn’t.” There was another piercing pain, and then blackness took me.
When I came to, I heard voices, voices that I knew.
“Onyx?” I groaned.
“I’m here, I’m here,” he soothed. His hands gently touched my face. “Help’s coming.”
