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26
River
Gage and Knoxfall into a discussion about what will happen if the cartel members decide they want revenge for their dead friends, and Priest just stands there several feet away from me, anger radiating off him. Ash gets sucked into the conversation about the cartel, although he glances over at me with something almost like concern in his eyes.
I let them all have at it, helping myself to some food when my body reminds me that I barely had breakfast and spent the late morning and early afternoon going from planning mode to adrenaline mode in quick succession.
I bolt down a sandwich and an apple, then get up and leave the kitchen.
They’re all watching me, but I don’t have anything to say to them. I told the story and listened to them talk about the possible fallout. I’m fucking sore and tired, and the last thing I want to do is go over the play-by-play of my goddamn failure with them again.
So I hobble my way upstairs to my room, wincing a little as I take the steps on my tender ankle.
It’s late afternoon now, going on early evening, and I feel like every hour of the day since I left the house this morning is weighing on me.
I strip out of my sweaty, dirty clothes and leave them in a pile on the bathroom floor before getting in the shower.
My body aches, and I feel beat the hell up.
I’ve got cuts and bruises from the fight, and my back is sore from where that one asshole shoved me into the brick wall. The hot water makes it all worse for a little bit, until it manages to settle the pain into a dull ache rather than several sharp stings.
My ankle is swollen and sore, but I can tell from putting weight on it that it’s not broken, just sprained.
I wash off the blood and grime, watching it all swirl away down the drain while my thoughts swirl through my head. I can feel the soreness and exhaustion from the day, but on top of that is a deep, relentless confusion that eats away at me. I was fully expecting to die today.
Those cartel thugs could have killed me in that alley without a second thought.
Theywouldhave.
But they didn’t get the chance to… because Priest saved me.
Priest, who has never been shy about letting me know how much he hates me since the second I showed up in their lives. Of all of the men, I would have most expected him to just stand back and let it happen, so he could finally be rid of me like he always seems to want.
But he didn’t.
For some reason, he was already there when I needed help. He must’ve followed me to the restaurant before I was even in trouble, or there’s no way he would’ve gotten to the alley in time to take the cartel members down.
Why?
What the fuck does that mean?
I go around and around in circles with it, trying to figure out some motive or hint as to why on earth he’d do that. I can’t make heads or tails of it.
There are all kinds of reasons he might have done it, but none of them are clear to me. None of them making any fucking sense.
Usually, I can make pretty accurate guesses about people’s motives and why they do the shit they do. Not being able to do the same with Priest makes me feel unsettled and unhappy about it.
He’s like a closed book, a block of ice. Anything he might be feeling, other than the occasional spike of anger, is kept locked up tight, and there’s no way to see through the mask he wears to find out what’s going on with him.
I finish cleaning up and get out of the shower, drying off and throwing on a pair of panties and a big t-shirt to sleep in.
Slumping down onto the bed feels good, especially considering there was a moment there where I didn’t think I’d ever get to lie in a bed again.
My body sinks into the mattress, and I close my eyes, trying to let the tiredness take over.
It’s impossible, though. My muscles, my limbs, and my sore ankle all seem grateful for the rest, but my brain won’t stop turning long enough to let me drift off.
I roll over onto my side and let out slow, calming breaths, trying to slow the churn of my thoughts and the agitation that creeps under my skin.
