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“What can I do for you, Boyd?”
Kal’s cool, unaffected voice is what I try to focus on as I kneel at Riley’s side, my heart in my throat.
There’s too much blood outside of her body, but when I press my fingertips to her forearm, her pulse beats faintly beneath, sparking tentative hope in my chest.
“Romeo Bianchi... got to my sister,” I say, swallowing over the nausea.
“What do you mean, he got to her?”
“I mean she’s laying in front of me bleeding to death,” I snap, tears springing to my eyes for the first time since I was a kid, fear making me shake. “She’s... she’s just a fucking kid, Kal.”
“What interest does Romeo have in your sister?” He pauses, but I’m not exactly sure what he’s asking. “Does this look like a general assault, or is it possible she was abused sexually, as well?”
“How the fuck should I know?” She’s wearing what looks like a sundress, but I can’t tell if it’s hiked up her legs on purpose or just from her position.
“Calm down, Kelly. I only ask as a precaution, so I know what equipment to bring. Is she still breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Good, good. Don’t move her, text me the address and I’ll come to you.”
* * *
Pacing outside my guest room, I try to find a way to occupy my thoughts. To keep from leaving the house and tracking down both LeeAnn and Romeo and making them atone for their sins with blood. I pick up a book—The King’s Stepdaughter—from the table in the hall, flipping through the pages as I try to calm down, but it doesn’t work.
The only thing I can think about is Riley.
When Kal arrived at the trailer, he’d wrapped her up in white sheets and carried her carefully to his vehicle, checking her vitals inside the massive SUV in case someone returned. He said she looked bad, but didn’t elaborate when I asked what that meant, exactly, given the things he’s supposedly seen and done.
He transported her to my house while I rode my bike behind them, had me carry her to the guest room and has been locked in there with his equipment, washcloths from my linen closet, and two buckets filled with lukewarm water ever since.
Tossing the book to the floor in frustration, I run my hand through my hair, pulling hard at the ends. It was one thing when it was LeeAnn hurting me, but for some reason, the idea of her abusing Riley never fully crossed my mind.
She was the one LeeAnn kept, so why would she hurt her?
Truth is, I probably just didn’t care enough to see the signs. Let my resentment color my vision in their presence, determined to come out of the relationship with both of them somehow unscathed, not realizing that the original wounds never bothered to fully close in the first place.
Violence flashes across my eyes when I close them, red splattering against the dark backdrop, pulling me back in time to when I was the one fending LeeAnn’s friends and boyfriends off.
To the times I stepped in, trying to help her, and she let them abuse me instead.
I lost my virginity when I was twelve. Unwillingly.
Killed a man for the first time when I was fourteen.
Riley wasn’t supposed to have the same fate, but the fact that I didn’t do anything to change it, too blinded by my hatred, is what makes the violence take root, coagulating in my gut like a cement brick, sending searing pain down my spine.
A knock at my front door draws my attention, and I head down the stairs cautiously, positive in my convictions that LeeAnn wouldn’t be stupid enough to turn up here.
As I pass the kitchen table, I swipe my gun from its surface, just in case.
Peeking out through the little window, I spot a splash of red hair, my body heaving a sigh of relief even as it locks back up, guarding itself.
Considering the danger just being here is putting her in, I have to think of a way to make Fiona leave.
I crack the door, raking my gaze over the leggings and off-shoulder sweatshirt she has on, a lump forming in my throat for entirely different reasons.
“Hi,” she says, a shy smile spreading across her red lips. “Are you—didn’t we have a dinner date scheduled? Are you ready?”
