AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Celt held a one-hitter between his first and second finger of one hand, and with the other, he pushed the uniform shirt out of the way, reaching into his jeans pocket. Wilde wore a scowl that pinched his forehead into two lines between his brows.
“He was new to town,” Celt said as I arrived quietly at his side.
Wilde looked up at me, and Celt’s gaze followed. Worry, anger, and more worry twisted on my brother’s face as he stepped between me and the body.
I croaked, “I’m all right, Celt.”
The old bike Wilde and I had been working on, stood between us. Celt puffed out his chest in a way that clearly said he wanted to protect me from the scene on the floor. When I moved left, he did too. He continued the dance when I moved right and tried to peer around him.
Finally, I put my hands on my hips and glared up at him. Grinding my teeth, I steeled myself to show him all the strength I could muster. He needed to see me as firm, decisive, and in control. “Let me see with my own eyes that the fucker is dead. Don’t take that from me.” I kept my eyes on Celt’s, hoping that my voice sounded as I’d intended rather than the plea that I heard intertwined with every word.
So many thoughts passed behind my brother’s eyes as we faced off. Celt squinted and scrunched up his mouth like he wanted to retort but was physically holding the words inside. His brows furrowed then raised high. He didn’t—fucking couldn’t—understand how much seeing Luke’s lifeless body sprawled across my shop floor would help me to know that this wasn’t going to happen again. I desperately needed to see so that I’d be certain of two facts. First, that he would never be able to lay his grubby hands on me again. Second, that no one else in The Ridge would fuck with me either once they heard what’d happened. My brother inhaled sharply through his flared nostrils. I kept my face as still as possible—cold, collected.
All the while, Wilde stood by watching—still, calm, and solid—but I felt electricity thrumming in the air around him. Why, I couldn’t be sure. Was he ready to pounce? To agree with Celt? To stand up for me?
Strong, Bou, be strong, I chanted inside my head.
More words tried to bubble up from my chest. Finally, Celt tucked his chin and moved to the side. Once his gaze had left my face, I blinked slowly then looked down. Luke’s blank face, still intact, faced to one side with his mouth slack and eyes hazed with death. Blood pooled under his open jaw, and the back of his head was flat-out missing. Luke’s limbs contorted unnaturally. His torso lay half on the side with one arm twisted up behind him and the leather-wrapped wrist and hand poking out from under the body. His other arm was also wrenched and seemed to float on the blood. The dead fucker’s legs were bent, but not splayed as wrongly as his arms, because they were bound at the knees by where his pants were still holding them close. His flaccid, lifeless cock—something he’d never, ever have the opportunity to use as a weapon again—drooped onto one of his thighs and was covered in my blood. My mouth flooded as something in my gut was crawling up into my throat, but I couldn’t force myself to look away until I’d committed the full scene to memory. I swallowed. My whole body felt cold and hot all at the same time.
I gulped a cleansing breath and looked up at Wilde. My stomach started to settle as soon as I did. We were in the same place. Whatever Wilde was thinking, he didn’t say or show any more or less than I needed in that moment. I nodded my thanks to him. Then I tilted my head in the direction of the kitchenette at the shop’s rear, said to Celt, “Let’s grab a beer,” and walked away.
As I reached in the fridge and snagged three longnecks, the swinging door creaked and Celt’s boots thunked on the floor. Wilde’s uneven gait came behind him—thunk, tap-thunk, tap-thunk. After sliding the church-key from the drawer, I put the beers on the island.
My brother started, “Sis, I, uh . . .”
“Don’t. I’m tight.” I pushed a beer over to him then one to Wilde. “The last thing I need is your, or anyone’s” —I looked meaningfully at Wilde, who held up his hands—“fucking pity.”
Celt, putting his one-hitter behind his ear, downed half his beer before I took my first sip. When he dropped it back onto the counter, he said, “Bou, I promised Pops I’d protect you. You’re coming back to the house.”
“No.”
“Not negotiable, sis.”
“You’re fucking right it’s not negotiable! I’m not goddamn going anywhere.”
He started in again, but I held up a hand and closed my eyes. “What you can do for me... is let me light up on that.” I pointed to the joint. People in The Ridge were proud of their weed. Grew the best in the three-state area, they always said. I didn’t really know any different, and I didn’t partake very often, but right then, easing the aches and throbbing between my legs and on my face was about the only thing on my mind.
With the smoke in my lungs for a good minute, the edge faded. Perfect. Relief spread through me and eased my tension. Sure, I knew in my brain that I was stressed, but I hadn’t been aware of how much tension I held in my neck and shoulders until it blessedly ebbed away.
The men watched me smoke, thankfully giving me a moment just to be alone even though they were right there with me.
“Bou,” Celt began again, but I stopped him with a warning hand. “I’ve said no. I’m not discussing it further. Wilde will look after me.”
I hoped he would, but saying it out loud suddenly felt like it was too much. I glanced up at him, hoping to see acceptance in his eyes, and was caught off guard slightly by the smug grin on his face, aimed at Celt.
Celt looked from Wilde to me then softened his stance. “I don’t like it, but you’re a grown woman, Bou.” He turned to Wilde. “You’d better look after her.”
“I’m not going to let her out of my sight.”
I furrowed my brow in the hopes he wouldn’t see the effect his words had on me. I didn’t need Wilde, but after what happened, I did want him here with me.
My mind wandered back to what had happened before Luke came into the shop. I had pushed Wilde away, and he had told me he was leaving. How things had changed in such a few brief hours.
“Celt. I need you to clean up that... mess in my shop. I need to have a shower. I feel disgusting.”
Celt sighed then nodded his head. “Sure. That’s the other reason I came back. You sure you’re okay?”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure at all. I felt violated and nauseated, though the weed was helping with that.
