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She crossed the distance between us, her arms wrapping around me.
“My baby,” she repeated.
And though I hated the embrace of people who loved me, who wanted to comfort me, I found myself melting into my mother’s. Collapsing into her. And although she was a small woman, who I’d never considered strong, she took all of my weight. All of my sorrow.
COLBY
When I woke up, Sariah wasn’t beside me.
I woke up pissed.
First off, I woke up terrified. Sariah’s warm body was not underneath mine. Her hair wasn’t strewn across my skin. The rise and fall of her chest weren’t the first thing I saw when I woke up. Her scent wasn’t the first thing I smelled. Her skin wasn’t the first thing I tasted.
And for a fucking horrendous moment, I was sure I’d dreamed it all. That I was still staying in cheap hotel rooms, chasing her, not knowing if this was the day she ran out of strength.
Luckily, it was only a moment, but that moment was more than enough to ruin my fucking morning.
I threw on clothes and opened the door, intent on finding Sariah, informing her that I’d punish her later. My cock twitched at the very thought. And at the low tenor of her voice coming from the direction of the kitchen. Same with the smell of coffee.
“You’re a mechanic, right?” a voice asked from behind me.
I was so jumpy I almost pulled my piece. Which I wasn’t carrying. I figured it wouldn’t have been a good idea to come into an already unpredictable situation armed.
Sariah’s father stood behind me, wearing a plaid shirt that looked like it had been ironed, same with the crip blue jeans. Though it was early, he looked like he’d been up for hours.
I cleared my throat, nodding as I recovered from his greeting.
“Good.” He jerked his head, presumably indicating for me to follow him as he walked to the end of the hall and out a back door.
I hesitated for a second, glimpsing back toward the kitchen. Sariah was safe here, in her childhood home. But it wasn’t just for her sake that I wanted to lay eyes on her. It was for mine too. Though this was important. I could tell by the look in her father’s eyes.
I followed him out the door.
The hood of his truck was up, tools laid neatly on a rag on the engine.
“Givin’ you trouble?” I asked, squinting at the engine.
“Ah, a little. She’s old but dependable, needs me to give her some quality time every once in a while.” He glanced up at me. “Like a woman that way.”
I chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”
He was looking at me with the eyes of a wary, tired, worried father. But not in the same way fathers in our small town had looked at me when they were giving me this kind of talk while I was dating their daughters.
I wasn’t a patched member of an outlaw MC then. I was a great student, on the football team, had great manners. Still, there had been a glint in some eyes. One I learned to recognize. One that labeled me as ‘other’ and didn’t want their daughter with a ‘Chinese’ boy, never mind I was Korean.
Sariah’s father did not have that look.
“Something happened to her,” he changed the subject, practically choking the wrench in his hand. He was reserved, an expert at keeping his emotions in check. A stern guy, I guessed. But one who loved his daughter dearly. Who loved her enough to see what was missing.
“Yeah, something happened.” Lying wouldn’t do much. And I respected this man. He loved his daughter. He had kept her safe the best he could.
He looked down at the wrench. “And it was bad.”
My mind threw me back into that warehouse, saw Sariah chained, bloody, felt her collapse against me, saw her in that hospital bed. Fuck, even before that, I remembered the girl whose hand I held on the rooftop a lifetime ago.
“It was bad,” I agreed, even though he hadn’t technically structured it as a question.
Though his expression remained impassive, stoic, he went back on one heel, steadying himself against the truck.
“Saw it,” he croaked. He looked to his feet, cleared his throat then looked at me. His eyes shone. “I saw it,” he repeated, clearer this time. “The second I laid eyes on her, I saw it. She was different. Older in a way that every parent hopes their child will never have to age.” He cleared his throat again. “Is the person responsible, are they…”
My mind surged back to the basement in the club.
Granger didn’t much look like a human anymore.
He was covered in his own blood and waste.
Strips of his skin hung off in places. His eyes were swollen shut. Metal cuffs around his wrists had cut through layers of skin to hit the bone. The wet, wretched sound of his breathing was the only sign he was alive.
