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“You need to tell me everything and do it fast,” Jagger orders as the two of us head to the garage.
I yank the keys for the Range Rover off the hook and toss them to Jagger. I’m too wired to drive. I can’t focus on the roads and Astrid. I tell him everything Ev found out about Astrid, and by the time I’m finished, Jagger looks like he’s been punched.
He looks at me, his hands gripping the wheel. “Maybe we should let her go. We’ve done nothing but fuck up since we met her. She deserves better than us.”
“She does. But I'm too much of a bastard to let her go. And do you really think there are men out there that can keep her safe like we can?” I look out the window. “You were right about me being drawn to her. Right from the start, I knew she was going to change my fucking world. And that fucking terrified me, Jagger. So instead of manning the fuck up and taking what I wanted, I destroyed it.”
“I spent ten years behind bars because I trusted the wrong people, and I’ve barely got my life back on track. Then all of a sudden, this…this pint-sized fairy princess comes into my life, threatening it all. What was I supposed to do? Even when I let her in, it wasn’t all the way. Hell, I’m not sure I let any of you all the way in.”
I blow out a breath and keep my eyes ahead as we pass under the large wooden Apex sign. “I guess it’s true what they say about not knowing what we have until it’s gone.”
“I don’t think we ever really had her, Slade. All three of us held parts of ourselves back for various reasons. I know you’re kicking yourself right now, but you weren’t alone in this. Astrid could have told us, but she didn’t. And I followed along with everything, whether I agreed or not, because that’s what good soldiers do, and the last time I went against orders and listened to my instincts, I led my team into a fucking ambush. They died because I trusted my gut, and my gut was fucking wrong.”
“Come on, Jagger. That’s bullshit, and you know it. What went down that day wasn’t your fault. It was shitty orders from a shitty captain who had never stepped foot in the sandbox in his life. You had a feeling something was wrong, and you acted on it. I’m sorry you lost your team, man, more than you’ll ever know. But I can’t help but be thankful. If you hadn’t listened, we could have lost you too. You think if you made a different decision, then they might all have somehow survived despite the situation you were all thrown into. I don’t. I think, as fucked as it sounds, you were all destined to die that day. You’re only here because you listened to your gut. Stop beating yourself up for shit that was beyond your control. I need you to learn to trust yourself again because you’re the only damn person who can rein me in,” I admit, making him laugh.
“Well, then, we’re both fucked.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Astrid
I sit in the twenty-four-hour diner with my hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee and smile as Glory, the woman in front of me, hangs up her cell phone.
“My sister is coming to pick me up. She’s just getting off work, so she’ll be about twenty minutes.”
“Okay, good. Do you mind if I sit here while you wait?” I don’t want to assume that just because I spared her from the bus driver that we’re friends.
Her dark eyes latch on to mine and narrow a little, making me squirm in my seat. She leans forward, her inky black hair falling over her shoulder as she talks. “Girl, from what you just potentially saved me from? You can move into my damn house if you want to.”
I grin before taking a sip of the surprisingly good coffee.
“So, this friend of yours, she didn’t report him?”
I swallow, hating the way my skin feels too tight all of a sudden. That’s the thing about lies. Once you tell one, you end up having to tell more until, eventually, you’ve planted a field of lies you have no choice but to cultivate. They’ll flourish for a while. But when the root is twisted with secrets, at some point, your deception will come to light like a weed slipping through a crack in a sidewalk.
I knew I couldn’t just get off the bus and leave Glory to her fate, just like I knew I couldn’t just tell her the truth. I made up a story about having a friend who had been raped by the driver and how I heard him talking with one of his buddies about getting a taste of Glory’s dark meat later.
At first, she was shocked and suspicious. But when she looked into the rearview mirror and saw the driver’s eyes on her, she knew. She knew in the same way a lot of women do. She sensed the evil in him and saw a premonition of her own. Not like mine, of course. But she knew what could happen if she shrugged it off.
In the end, she took a chance on me, and we both got off together. Three stops early for me, five for her. Her stop would have made her the last person on the bus.
“He is a family man, goes to church. She is a party girl who gets drunk and wears tight dresses.”
Glory’s face hardens. It’s a story everyone has heard before. In these cases, it’s almost always a case of the victim trying to prove her innocence and the predator casting doubt.
I push a little harder, not wanting her to ever hesitate to run if she sees this man again. “She reported him to his bosses. They told her she was mistaken. She doesn’t have a whole lot of faith in the police, so she didn’t even bother them with it.”
That part of my story I can at least draw from experience. I’ve had my fair share of trauma over the years, but nothing makes my skin crawl quite as much as the sight of a police uniform, no matter how irrational that is.
“You know, I have a daughter. She’s only two, but it’s things like this that scare the crap out of me about the future. I know one day I’ll have to talk to her about the things men can and will do to pretty young girls, given the chance. I’ll teach her about keeping her drink safe, about not taking unmarked cabs, or walking alone at night, or anywhere off the beaten path. I’ll buy her a rape whistle and teach her how to throw a punch, and I’ll pray every fucking day that she never ever finds herself in a situation where she finally understands why I taught her all those things.”
“Not all men are bad.” I want to laugh at the irony of the broken-hearted girl saying that shit, but it’s true. The men of Apex might not like me very much, but I’ve seen the way they are with Salem. They’d sooner cut off their arms than hurt her.
“I know. But some days, it feels like the scales are really fucking unbalanced.”
We sit quietly, drinking our drinks, as the rain begins to fall outside. The sounds of the diner making themselves known—cutlery scraping on plates, soft chatter—and I can hear Eminem’s Lose Yourself playing in the kitchen. I can’t help but think how appropriate the song is when the silence is broken.
“I’m coming back after visiting an old friend for the weekend. I can’t drive, and I sure as shit can’t afford a plane ticket, but you look like that’s not an issue. What’s your story?”
