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“Fuck you! I’m not a rapist!”
“Up until ten minutes ago, you weren’t a piece of shit either. I’m supposed to trust you around my daughter, around my old lady? These guys are meant to trust you too?” I shake my head. “Fuck that. I’d rather kill you than let you anywhere near another woman.”
“I’m not… I didn’t… I just lost control. I wanna hurt Richardson, and when I found out his daughter was here…”
“You what? Thought you’d punish her for her father’s sins?” I continue. “Just to play a little scenario here… Sophia’s fifteen. She’s walking home from school, and she’s grabbed by a bunch of masked men who drag her into a van. Terrified, she’s driven to an abandoned house and told she has to die because her father killed theirs fifteen years ago. You think that’s right? You think my kid should be on the hook for the shit I’ve done? Blackjack’s son?”
He flinches with every word I deliver. “Fuck.”
“She’s not your enemy. Desmond fucking Richardson is. You took your anger out on someone who ain’t deserving of it.”
Howler lets out a frustrated breath. “I’ll give you an hour to decide what you want to do.”
I follow Howler and Blackjack out the room, waiting as Howler locks the door behind him. Blackjack paces the corridor, his shoulders drawn high as he tries to calm himself. “You think we got through to him?”
Howler doesn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know.”
“Fuck. I don’t want to lose him again.”
“No, but this is his choice to make, Matt.” He uses Blackjack’s real name, something I’ve rarely heard him do.
“This ain’t right. He’s one of us.”
“He was. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“If his daughter can’t bring him back, then there’s no way in hell we can,” I say. “The guy’s fucked-up.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” Blackjack snaps at me. I don’t answer that because I would be, and he knows anything I say to the contrary would be a lie. “What do we do now?” This question is aimed at Howler.
“We wait.”
“For what?”
Howler’s mouth pulls into a grimace. “For him to realise he’s truly about to lose everything.”
CHAPTER17
SKYE
The bed is empty when I wake. I feel around for Rage, but the sheets are cool where he was lying when I closed my eyes. It’s not unusual for him to disappear like this, but for some reason, I feel the loss of him this morning.
The light coming in through a gap in the curtains is enough to allow me to get out of bed without needing the light. I toss the covers back and sit on the edge of the bed, letting my head settle for a moment before I move into the adjacent bathroom.
We’ve been staying in what I’ve come to think of as my room for the past week. I suspect that’s because it’s farther away from where they’re keeping Trick.
Rage’s anger hasn’t faded, even though the bruises to my neck have. They’re no longer a purple smattering across my pale skin, but a green-yellowy staining instead. The doctor had been called, despite my protests. I was grateful it wasn’t the same man I saw last time but a different, younger guy with an easy demeanour that instantly soothed my fears. He didn’t have one of those portable ultrasounds with him, but he warned me to watch for bleeding or cramping.
I step into the bathroom, sinking onto the toilet and doing my business. It’s weird how much I miss Rage when he’s not here, but I know his club keeps him busy.
Finishing up, I stand and flush the chain before moving to the sink. As I do every time I’m in front of a mirror, I turn my neck to examine the damage to my throat. It’s not as bad as it had been, but it’s still there, a reminder of that day.
I avert my gaze, turning the taps on and focusing on washing my hands so I don’t have to look any more.
I’m nine and a half weeks today. My nausea and vomiting is still pretty consistent, and my stomach has grown more. It’s a noticeable curve when I have my clothes off, and I’m as obsessed with touching my changing body as Rage is.
After I’ve washed my hands, I brush my teeth and clean my face before I get dressed and open the door.
Ralph comes up instantly from the floor where he was sitting, and I feel a pang of pity that the poor guy has to sit outside my door like a dog.
