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I pull it off and drop it to the floor. Blue’s stare drops to study me, heat flowing behind her eyes, the corner of her mouth tipping down.
“Answer the question.” I demand.
“You have more problems than I can count, number one. And instead of dealing with them, you’ve been coming here to harass me. I’m a target, and I didn’t ask to be one. On top of that, you lie by omission and take from me before dropping bullshit on my head. You abduct women, break into apartments, and —”
“Okay, I get it. You can stop.”
“Second question,” she says without missing a beat.
I grind my teeth again, standing stock-still as she walks up to me with a hip sway that has me thinking another few questions may be worth fucking her again.
She places a finger at the tip of a scar that runs from my shoulder down along my chest. My body goes rigid at the touch. But she waits for the memories to invade.
Grow the fuck up…
Be a MAN!
Ezra screaming from where he’s held back.
“Another fight,” I growl. The memories are assaulting me harder now. It’s like I’m back at that warehouse in my sixteen-year-old body, facing a man who flips a knife between his fingers.
With a delicate touch, Blue traces a line. “For what?”
“Money. What else?”
“Your father,” she correctly guesses.
“The stakes were higher when my opponent was allowed to use a weapon.”
“And?” Her eyes peer up at mine.
Blood…so much blood.
“I disarmed him and rammed his knife through his trachea.”
That’s how to do it…
That’s my son…
My father would count the money in front of us.
Blue stills in place, her fingertip still pressed to the bottom tip of the scar.
Instead of crying about it, or attempting to kiss it away, the rage in Blue grows, her face a tight expression, but I can almost see the gears grinding in her head.
Too much silence passes and I’m about to pull away from her when she says, “It was often that we stayed in shitty motels.” Her eyes lift to mine. “My mom, my brother and me. I think I was eight, maybe nine.”
Pausing, she sucks her lips between her teeth, chews on them, just a touch of tears welling in her eyes.
They never fall down her cheeks.
“There was a man there. My brother and I had run out to grab food to bring back. The man grabbed me and slid his hands between my legs. Kane attacked him right in front of me. He’s five years older, so he was bigger than me. I saw my first dead body that night. Kane wouldn’t stop punching, even when I was trying to pull him away.”
My eyes widen, not at the story she told me but that she chose to reveal what I’d already guessed about her life.
The voices and laughter disappear.
Now I just want the younger version of me to find the younger version of her so we can help each other.
