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They allknoweach other’s business, but none of them want to beinit.
Not that I can blame them. The man outside has killed out of loyalty to his father. I’m pretty damn certain he’s also killed for sport. But then again, if the rumors are true, Maddie’s family has killed for a lot less. At what point will I admit to myself I simply choose the lesser of two evils?
“I think I might nip to the bathroom before your uncle gets here.” I scoot the chair back.
Maddie lifts her gaze, softening it as she does a quick sweep of me. “It’ll be okay, Rae.”
“I know.” My shaky legs allow me to stand, yet the walk to the bathroom past the counter is a feat in and of itself.
I feel Connor’s watchful eye on me the whole way, the oily sensation slipping off my shoulders as I let the door swing shut behind me. For the first time in an hour, I feel as though I can breathe properly. Hands to the basin, I let my head hang between my shoulders and draw a deep breath, counting to four before I let the air seep out slowly.
I repeat the action. Again and again.
My pulse slows. The tears build.
I push the burning fuckers back down.
I imagine it’s times like these that people call on help from the ones who love them no matter what—their family. When in times of crisis, I wish for nothing more than to have that comfort. To be able to call my daddy and ask for his help. To call my mom and ask her what she’d do in my situation.
I guess I’m free to dream.
“You’ve got what you need,” I mutter, reaching for the tap.I have Maddie.
One person in my corner is better than none.
The water is cool on my arms, a reprieve for my heated flesh as I splash it across my skin. I shut the faucet off and then dry using the paper towels from the dispenser, all the while pacing my breaths to save from undoing the hard work that I put in a minute ago.
It’s easy to fall prey to fear. To let the beast run rampant, hyping my organs until my body is in overdrive. It’s infinitely harder to recognize the stampede and control the chaos, but it always pays dividends in the end.
I’ve spent my days both ways, and I know which I’d rather lose my hours to.
“I was about to come check on you.” Maddie leans back in her seat as I approach, one arm slung over the back. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be better once I’m out of this fishbowl.” I drop into the seat and sigh as I check on Connor.
Yep. Right where I left him. Grinning like the cat that got the cream. He rotates his phone in his palm, likely frustrated I blocked his number over a week ago. The anxiety in not knowing his next move is a hell of a lot less than the fear that came with the promises he’d send every goddamn hour of the day.
At first glance, he’s a product of his upper-class upbringing. Finely tailored clothes, impeccable grooming, and the kind of masculine beauty that only generations of carefully selected breeding can produce. I always wondered what he saw in me. I still do.
Surely there’s some heiress more deserving of his sick fascination?
Then again, I’m the type of fool who wouldn’t wish the torture on anyone else. No matter how deserving they may be.
“Thank fuck,” Maddie sighs. “Your ride’s arrived.” She jerks her chin toward the street.
Not that she needs to. The cutlery nested in a ceramic cup in the center of the table rattles with the vibrations from the beast of a bike that backs in next to Maddie’s. All heads turn toward the source of the noise as the broad-backed rider kicks the stand down. Practiced indifference returns to the patron’s features when they look away again, allowing the man with the screaming skull on his back the privacy he needs to go about his business in this place.
“You ready to go?” Maddie sets her hand atop mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I guess.”
Her uncle leaves the machine running after he dismounts, pressing a closed fist into the palm of his other hand as though stretching his knuckles. He stands with shoulders squared and booted feet set wide while he faces off with Connor, not that anyone can see the expression beneath the blacked-out visor of his full-face helmet.
His body language tells us enough.
“Good.” Maddie stands, righting the strap of her bag across her chest. “Looks like he brought a spare helmet.”
I force my gaze off the tower of terror kitted out head-to-toe in black and note the matching helmet hooked to a strap that sits snug across the seat of his bike.Shit.I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. I wouldn’t know how to buckle the damn thing, let alone know if it fits right.
