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“Fuck, baby. What the hell happened to you?” Pyro said gently. At his tone, my anger bled away, and I snuggled into him. Pyro’s arms wrapped tightly around me, and I sighed. His embrace was so familiar.
“Mom and Dad tried to adopt you; did you know?” I asked against a hard chest.
“Lio gave me an outline. Sure, there’s a shitload I don’t know,” Pyro said against the top of my head. We’d fallen into our old stance, Pyro tucking me under his chin.
“So much water under the bridge, Dakota,” I whispered. “Hell, what do I call you? Dakota or Pyro?”
“Always been your Dakota baby, just as you’ve always been my Janey.”
“Well, I suppose we better talk. I’m guessing you know the basics about the murder?” I asked, pulling away from his intoxicating scent.
“Want to learn everything, Janey. Can I trust you to stay here while I get a couple of beers and food?” I snorted.
“Even if I got past you, there’s a room full of Hellfire who I suspect will stop me. Let alone the fact I’ve got no way out of here,” I growled with amusement. Laughter appeared in Dakota’s eyes.
“Long walk back to Magic,” Dakota agreed.
“No shit, buddy.”
“I’ll be a few minutes,” Dakota promised. “Make yourself at home.” Dakota winced as he saw me glancing around the room and the apparent damage that had been caused.
“Yeah, Diesel swore to fix it.”
“What happened?” I asked curiously.
“I found out the basics. And lost control.” Wow, that was an honest answer.
“Do you have control now?” I whispered.
“Now you’re here and safe? A fuck load, yeah, baby.”
“Okay, Dakota, I’ll wait here, and we’ll talk,” I said.
“Good.” Dakota turned on his heel and disappeared. I saw Tiny in the hallway and made a slash across my throat. Tiny winced and started walking away.
“Tell Shotgun he’s on the shit list too, Tiny!” I yelled. I heard a long-suffering sigh and received a grunt as an answer.
I climbed onto Dakota’s bed and leaned against the wall. This wasn’t how my day was supposed to go. Worn out, I grabbed a pillow and hugged it, smelling Dakota’s scent and the smell of newness. The entire bed, including bedding, was new. Damn, Dakota must have smashed everything up because there was only a bed and a chair with a pile of clean clothes folded neatly. The door opened, and Dakota came in.
“Sent Smoke for subs. Here,” Dakota stated, handing me a Corona. I drank deeply and leaned into Dakota as he lifted an arm, and I snuggled under it.
“Start from the beginning, Janey; what happened after the fire?” Dakota said.
“Dad was hauled to the hospital in another ambulance. The flames had caught Dad’s legs badly when he raced through them for you. Dad was hospitalised for a month; he had the room next to yours. I don’t think you’d remember Dad visiting you in a wheelchair because of your injuries.” I broke off, remembering the smell of burnt flesh, not just from Dad, but also from Dakota.
“Yeah, I was pain-ridden for ages. I just remember Tom being by my bed,” Dakota admitted.
“Yeah, Mom had bullied her way into the ambulance with you, and I went with Dad. Mom hadn’t realised Dad had been so severely hurt, but she’d still have gone with you. Once Dad was up and walking, they discovered you’d no other family and started adoption proceedings. After six months, they were so close, and only the judge’s blessing remained when Mom fainted and fell down the stairs.
She was rushed to the hospital and was diagnosed with a fast-acting brain tumour. Mom and Dad tried to keep it a secret but had to disclose it. Two weeks Dakota, that’s how damn close we were to having you. Once the judge found out, he denied the application and broke their hearts. Mom went quickly, honey; she had mere months left. But Mom’s one regret was not getting you. Dad decided that you’d gone through enough, and we wouldn’t tell you Mom had passed.
Those two weeks we said we were on vacation were when Mom died. Instead, Dad told me to mourn hard because I’d lost enough, and he didn’t want more grief for you. So, Dad and I grieved Mom for a fortnight and carried on living. Dad kept pressing to adopt you, and even though we had money and were comfortable, the courts denied him. Because of his burns.
And then they hit us with a court order to stay away from you because you wouldn’t settle. They wouldn’t let Dad explain anything to you. That shit broke Dad, and just before my sixteenth birthday, he died from lung failure. It caused Dad to have a heart attack, and he was gone.”
“Why did Tom’s lung collapse?” Dakota asked, needing the answer.
“Because Dad had inhaled so much smoke. Dad’s legs kept causing pain, and he’d had two blood clots. A third clot caused the heart attack, aided by his lung collapsing. Dad was dead before he hit the floor. Dakota, Dad died from a combination of things, but he never blamed you, nor did I. When I realised I was fully alone, I thought about finding you. But the courts had said they were attempting to place you with a family, and I didn’t want to upset your life. So, I stayed away. I put myself through college and university and earned head librarian in Spearfish.”
