Devil May Care: Boxed Set (85 page)

“Oh, man, c’mon, gimme a break! I’m telling you the truth!”

I knew I was backing him into a corner; damned if you do, damned if you don’t. But that was the point. If I talked him in circles long enough, maybe he’d slip and let out something real. Something I could use.

“Then you won’t mind continuing to tell me the truth, will you?” I asked him, and raised my hand. The guy flinched, sure that I was going to hit him again, but instead, I just swiped my left hand over my right again.

“Yeah, of course. Of course I will,” he answered hurriedly.

I thought about my next question. My tongue felt dry like sandpaper and the question just stuck to it, unwilling to come out. It took me a moment, but finally I managed to ground it out. “What did you have to do with the Reverend’s death?”

The man paled and I knew without him answering that he knew something. There was no way to know for sure if he would tell me the truth of what he knew, or that when he did tell it, I’d know what that was, but I felt the sudden surge, the sudden need, to have a permanent answer. A real one. One that I could take home to Charlotte.

He swallowed heavily, clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing, but I didn’t care. Not in the least. His eyes, wide like a deer caught in the headlights, flickered over to Specter, but he found no help or even sympathy there.

After a long, dark pause, he finally answered. “I heard he killed himself.”

Violence.

I hit him before he even finished speaking, the hit for once a reflex instead of intimidation on my part. My anger flared without warning and even I was surprised. Next to me, I saw Specter send me a quick glance, but it was unreadable. I imagined it was full of approval, but I figured that really was just imagination.

“Damnit!” the guy said, clearly upset by the turn of events. “That’s what everyone’s saying!”

I cracked my knuckles to keep from hitting him again. “I know what everyone’s saying. I want to know what
you’re
saying. Understand?”

There was a long pause. I could see an internal debate being waged in his dark eyes. I couldn’t say what it was about—did he really know anything, or was he just trying to come up with something that would satisfy me?—but I wanted to tell him that he was putting too much thought into it. There  likely wasn’t going to be
anything
that he could say that would curb the growing desire to inflict bodily harm on him.

Finally he began to nod his head as though having decided something for himself. “Alright. Alright, I’ll tell you. But you gotta give me something in return.”

I raised an eyebrow at him and felt a humorless laugh building in my throat. I shoved it down, though I couldn’t help the smile that slipped over my features. It wasn’t a happy kind of smile.

“Excuse me?” I asked, but it was Specter who reached for the man and grabbed him by his dirty, blood soaked collar.

“What the fuck did you say?” he demanded, anger and violence shining in his eyes.

The man’s eyes flickered to me this time, searching for some sort of protection. “I want asylum.”

At this, I actually did laugh. “Asylum?” I repeated incredulously. “What is this? The fucking UN?”

His voice dropped as it became desperate, his words pleading with me. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. You’re not gonna like it, but I’ll tell you, but you gotta help me. If he finds out I’ve said anything, I’m a dead man!”

I stared at him bleakly, making the connections in my head. I didn’t want to, because they were going to make things much more complicated, but I couldn’t help it. Stitches was a Berserker. Leader of the Berserkers, as a matter of fact. This man, whoever the hell he was, was also a Berserker. But he was handed over by his boss for the sake of “good faith.” Which meant one of two things. Either Stitches was really trying to put his best foot forward, especially since he’d messed up our initial meeting, or he didn’t give a shit altogether. I was inclined to think the latter of the two, which led to the second part of that. If he didn’t give a shit, then this wasn’t a good faith present. It wasn’t a bribe or a show of solidarity, but a means to an end.

Stitches gave me this man for a reason, but it wasn’t the one he said. Which told me that it was pretty likely that whatever I promised him or whatever he told me, he was already dead.

I almost told him that, almost told him that it was out of my hands, but it had been my experience that when men knew that there was no hope, they weren’t interested in telling you the truth anymore. So I kept my mouth shut about that and lied to him.

“Fine. If you give me something good, something useful, then I’ll take care of you.”

I saw the hope blooming in his eyes, wild and almost frantic. It made my stomach churn, but I didn’t care. This was business and sometimes lying was a part of that business.

“Okay, okay,” he said, now sounding eager. “I’ll tell you everything.”

I highly doubted that, but let him speak. I knew that the beating part of this wasn’t over; it was hard to say if the man had more to worry from the Berserkers, or from me.

“It’s all about this video…”

I sat up in bed, because I didn’t want to remember the end of that conversation. I didn’t want to remember anything from last night.

Well, maybe not
anything
.

I thought of Charlotte with her legs wrapped around my middle as I thrust into her over and over again. She hadn’t complained when I told her that it wouldn’t be gentle, and when shoved her up against that wall, she had been more than willing to give me anything and everything I needed.

That had been the only good thing about that night. Charlotte usually was. It didn’t matter how bad the day was, Charlotte was always this pretty, sweet thing to come home to. There was more to her than that, of course, a connection between the two of us that I couldn’t really explain to someone who didn’t already
know
, but the fact that she immediately turned me on didn’t hurt either.

But even the great sex hadn’t been enough to chase away the nightmares. Last night they’d been about the man and the things he told me. Things I would never again be able to forget.

There was just too much these days. Too much blood for too many years, and now it was getting closer. It wasn’t just that
work
was dangerous anymore. Now it was coming home with me. That alone was enough to really worry me. It meant that I wasn’t the only target anymore. It meant that
Charlotte
was in real danger now, and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to lose her.

The thought put a real fear into me and I knew that whether that man was lying or not, I had to take him seriously.

Charlotte

I sat in the back room which served as my office. All of the legitimate work that the club was involved with ran through the Heaven & Hell Auto Shop. The members who worked here were good at what they did, some of the best in town as a matter of fact, but not every member had a knack for mechanics. I sometimes wondered if that was how the Unholys ended up doing some of the more illegal activities. I took some comfort in knowing that it was never as bad as some of them were. They didn’t get into running guns or selling things like meth or coke. Mostly they dealt a little weed, maybe speed. Nothing too major, though I would have just as soon they not deal with anything outside the realm of legal.

The office was a somewhat small room, though it was fine for just me. The only time it really felt small was when one of the other guys happened to wander in here looking for one thing or another, though that was pretty rare. The only one who paid me regular visits was Johnny.

And that was how I liked it.

There was a long window which looked out into the shop, but there were blinds that pulled down to block out the view. Important for private meetings, though we had very few of those, and important for when Johnny stopped by unexpectedly and decided he needed me. We’d had sex on the desk I currently sat at more times than I could remember, and maybe it shouldn’t have been something we did, but I enjoyed every minute of it.

Today I didn’t think that would happen, though. I’d left Johnny at the house in a bit of an angry huff. He’d mentioned my father and I hadn’t been able to let things go. How could I? I needed to get
out
of this life, but he refused to do it. He just wouldn’t go.

I did my best to focus on the work at hand, a stack of papers detailing receipts, body work done, client accounts, and other information that I hardly wanted to be going through. Still, the numbers were easy to deal with and at least I didn’t have to worry about violence
here
. That alone was becoming more important than anything since it now seemed like even
home
wasn’t safe. Not really.

I managed to get lost in my work, at least a little bit. I was focusing on the numbers and papers, inputting things into the computer, until I was off in my own world. It was nice to forget everything, but it also meant I wasn’t paying attention. I hadn’t noticed Specter as he walked past my window—you had to in order to get around to the only door into the room—and turned the knob to open the door.

My head jerked up when I heard the door push open and my heart leapt into my throat when I saw that it was Specter who walked in. Worse, he closed the door behind him.

Panic suddenly swept me, causing a surge of instinct telling me to either fight or run. Neither was a good idea, but for a long moment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important for me to get out of there.
Now
.

Forcing myself to calm down, I cleared my throat and made myself stand. I remained behind the desk and kept my eyes slightly lower than his so that I wouldn’t have to stare into them. They were one of the things about Specter that made me uncomfortable, though I couldn’t say exactly why.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, bracing my arms on the desk so that they wouldn’t shake.

I saw Specter’s thin lips pull into a smirking kind of smile that made me uncomfortable. He looked pale and there were beads of sweat trickling down over his bare head. I imagined that there was eagerness or…or maybe something more sinister lurking in his eyes.

“I just wanted to come in and check on you,” he told me, his voice gravelly, like he was a perpetual smoker.

Johnny had smoked for years and it was only recently that he’d forced himself to quit. I could still see him jonesing for a cigarette, but he’d been good about it.

“Check on me?” I repeated, confused.

He nodded once, taking a step into the room. Getting closer to me made me wish that the room were bigger and that the windows were wider and we weren’t so
alone
. Suddenly, I really wanted a second door, one that I could dive through and lock behind me when I felt like a cornered animal.

“Yeah. Last night was pretty intense,” he said, trying to sound casual, but I could sense the underlying intensity. I didn’t like it, not one bit, but what was I supposed to do? He was Johnny’s right hand. “I wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

He took another step closer and I wished that I could take a step back, but there was nowhere to go. Besides, Specter was the kind of man who enjoyed a little chase. He liked to sense the fear on his prey and would enjoy it more if I showed obviously that he scared the crap out of me. So instead, I did something brave. I moved away from the desk and went around the side to stand in front of it, effectively putting me much,
much
closer to Specter.

“I’m fine,” I told him firmly. “Johnny took care of me. I wasn’t scared.” A lie, which he probably sensed, but the mention of Johnny’s name would provide more protection from him than just about anything else. Johnny was his boss and he would kill anyone who touched me without invitation. Period.

Except that Specter didn’t seem to get the hint. He stepped closer to me and reached out, his hand trailing down over my arm, leaving me suddenly grateful that I’d worn a blouse with sleeves on it. Even so, the touch sent the wrong kind of shivers running down my spine.

Specter had always creeped me the hell out, but it was usually from a distance. It wasn’t that he’d never made a pass at me—he had and I’d declined; that was common knowledge—but it hadn’t mattered because he more or less respected my space. Not in the sense that he wouldn’t stand near me or next to me, maybe talk to me, but he wouldn’t step up this close. And he wouldn’t touch me, definitely not like that.

I couldn’t help but pull away from him quickly, though I knew I shouldn’t. But he didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

“Good. If you’re ever not,” he said, his voice low and laced with something that I couldn’t place, “you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

I wanted to tell him that
Johnny
would take care of it. I wanted to tell Specter that there wasn’t a damn thing I wanted from him except to have him leave me the hell alone, but I knew better than that. Specter creeped me out, but there was no denying that he’d saved my life before, and probably Johnny’s, too. Dad had trusted him with his life, but the value of dad’s life in his own mind was pretty questionable these days, and I wasn’t sure if he’d made much better decisions with those he trusted in the past.

“Thanks,” I heard myself say, though I wanted to put some real distance between myself and Specter. “But I’m fine. Really. I’m just busy today and need to get back to work.” I gestured towards my desk and the stack of papers sitting on it. I hoped desperately that it was enough for him to take the hint and leave.

He smiled thinly at me, but gave me a quick nod. “Good.”

He left then and I watched him go, keeping my eyes on him until the door closed behind him. Only then did I release the breath I’d been holding. Specter terrified me, and what was worse, I knew that though he left today this wouldn’t be the end. Those kinds of guys, the tough guys who just took what they wanted, didn’t just let things go. And they sure as hell didn’t take no for an answer.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. Specter wasn’t the first guy like that I’d ever met and he wouldn’t be the last.

I was walking home. It was stupid; I should have let my dad give me a ride. But he was fighting with Mom and the fight spilled over until they were yelling at me, too. I wasn’t so fragile that it just tore me up inside, but I took it personally.

I was only fifteen after all.

So instead of being an adult and letting them work their own shit out, I decided that I’d walk home. That one decision changed my life.

It was raining and I was cold, but I kept my chin up, pretending like I didn’t give a damn. I was just that tough. The guy started following me maybe a block down from the school. He was big with thick, ropey muscles that maybe some girls found attractive, but I always thought looked a little grotesque. The veins bulged a little, making it look as though he had plastic tubing buried just beneath the skin.

When I noticed that he was behind me, easily keeping pace, I started to get a little nervous. There weren’t a lot of people who would pick on me, because I was the Reverend’s daughter, though at the time I didn’t fully understand what that meant. I understood that he had a lot of friends with motorcycles and they looked to him for advice. Otherwise, he was just my dad who owned a small auto repair shop.

But maybe that guy didn’t know who I was. I was wearing a skirt and the button-down shirt my mom insisted on because it was picture day and I should look respectable. I could have been anyone that day.

I thought maybe he wasn’t following me. I was walking down the sidewalk on a fairly main road and there were plenty of other people out. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I couldn’t help it. I sped up. He did, too.

My worry was starting to get the best of me, but I didn’t want to run. That would look suspicious, right? So I just stopped instead. I leaned against the wall and dug through my backpack, trying to be casual. I hoped that the guy would just keep on walking, telling me in no uncertain terms that I was just being crazy.

But he didn’t. When he grabbed my arm, I realized how bad it was.

“Aren’t you a sweet little thing,” he said, grinning widely at me. His breath smelled of booze and something else, sickly sweet.

“Let me go,” I told him, and tried to jerk my arm away, but he held fast. Things were getting worse by the minute. I struggled against him, but he was too strong, those ropey veins enough to drag me into the alley without me being able to do a damn thing about it.

He slammed me against the wall, pressing his body against mine. I hadn’t had sex before, but I knew the look in his eyes and could guess what he wanted. When he pressed his crotch against mine and I felt the bulge pressing against his pants, I got really scared. I realized how badly this would go. I realized that after this moment, I would never be okay again. I blinked back tears, still struggling even though I knew it was useless.

He used one hand to hold me in place, but the other had different plans. It was wandering, feeling up along my bare legs which were slick from the rain, until he got to my thigh. He gave it a squeeze, grinning maliciously down at me. His hand didn’t linger there for long. No, it went higher, traveling up my skirt towards my panties, and I started really freaking out. I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t.

I did the only thing I could do; I screamed. It was loud and echoing, but it was dampened by the weight of the rain and it was short lived. His hand left my crotch—thankfully before he got beneath the fabric of my underwear—and clamped down on my mouth. I continued to struggle and now I was desperate, like a trapped animal. I bit his hand without even thinking about it, making him jerk it back and roar with pain. It was a triumphant moment, but it, too, was short lived. His hand came back and smacked hard across my face, pain searing through my cheek and mouth. My lip tore and I could taste blood. He hit me so hard that I actually slid against the wall and fell to the pavement with a small cry, landing hard.

“Scream again, bitch, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

I cringed, curling in on myself, waiting for the next blow, but it never came. When I looked up, I saw why.

Johnny.

He was wicked fast and had the guy by his shirt collar at first. He punched him so hard that blood flicked in fat droplets onto the wall and the impact made a sickening sound that echoed through the alleyway. I half wanted to look away, but the rest of me was mesmerized, unwilling to miss even a second of the awesome power that was Johnny. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed him, but it was the first time that I’d truly thought of him as a warrior.

Johnny hit the guy again and again. He fell to the ground, but still Johnny went after him. He punched until the man’s face was a deformed, blood-coated version of its former self and Johnny’s hands were swollen and cut up. Half the blood on them was his, half belonged to the other man. When he finally stopped, it was only because I’d let out a tiny gasp. The man lay unconscious at Johnny’s feet, but Johnny’s gaze had flickered to me. His eyes were glassy, dark with simmering anger, but there was a tenderness there that was meant only for me.