My spine straightens when I start to put two and two together. He had been convicted of rape? Oh my god, I did leave one horror for the other. No, wait. No, I didn’t. If that was the case, he wouldn’t be trying to ignore me every chance he got. He was disgusted when he saw my bruises. He was found guilty, but was he innocent?
That makes me feel better, if it’s true.
“So, what? You’re just going to keep her here? There’s a nationwide search for her. You’re officially harboring a murderer. Do you want the feds involved?”
“I don’t regret what I did. If you charge at me, rip my towel off my naked body, and force yourself between my legs, you better believe I’d shoot you too.” I try to charge at the police officer, but Grayson holds me back.
Heaven snickers, and Owen has an amused grin on his face.
Officer Howard looks me up and down, really taking in how fucked up I am, and his shoulders sag. “Those men do that to you? You’re black and blue everywhere.”
“Those men and one other. I just don’t know if the other is dead or not,” I say, my body slightly trembling, and I don’t know if it’s from the anger or Grayson rubbing soothing circles on my back to keep me calm.
“She’s staying,” Jaxon says. “She’s officially part of our little entourage. We’ll figure out how to deal with her on the news. We aren’t new to this. She’s safe here. Better here with us than guys like you, apparently.”
“I’m trying to do my damn job.”
“Well, you’re going about it the wrong way. You know damn well what would happened if this came out. She’ll be charged. No one gives a fuck about women these days, and it’s wrong. Well, we’re protective of women. We care about our women. We will make sure she gets the justice and peace she deserves.” Grayson’s word have hope flying around in my stomach like a thousand dragonflies. He said, ‘our’ women. Does that mean he considers me his, or does that mean he was just being nice? I’m not going to read into it, no matter how much my heart is skipping every other beat, making it difficult for me to stand upright because my head is dizzy from the lack of blood flowing to my brain.
I’ll be fine.
“You might advocate for the law, Howard, but we advocate for the order. Now, get the fuck out of our house before I throw you out,” Grayson opens the door that leads to the garage and presses the button.
“Tootles, better hope we don’t fucking kill you anyway,” the greaser says, puffing on his cigar.
Officer Howard hurries out the door, and Grayson slams it then locks it behind him. Grayson brackets his hands against the wall and curls his fingers in. His shoulders rise and fall, and I stand there, not knowing what to do. I feel bad that all of that fuss was about me. I didn’t realize how much drama I’d be bringing here with me.
Another naïve notion on my part.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I… I didn’t know how severe things would get. I wasn’t being rational. I just wanted to get away from those two men as fast as possible. I was scared and—”
“Ah, don’t worry ’bout it.” The greaser tugs on his trousers to pull them up. “We’ve all done worse; right, guys?”
“Definitely.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“For sure,” Heaven says, adding a wink while he looks at me.
“I’m Ezekiel. You can call me Zeke. I’m their lawyer. Their clean-up guy. The guy who gets them jobs. I’m their everything, really. And who are you, beautiful?” He reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth, giving my knuckles a kiss. “Aren’t you exquisite?”
Grayson slaps Zeke’s hand away. “No. She’s way too young. She’s eighteen. Yesterday.”
“Legal,” Zeke growls and play bites the air. “All bets are off then.”
I giggle, and Gray narrows his eyes at me, not liking my reaction to Zeke. Well, at least he isn’t put off by my age. Granted, I didn’t try talking to him when I was seventeen either, so there’s that.
“Wait, yesterday was your birthday? And we didn’t do anything? Guys, we need a cake or something. Oh, I’ll make it.” Heaven limps to the kitchen cabinet and starts pulling out the supplies.
“No, it’s fine, really. I need to be on my way, so I don’t get you guys into any more trouble. I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years. It’s just another day.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Grayson grumps and pushes off the door. “You go out there, you’re going to get cuffed in less than a day. You’re staying here. End of story. You and I need to talk. Can someone please come get me when Dillon wakes up? He has to be hungry.”
“He can have some of the cake I’m making,” Heaven says, draping a pinky frilly apron around his neck. In black font across the front it says, ‘Kiss the cook.’
“Kids can’t have cake for breakfast,” Grayson argues.
Heaven scoffs and flicks out the whisk he has in his hand. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. Something about being hyper or some shit,” Grayson says.
“That sounds like bullshit and a boring way to live life. The kid is getting cake. He has cancer, for fuck’s sake. He can have the whole damn thing for all I care.” Heaven looks up from the bowl, wide-eyed. “Shit, Grayson. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”
Grayson gives him a sad smile before opening the sliding glass door. “It’s fine. You’re right. He deserves all the cake. I need to be more lenient since he might die.”
“He won’t die—”
“You don’t know that, Zeke. None of us know that.” Grayson heads out the sliding glass door, and I watch as he heads toward the edge of the pool. He’s staring
