Marcus reaches for me again, but not before I slap Blaze in the face as hard as I can muster, but he doesn’t even move.
Oh God, my hand burns.
“What’s she talking about?” Blaze’s eyes don’t ask me the question they ask Marcus.
“He raped her. A-fucking-gain,” I seethe, the words dripping like venom from my mouth. “And you were meant to protect her. You were meant to save her.”
Blaze takes a step back, shakes his head, and before I can say anything else to hurt him the way I’m hurting, he’s gone. The only thing left is the noise of his engine as he speeds away.
“I’m taking you home.”
“No. I want to go to my home.” I try to pull away, but Marcus holds me.
“You’re wearing your underwear out in public, pretty girl. Let me take you home.” I look down and see I only have on panties and my shirt, the latter just barely covering me. I didn’t think clearly when I was leaving, I simply knew I had to get to Tanika.
“I want to go to my home. I don’t want to go to your bubble where you make everything seem okay. Then you burst my bubble when I think it’s all working.” I take a deep breath. “Nothing is okay. Every damn thing is broken, and people are dying.”
“People die, pretty girl, it’s just the way of the world. We can’t stop it.”
“Trust you to say that. You love death. I bet you can’t even wait till you die.” We are standing on the bridge, the police and ambulance people are still milling around. Some know him from what he does, and it makes me even more uncomfortable.
“Death is inevitable. We can’t stop it, and we should greet it as an old friend. It’s not here to hurt us, it’s here to set us free from this cage we live in.”
“You’re fucked,” I say, shaking my head and walking to my car.
Marcus catches up with me, his hand catching my wrist and turning me around to face him. His body touches mine and he wraps himself around me. “I’ll hold you all night, because I know that’s what you need. All fucking night.”
I’m too weak to tell him no.
To tell him he’s everything I need and nothing I want.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rochelle
Marcus does as he said he would. His arms never leaving me for long, and no matter how much I pushed him away, he would always come straight back, gripping me to him as if he needed it as much as I did. Maybe he does, I know I did.
Waking up the next day hurts, and all I want to do is to sleep again—there’s no agony in the world of darkness.
So that’s what I do. I only wake when a police officer comes to take my statement, or when Marcus feeds me, then I crawl back into bed.
The following day Marcus is still here, still in my house. I wake and know I have to move because I need to go to work.
I run on autopilot—find clothes, brush hair, apply makeup, get ready, leave.
“Are you going to work?” Marcus asks, walking in dressed, and holding two cups of coffee in his hands.
“I need to go to work,” I reply, taking one and looking at the logo. “This is the coffee house of the guy’s hand you were removing,” I say, looking down at it. “Find any other suitable people in there today?”
“Pretty girl…” he warns.
“Whatever! I have to go.”
“Tanika’s body was found. She’s coming to me tomorrow.” I pause at the door, my keys now in hand. “I’ll take care of her. Do you wish to see her?”
My hands sweat as they hold the coffee and keys. Words for some reason cannot leave my mouth.
“Rochelle…” My name. Marcus has never called me that before. It’s always pretty girl.
Not looking back, not saying a word, I leave and head straight to work.
Martin is already there when I arrive. Which is a surprise, because he’s never there before me.
“You’re here,” Martin says, surprised, while looking up over his glasses.
“You’re in?” I ask, looking directly at the clock.
Martin shakes his head. “Dave has become quite painful. Seems he’s worse than the men he was going after.”
“What do you mean?”
“He destroyed my car last night. I had to call the police on him. Then I woke up to this.” He pushes his cell toward me. There is a picture of his house on the screen, the words ‘YOU’RE NEXT’ are painted in red across the front. I shake my head and look up at him. The poor man is sweating profusely, his brows are furrowed, and worry is etched all over his face.
“Go to the police.”
“I will. But, Rochelle, if you see him, I want you to stay as far away as you can, and call the police immediately.”