Why was he fighting me on this? “Don’t care. She’s not my problem. She’s yours.” I turned and headed for my house.
“Gate,” he called. “Don’t make me, man.” He didn’t raise his voice, but then, he didn’t need to. He could hold a gun on me and I’d still keep walking. There was no way in hell I was letting her stay on my property in my fuckin’ cabin.
“Zero Crow,” Jaeg said.
I stopped.
Jesus Christ.
No way did he just say that.
It was as if a hatchet had cracked open my ribcage and a fist slammed into my heart, yanked it out, and stomped it into the dirt.
It was a phrase we’d used, the five of us—the five Horsemen—Jaeg, Callum, Saint, North, and me. A marker you don’t say no to. No questions asked. The Zero Crow bar was named after it, and it became the one place where whatever had gone down in the past between us was left at the door.
I stared at the ground. I could keep walking. I could ignore it. I owed him fuck all.
But just for another kick in the gut, he didn’t stop there.
“She has a six-year-old kid.”
I stared at the indent on the toe of my combat boot. It was from a knife fight with some sick bastard selling girls—young girls—to the highest bidder. I killed him, but not before he endured a shitload of pain.
A kid. Macayla had a six-year-old kid.
What the hell was I supposed to do with that?
The screen door squeaked open, and I turned, raising my head, my gaze landing on Macayla standing on the front porch.
It was my first mistake.
Don’t look back. Never look back.
I knew that. And yet, I’d done it anyway.
Fuck. She looked like bloody Wonder Woman standing with her arms crossed and chin jutted out. Her skin was flushed as if she’d just got out of the shower, and she wore jeans with a scoop neck white T-shirt with the image of… Christ, I should’ve known—an Ewok.
No suitcase. No packed bags.
Just an attitude.
This was why you don’t expect anything from people. They’ll always disappoint.
Her tongue flicked out and she ran it over the half-inch scar above her upper lip that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen her. I bet she didn’t even notice she did it. A nervous habit. Everyone had them, those telltale signs that gave away a person’s emotions. I didn’t have one because I didn’t get nervous. That feeling had been obliterated a long time ago.
“Mac. Hey.” Jaeg jogged up the porch steps and leaned in to talk to her. His voice was low, and I couldn’t hear what he said, but it didn’t matter to me how he let her down, as long as she left.
A kid.
It was dangerous enough to let her stay, not to mention a kid.
Because my skeletons weren’t neatly tucked away in the back of the closet.
No. They were relentless. Merciless. And piled so high they were bursting down the door, ready to destroy anything in their path.
And whenever a bone managed to break free, it was covered with the rotting flesh of memories.
The warm morning breeze drifted through her blonde strands, and a few shorter pieces wafted across her face. She raised her hand and tucked them behind her ear, but a few seconds later they fell forward again.