Page 13 of Saints

Breath wouldn’t come— not when the rot was all that was left. Intuition demanded that I squeeze my eyes shut, but when guilt lined my system, I grabbed out for whatever I had left. That night, there wasn’t anything on the ground. If there was, I would have driven over the damn thing myself. Which means there wasn’t room for doubt anymore. None of this was an accident. Someone caused the crash, pulled her from the wreckage, and cleaned up the mess the moment they saw my headlights.

Someone hurt her.

Someoneplanned on hurting her again.

“I need to see her.” The haze made my movements thick, but distance wouldn’t dull the snarl. When my answer wouldn’t come, Omar took a dangerous step towards the hallway, and a claw in his shoulder pulled him back. “I need to fucking see her, Mick.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“If she needs help, it’s my responsibly to—”

“I don’t give a shit.” Something new prickled my skin, and when Omar looked back at me, I wondered if he saw it too. I wondered if he saw the transformation that had taken hold of my bones. “Do your fucking job and let me do mine.”

“I’mtrying.”

“Then find the fuck who did this.” Dark eyes locked and for a moment, I thought he’d try again. For a moment, I thought he’d push this thing to the limit. “Start with Josh.”

A furrowed brow relaxed his jaw. “The kid in the hospital? Why?”

Flashes sent shivers over my skin, images of the bloody mess beneath me. Josh was the only real lead we had because if the positions had been reversed, I might want revenge too. If someone had stopped me from being with Birdie, if someone had taken everything away from me, I might want to hurt him too.

Maybe Josh was trying to take away my life the way I’d taken his.

“Just look into the fucking kid.”

“I can’t buy you much time, Mick. This isn’t some junkie that’s missing. People are looking for her.”

“I got that.”

When our eyes locked, something shifted. Omar’s arms folded over his chest, and for the first time in a long time, I was reminded of the beat cop I met all those years ago. The thing that built the friendship would be the thing that risked it. It was the same look Birdie used to give me— the look of a friend who would break every rule just to keep me safe. A nod was all he could manage before making his way back to the police cruiser. With one last look at the hallway, Omar committed to another investigation he’d never believe in, one that only seemed to feed the thing living in my marrow.

There wouldn’t be time to rest— something knew my body didn’t deserve it. By the time the front door closed, my world was already back in flames. Age-old senses knew she was there before my head ever did, a tug too powerful to pull away from. Birdie must have heard the car start out front, because something had forced her shaking legs out of the makeshift hospital room. The bedroom door swung open and I was on her. By the time she found the strength to limp for the door, I slammed her down to the ground. By the time she cried out for help, my hand was already on her lips.

Right where his were.

Touching her the way that disgusting pig did.

Her body crumbled the moment my hands found her. A moan of pain crawled from her stomach as I climbed on top of her, but the scream for help would never reach the officer outside. I wouldn’t look away from her as we listened in silence, as we waited for the rumble of an engine and the crunch of gravel. I didn’t move my hand until I was certain he’d gone, and even then, it was only to rest on her bruised neck.

You’re pathetic.

Her lips quivered with another cry. A tightened grip pulled something else from her bones. “Please.”

“Scream.” Annoyance tightened my muscles when her cry didn’t fill the air. “No one’s coming to help you.”

“I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t look away from her when I saw it. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to remember a time when Icouldn’tsee it, a time when she didn’t look like that. Bridget was shaking, but everything felt so different. She was terrified of me.

Maybe she should be.

“Please, Michael,” she sobbed out. “Please. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I told you—”


Tags: Alice T. Boone Erotic