Page 97 of Petty's Crime

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

RoseLyn

What do you want us to do with him?

Now that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?

I don’t think I’m capable of feeling any love for the man with whom I’m supposed to have shared a womb. Even if we’d met under normal, pleasanter, circumstances, I don’t think we would have clicked. Never once in the intervening years have I had a feeling that something was missing. On meeting Thorne, I’d felt no connection at all.

Like many only children, I felt the lack of a sibling growing up. Thorne, though, I’m not so sure we’d have got on. Maybe nurture would have turned him out different, but we’ll never know.

“Is he really my twin?” I ask, hoping there’s some doubt in the matter. That the unpleasant man I met isn’t related to me after all.

“He is.”

The quiet confirmation makes it harder for me to think what to do. Suddenly, all the fake bravado that had kept me going in front of Thorne dissipates, and I feel myself start to decompress. Mindful of his injuries, I lean against Petty, needing his support.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, softly stroking my hair as I let out a sob into his chest. “I got you, babe. You’re safe.”

Surprisingly, I feel his body trembling, explained, perhaps, when he says, “Fuck, I thought I might never see you again. Thought I might have lost the chance to hold you in my arms. You know, I’m never fuckin’ going to let you out of my sight again.”

I, too, want to stay close. All my misgivings about the Devils have disappeared. How could I hold onto them as they’d been the ones to find me? I still don’t know how, but I’ll never be able to thank them enough.

“He said he was going to send bits of me back to my parents.” I shudder. “He wanted to punish them.” The implications of the last few hours suddenly hit me. “Who are my parents, Petty?” I wail. “What kind of people must they be to take me and not him? How could they have been lying all these years when they never told me I was adopted?”

“Shush.” He strokes my hair again, and I wonder whether he knows how much it calms me. “The only way to find out the truth is going to be if you ask them.”

“I don’t want to see them right now. It’s too much to process.” Am I really not who I thought I was all these years? Even now I love them and want to protect them and can’t believe they’ve been lying to me. I’m scrambling to find another reason for all this, some explanation that would show Thorne’s story was just a ghastly mistake.

Footsteps sound, and still holding me close to him, Petty turns.

“Owl’s taken Thorne back to the clubhouse in the truck. Meat’s already on his way to get you with the SUV.”

As Crash speaks, suddenly I remember all my obligations. “What time is it? I should be on stage.” It’s only then I notice how dark it’s gotten around us. “I’ve got to call Bart. He’s going to be so worried—”

“Taken care of,” Crash states. “Red’s updated him already. There’s a substitute act gone on in your stead. Honey, even if you could make it on time, you’ve gone through too much to sing tonight.”

I’ve been kidnapped, had the fact I’m a twin dropped on me, said twin admitting he’d torture me and probably kill me, and now I’m faced with Petty, and my emotions are all in a turmoil over his pronouncement he’d like us to be a thing, and my reciprocal yearning for him. Each of those is a reason for me not being able to give my all to a crowd of strangers tonight.

I hate to let anyone down, but trust Bart to have it covered.

In the distance I hear the sound of a vehicle turning up.

“Come back to the clubhouse.” Petty pulls slightly away so he can take hold of my hand.

Shuddering as I remember what happened when I went off on my own, my fingers grasp his as though he’s a lifeline. There’s no way I want to go home. Seems I always find snakes there.

I thought I’d be safe once Saul was killed, but then Thorne took me instead. I’m starting to wonder whether there’s anyone else waiting in the wings. Petty might not want me out of his sight, but unless I’m forced away, I’ve no desire to leave.

As we walk around the front of the dilapidated building, the SUV pulls up. Watching Petty gingerly pull himself inside, I remember how injured he is, and feel dreadful I’ve not asked.

“Oh my God, Petty,” I start, as I, too, ease myself inside. “How the hell are you even walking around?”

He chuckles softly. “The adrenaline from knowing you were missing helped for a start, as well as the painkillers I’ve been using.” He winks at me. “Let’s just say it’s safest that I don’t drive.”

The SUV hits a bump eliciting a swear word from him. I realise now the adrenaline’s wearing off, Petty’s level for pain tolerance is probably crashing as well.

Meat’s obviously heard and takes it as carefully as he can while we continue to the clubhouse. Once we’ve arrived, Petty looks like a clock that’s run down as he exits the car, walking stiffly and holding one arm over his ribs to protect himself.

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