Page 30 of Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

“When can we start the cleanup?” I ask Officer Drinkswine.

“We’ve gotten everything I think we can. So you’re good.” That, he says to me, then he turns to Liv. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Ms. Baxter. We’ll catch him—that’s my promise to you.”

Liv tries to give him a smile, but we all can see how forced and pained it is for her to even pretend. Drinkswine leaves us to talk with another cop.

Bag still in hand, I lift Liv and carry her to the passenger seat of my truck, slide her in and click the seatbelt. She still has that damn broken hula girl clutched so tightly to her chest, the sharp edge of plastic sliced into her finger, covering her skin, her top and the plastic in blood.

Shit.

“Come on, Liv.” I coax the broken pieces from her grip. Her whimpers fill the cab as I set it inside the center console, then open up the glovebox for the small first aid kit. After a half a minute of holding gauze to the wound, I rip open a packet of antibiotic ointment at the corner with my teeth and spit the corner of aluminum packet onto the floor while squeezing a dollop of clear ointment on the pads of two bandages, and then I wrap those around her cut.

We drive back to Virginia Beach, a city big enough that Michael might find it hard to locate us right away. He’ll do it—find us. I suffer no illusions on that—suffernoillusions. Back with Liv for less than a week and I’m thinking like her again. She’s that much a part of me.

Since we’ll be here for a while and I don’t want too many people knowing our location, I pay a week upfront for an extended stay hotel. A nicer one, lots of business suits milling around.

After the day we’ve had, Liv and I need to chill. To hold each other snuggled on the bed until we forget the bullshit or pass out, whichever comes first. I’m anxious for us to check out the room. There’s a full kitchen with pots, pans and utensils—dishes and flatware.

All good there, I check out the security. Camera locations and angles. When the side doors lock for the night so anyone entering the building after a certain time has to use the front lobby doors or use a room keycard to get in, and when the security shift switches up.

The night auditor who runs the desk third shift is a woman. As is the receptionist on duty now.

It pans out, so I’m comfortable with Liv and me leaving to drive the twenty minutes, or four busy traffic stops, to one of those superstores. Turning into the large parking lot, I manage to find a spot semi-close to the front doors. A small flock of seagulls feasting on a spilled bucket of popcorn scattered all over the blacktop flap their wings and squawk angrily as the truck’s tires force them away from their meal.

We buy a week’s worth of groceries and grab us both clothing and personal items—toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant and other sundries.

On the way out of the store I casually sweep the parking lot without letting Liv in on what I’m doing. I don’t want to freak her out.

There’s a guy checking her out from the front seat of an SUV. He turns away when I catch his eye. The guy doesn’t fit the description of Michael. His is the only eye I catch.

We drive back to the hotel and carry the bags up to the room. Although Liv takes her share, I look like a pack mule. Totally worth it to keep my Liv safe.

While she spends her time unloading bags, clipping off tags and hanging some shirts in the closet before moving on to fold the rest and put them into the drawers and set the bathroom crap up in the bathroom, I take care of the kitchen. Simple fare tonight, just burgers and fries. I’ve missed cooking for Liv. Hell, I’ve missed cooking with her. All part of the plan in getting her back to good.

Before she comes out of the bedroom, I make a quick call to Blood.

“She okay?” he asks.

The phone I prop between my ear and shoulder to keep the sticky fat from the beef patties I’ve been forming from mucking up the screen or case. And I flop a couple into the frying pan. “The fuck’s not just a fuck, he’s a sick fuck, brother.”

“You need us? Brothers’ll ride out in the morning.” It’s cool for him to offer, why I joined the Lords—they always have my back. I’ve always got theirs.

“Liv’s not ready for that.”

“She’s got to get over her shit. Things have turned, brother. Shits me to tell you, but after the fuck killed Jesse, he went after Caity and her little girl. It’s not safe, you need your brothers looking out. That’s fact.”

Perfect. Something else to fucking worry about. “That’s why I’m here, to get her over her shit. I’ll call if I need you. But I don’t want her running again.”

“Hey, babe, that smells delicious,” Liv calls out to me as she leaves the bathroom.

“Gotta go. But I’ll be in touch,” I say to my best friend before I hang up.

Things have turned. It’s not safe. Fuck.

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