Page 47 of Scotch: Unraveled

Brothers at my back, I move quietly from the outbuilding to the door and gently check the knob to see if it’s locked. It twists in my fingers and I crack the seal. There’s more light inside than out, but it doesn’t flood through the inch or so I pull it open. They’re keeping the lights dim in that area, which works in our favor.

I slide inside, not having to look over my shoulder because I know my brothers are with me.

There’s a Horde infestation.

Time for duck and cover.

Time to get my family back.

18.

Frankie

They must have a huge order to fill because I haven’t seen this many men since I woke up here.

And as gross as it is, even with my body broken from that asshat Rodrick, I see a lot of men giving me eyes. What kind of low-class caveman do you have to be to put eyes on a woman with a broken wrist, limp leg, broken nose, cuts and bruises on like every part of her body and unable to stand straight because of probable broken ribs?

Hell, I suppose my nether regions are the only part of me in full working order. What else do guys need?

One of them, a disturbingly handsome guy, keeps following me both literally and with his eyes, but what I notice the most is that granola bar he keeps taking small bites from like mouth porn. My stomach growls. I lick my lips. If he thinks it means more than what it does, so be it. My last bowl of soup was like a day ago.

I’ve never hit on a guy, so looking like I’ve been crushed under a dump truck that was driven off the top of the Empire State Building and managed to survive, I’m not feeling my most confident, but I need food and my babies need more formula and diapers. Then I need to check on Brighton.

Standing up to my full height as much as possible, I attempt to saunter, to look somewhat sexy, but sauntering doesn’t really work when you’re hobbling and dragging a lame foot behind you.

As his eyes go wide and they settle with heat, I figure I chose correctly. It feels like a million lifetimes go by before I reach him, which means my word come out breathier than I mean it to be when I say, “Hi.”

The breathy works.

“Hey,” he says back.

There’s longing in my eyes, but it’s for his food, not him. I love Rory. I’d been foolish enough to hope that this time would be our time, that we’d have forever, but if giving myself over to this guy means I can save my girls and Brighton, then that’s what I have to do.

He chuckles. It sounds nice.Really nice.I mean, he’s taller than average, broad shoulders, lean hips and powerfully built thighs. Thick, wavy black hair and closer to a six o’clock shadow rather than five o’clock cover his cheeks, chin and upper lip. His eyes are a shade lighter than his hair and that works really well with the olive in his skin tone. If he weren’t a Horde, I’d introduce him to Brighton.

My fear is that because heisHorde, he’ll eventually make his way to Brighton, and she’s good. She’s kind. She’s fun and funny and doesn’t deserve to be used and abused by a man who, judging by his choice of friends, is likely to use and abuse a woman because he can.

“Got another one of those?” I ask, pointing to his bar.

He smiles at me and I prepare to hear him respond with, “What will you give me for it?” Or some version of that. What I don’t expect to hear him say is simply, “Sure,” before digging into his pocket to withdraw a bar and hand it over. He doesn’t even toss it to the floor to make me scramble for it like an animal and give him a laugh. He simply hands it off. I tear into the wrapper, biting into the tastiest peanut-butter-and-chocolate-chip granola bar ever processed in the history of the world.

“Slow down there. You’re gonna make yourself sick,” he admonishes with what sounds like actual concern. This doesn’t make any sense. He’s a Horde. A freaking Devil’s Horde.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

He points to the name patch. “They call me Vlad.”

I don’t want to ask, but I have to. Despite everything going on around me, it’s a moral imperative to ask him, “Why do they call you ‘Vlad’?”

He smiles again. “BecauseImma impale her.”

And that’s when it happens. I bite my lips to hold in the laugh until it turns to crying. I needed this release. I’m scared and I’m hurt. My best friend is hurt. All I want is for the four of us to be safe, the girls and I sleeping in my giant bed at Rory’s.

“My girls, they’re running out of formula and are probably running out of diapers. Please, we need help. I need to see Brighton, to see how she’s doing. Rodrick hurt her. I’ll… I’ll doanything—” I drop my voice on the word ‘anything’ to let him know without saying the words what I’ll be willing to do in return for his help. “Anything you want if you take care of things for us. Full participation. You have my word.”

He gives me a strange look that I can’t read, especially considering that he’s a Horde. The Horde, I’ve found, don’t give meaningful looks unless they’re of the anger or hatred kind.

“Keep away from Rodrick; he’s unbalanced. What size diapers do the girls wear?”

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