Page 14 of Hair, She Bears
“I won’t say anything.”
“That wasn’t the favor.” He set her down, then grabbing the sack from the floor, and stuffed the grapes into the bottom. The sound of the motorcycles intensified, their thunderous roar echoed in the compound. He glanced up, an apology in his eyes.
“You need to give me the necklace.”
She took a step backward and shook her head, her hand flying to the charm.
“You gave it to me.”
“And I will give it back after my father leaves.” His gaze flicked to the window. “We don’t have much time.”
Lifting her hand to the clasp, with trembling fingers, she unhooked the necklace and dropped it into the sack. Malik’s eyes softening, he took her hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a gentle kiss across her knuckles.
“I’m not going anywhere. You owe me dinner, remember?”
She sank her teeth into her lower lip and nodded. The rumble of motorcycles vibrating through the tower, she gave Malik a shove toward the staircase. His heavy boots pounded on the steps as he sprinted toward the bedchamber.
Spinning around, she spied the tank top Malik had draped over the side of the sofa, grabbed the shirt, and wadded it into a ball just as Mother appeared beneath the staircase. She gasped and stumbled backward, bumping into the back of the sofa. Her gaze skipped up the stairs and stopped at the thin curtain covering the loft. It fluttered in the gentle afternoon breeze.
“What is that?” Mother stepped forward from the shadows, and his face contorted with rage.
Zenna glanced down at the shirt. “Blood.”
“Whose is it?” Mother advanced, cracking his knuckles.
“M-M-Malik’s.”
“Why is it on your shirt?” His fingers closed around the cloth, and he jerked it from her fingers.
“You threw him against a wall.”
“Did I?” Mother snickered, flinging the crumpled shirt at the sofa, where it landed on top of her knife. He walked to the window and stared out at the approaching evening. “Malik was to give you a message.”
“He said you were delayed and would return later than expected to collect the vials.” Zenna took one step toward him, placing her body between Mother and the staircase. “Then he left.”
Mother spun around, his eyes dark. “I don’t believe you.”
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Zenna swallowed, a bead of sweat slid down her back. “Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know.” Mother tilted his head. “But I have a theory, shall we test it?”
Without waiting for Zenna’s response, Mother lunged forward and grabbed her by her shirt, his fingers crushing the thin material. Rotating his hand, he wound the shirt around his fist, lifted her from her feet, and flung her at the armoire. She smashed into the unforgiving wood and crashed to the floor, rolling in agony. A whimper crawled from her throat and floated toward the rafters, the only sound in the small chamber. The curtain fluttered.
Mother strode across the room and stopped at the base of the staircase, his hand gripping the banister. He turned and flashed an ominous smile at Zenna. Lifting one boot, he set it onto the first stair. The wooden step groaned under his weight. He hesitated, frozen halfway on the step.
“It wasn’t built to support someone of your stature,” she said, grimacing as she pushed up on trembling arms.
“You should know better than to insult me.” He spun around, abandoning the staircase, and flowed toward her.
She curled away from his ire. “I was warning you.”
Crouched beside her, his arm whipped out, and two thick fingers closed around her chin. Wrenching her head toward him, he dug his nails into her skin.
“I know you are hiding something from me.” His deep growl sent a shiver down her spine.
Mother would drag the truth from her, and the punishment for hiding Malik would be far worse than being tossed at furniture. Her gaze flicked to the back of the tower, landing on the empty mortar, and immediately returned to Mother’s scowl.
