Page 47 of Together We Burn
“I promise, Stevie, I’ve got your back. It’s you and me always, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, knowing that’s the truth in my heart.
A loud, long beep and a bright flashing light pulled me from my childhood memories. With a gasp, I swerved away from the oncoming car and pulled up on the hard shoulder. Putting the car in park, I slammed my head into my hands. My breaths were ragged as my shoulders stiffened, and I found it difficult to breathe.
Wrenching the car door open, I stumbled out as the wind howled around the trees beside me. Slamming the door shut to keep Rocky inside, I made toward the forest line, away from any traffic, even though the road is deserted thanks to the thunderstorm.
The sky crackled with thunder and lit up with lightning as I threw my first punch into a trunk of a tree. Pain radiated across my knuckles and up my arm as a gut-wrenching cry tore from my lungs. My heart squeezed painfully as the words in the letter played over in my head.
“They are not your friends.
They are not people to be trusted.
They are liars, manipulators,and thieves.”
My breathing was ragged as I clutched either side of the tree, resting my forehead against the wet bark as the rain soaked through my thin tank top, making it cling to my back when the realisation hit me. I am the way I am because of them.
I needed help after I shot my half-brother and Will gave it to me with one never-ending string attached. Sell my soul to him as payment for hiding my sins.
Do I regret killing Ronan? Hell no. I’d happily bring him back from the dead to do it all over again. Maybe if I didn’t have such a hot temper, things would have been different. But then I would have still needed their help to hide Chris, get her somewhere safe, away from that paedophile, and let her live a happy life with her son. No matter what action I took, I would have still ended up relying on them, needing them, turning to them.
The perfect opportunity to use me, groom me, turn me into a loyal soldier under the pretence of helping me. I could have had a normal life, a normal job, have normal emotions like a fucking normal person.
Lots of people have crappy childhoods like mine and still manage to grow up to have regular lives, work regular nine-to-five jobs, have regular families with love and laughter and happiness. They don’t become fucking assassins with more kills than notches on their bed post.
This job doesn’t end. There isn’t an expiration date. There will never be a notice period, last day, or even a retirement party. I am in this for life, forever under the thumb of the Jones family and all because I thought they were my friends.
Light flooded my surroundings, and my fists met the bark three more times, unable to care about anything–the pain, the rain, or whoever had pulled over.
The opening and closing of a car door sounded, followed by squelching footsteps, until someone stopped a couple of steps behind me.
“Stefany.”
Spinning, I pulled my gun from my waistband and cocked it, breathing so heavily that my shoulders rose and fell with every breath. Jake raised his hands and closed the gap. Taking the gun from my hand, he clicked the safety and put it in his jacket pocket. He touched my bloodied hands, holding them in his, the act reminding me of Alex causing my resolve to break.
Why did it need to be Jake who saw my cracks, the raw wounds I couldn’t heal?
Scooping me up, I buried my face in Jake’s chest and fisted his raincoat tightly in my hands. He started walking, carrying me to his SUV, then carefully maneuvered into the passenger seat with me in his lap.
Cupping a large hand around my head, the other secured around my back as he held me, allowing me to sob uncontrollably for the second time in my life in his arms.
“What did the letter say?” he asked, his thumb brushing back and forth against my scalp.
I couldn’t respond. Offering a heavy sigh, Jake tightened his hold and began rubbing small, comforting circles on my back.
We sat like that for a while, listening to the rain in silence as he continued to keep me close to his body. Eventually, when the tears stopped, and my breathing had evened out, Jake shifted and said, “I’m going to get Rocky and move your car.”
“Can you get my bag from the trunk?” I asked.
“Of course, baby.”
Placing a kiss to the top of my head, he slid out from under me, set me on the seat, and exited the car, only to quickly open the backdoor quickly and groan as he lifted my large dog into the back.
Opening my door again, he shrugged off his coat and gently placed it over me, wrapping the corners over my shoulders like a backward cape. Then, just as he’d said, he disappeared to move my car, so it looked less abandoned.
“I’m going to take you to my place, okay?” he asked when he returned. Leaning over the centre console, he placed his fingers under my chin, turning my head to face him. The blues in his eyes, which were usually dark with desire whenever I was with him, were like ice. Cold and unyielding. Unable to meet his stare for long, I dropped my gaze and nodded.
Closing the distance, he lightly touched my lips with his, then drew back and said, “You’ve been drinking.”
