Page 65 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

Memories of a club named Infernos burning down late last year replace the twinkle of a gold tooth in that bouncer’s smirk. Flames melting thick steel beams replace the gleam of Graham’s smile when we stepped into one of the ‘show’ rooms.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.” I pump soap into my hands and slide my fingers together. I was hurt in that club, and when I said no more, I learned firsthand how scary it was to have a knife pressed to my throat.

Do as you’re told, you dirty little bitch.

I used to be strong; strong willed, strong minded, strong bodied.

But each time I said no, their threats got meaner until they placed a loaded gun in my mouth and dared me to say it again.

The day that club burned down, the day Angelo ran through flames to save me, the way he was brandishing a scary gun and throwing me around the way others had in the pastshouldhave scared me.

He stood guard outside with that gun in his hand, his muscles bulging, while we waited for Jess and Kane to come out.

That gun should have terrified me, but it didn’t.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” I pump more soap into my hands and start again.

Think about Jess. Think about Kane, because he’s a scary marshmallow. Think about the pretty car I might call Wanda.

My hands grow rougher until my nails dig into my skin and leave red tracks.

Think about the cows – those we tipped, those we let escape, those we now consider a pet.

I need to pull myself together.

I need to fucking stop!

Sonia hasn’t sent me away yet because she only sees half of my crazy. She doesn’t see my middle of the night freak outs. She doesn’t see the tracks of blood along my arms from my nails, or the gross scabs on my stitches because I continue to pick and wash.

Pick and wash.

Pick and wash.

I slam the taps off with a cry, then work the hand towel over them until my cracked knuckles bleed. Too much washing means they’re so dried out, they crack.

Which makes them bleed.

Which makes them dirty.

Which makes me wash them again.

I toss the white towel into the hamper and purposely ignore the blood smears. Pushing into the hall, instead of going to my room, instead of going downstairs to get a drink, I race to Jess’ door and pray they’re decent. I ignore the light switch and use the moonlight shining through the window to lead my way.

I know which side of the bed is Jess’, but even if they switched sides, I don’t even care.

Miraculously, Kane doesn’t scare me.

“Jessie?” I push her shoulder. “Jessie! Wake up. Ah!” Pain screams through my wrist when a strong hand yanks my arm back.

I cry out when he folds my arm behind my back, but with a “Motherfuck!” the lamps switch on and the hand releases me. “Laine?” Kane sits up in bed with a gun in his left hand and his right on Jess’ hip. “Fuck, woman! What the hell are you thinking?”

“Laine?” Jess sits up and pulls the covers over her bare chest. “You wanna snug?”

“Blondie! You’re not gonna ask about her attacking you in your sleep? Just gonna flip straight to snuggling? Fuck.” He pulls his blankets higher, forcing a deep blush to cover my face.

“Oh my God. You’re both naked.” I stand and back away. “Ew. Okay.”

“Ew?” Stopping, Kane draws in a shaky breath as though to pull his anger under control. “Okay, hold on.” Turning, he slams the dangerous gun on the bedside table and runs a rough hand over his face. “Fuck. You got my adrenaline running. I’m not the kinda guy you wanna sneak up on in the middle of the night.”

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