My shoulders ache with tension. What would I do had Trix not confided in me? If Raven and Jonah weren’t willing to help? I’d never find her. “Thanks for this, Rave, I—”
“I kept all this stuff, hoping that I might be able to use it to fix some of the damage that Dominick caused.” She shoots me a quick look from over her shoulder, the usual light of her unique blue-green eyes now cold and determined. “We’re going to find her, and then we’re going to turn in everyone responsible so they can’t hurt anyone else.”
Hurt? Is she hurt?
My knee bounces with the urgency to get to her.
I don’t know what Gia’s gotten herself into or why she’d end up hanging around a guy who split her cheek. The same biker dick and former henchman for the man who locked her up in a mental institution. My head spins with information. Too many questions, but all that I’ll make sure to get answers for when I find her.
After I hold her.
And kiss her.
And tell her I love her.
Twenty-four
Counting down the days until I get my revenge.
I’m not a murderer, but the man has to pay
Pay for what he did to Rex
Pay for what he did to me.
Freedom lies in the death of Dominick Morretti.
--Mac, Age 20
Mac
Friday night and still no Hatch. He took off on MC business a week ago and never came back. He said it would be an overnight.
The other guys that come in and out of the compound have been whispering. Something about a job going wrong. Was Hatch involved? Is he dead?
My muscles twitch; every jump sends pain through my bones. Cross-legged on the bed, I rock back and forth. I grab the corners of the blanket and pull it tight around my shoulders. If he never comes back, what will happen to me? I’m tired, but can’t sleep without the nightmares. Worse than ever, they crash over me and I wake up in a pool of sweat.
Can’t. Stop. Shaking.
I need to move. Walk. Run. Sleep. Fuck, I don’t know what to do.
I’ve never gone this long without a hit. Nausea roils my belly, and I swallow back the vomit that threatens. The sweat-soaked sheets rub against my naked skin like razor blades. Everything hurts. How long can I go on like this? My teeth chatter with cold. I hear the raucous voices of some guys filter through the door. Maybe they’ll have something. Anything.
I have no money, but that hasn’t stopped me from getting what I need in other ways. My spine feels like knifed jackhammers are dancing up and down it. I’m in hell.
My eyelids drop closed. I imagine that I’m in Rex’s arms, that he’s kissing my head and telling me everything’s going to be okay. I pretend he loves me. My muscles relax a tiny bit, and I absorb the comfort of my imagined Rex.
A stream of moisture falls from the corner of my eye, followed by another. I pinch my eyes closed tighter, trying to block out the sadness.
“I miss you so much.” My dry lips form the words, but my voice sounds as dead as I feel.
All I wanted to do was love him. Even loving him from a distance is better than being without him at all. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve seen him. Drugs have fogged my sense of time and my will to care.
It’s pointless to continue to deny what’s happening to me.
What I’m doing to myself.
Ever since I left Rex’s condo, I’ve been on the slow path to suicide. Just because I don’t pull out a gun and end it doesn’t make it any less of what it is, the slow death of a weak woman.
Admitting it releases a long, relieving breath. Yeah, I’ve known it all along. Hooking up with Hatch, pretending it was because he cared, took care of me . . . what a joke. I knew on some level this lifestyle would end up killing me.
With a sudden clarity, my eyes pop open. This is it, the end of my pain, my longing for a person who hates me, my lifelong quest for redemption that ended in the ultimate persecution. A death sentence.
And I don’t want to go on another day without him.
I hurt from the core of my being, and my soul claws against my flesh. My stomach lurches, and I hang my head off the side of the bed. A dirty pair of Hatch’s jeans is bunched at the base of the rickety side table. I focus on the pocket where a small vial pokes out just above the seam.
I push with my toes and stretch my arm over to fish it out. I grip the cold glass in my fevered, quaking hand and curl into a ball around. A war rages in my body, part hunger and need destroying what’s left of my fight to survive. But the battle is short-lived as the chemical dependency roars its unwavering demand.
Grabbing the mirrored plate from the side table, I roll to my stomach and pour out a short line. It looks a little different, darker, but I’m too desperate to care. I lick my lips and bring the powder to my nose. It takes all the strength I have left to steady my hand.
The addiction takes over and I’m helpless. Like watching myself from across the room, I stare in horror as the drug is sucked into my body. My head arches back, a moan of ecstasy pours from my lips. Relief, instant and aggressive. This is different and so much better, not the usual high, but rather a soothing low that makes me drop my forehead to the bed.