“You even think about it, Katie, and so help me God, I will make sure you regret it. I have a headache from fucking hell after getting my skull bashed in by that magazine rack, and I’m not gonna put up with anymore of your shit.”
I want to at least make a run for it, but with the agony in my leg, I know it wouldn’t do any good. “I hate you,” I grumble, then get up in the jeep. My leg protests even that small feat, and I grimace from the pain.
“The feeling is starting to be mutual,” he growls, then makes a hard U-turn, squealing my tires.
I grab ahold of the dashboard, trying to brace myself. “Will you slow down? This isn’t the Daytona Speedway!”
“Shut up, Katie.”
I don’t respond. Something about the tone of his voice tells me it wouldn’t be wise to prod him. I’ve survived knowing how far I can go. I haven’t always listened to the warning in my head, but I’m still here. I guess I should trust my instincts. Instead of going off on him like I want, I sit quietly and rub my leg. It’s cramping and I’ve been without any type of medication for a couple days. The pain is intense.
“Are you even listening to me?” asks Torch, jarring me out of my thoughts.
“I thought you told me to shut up,” I respond.
“I asked what’s wrong with your leg?”
“It hurts.”
“Jesus, does everything have to be like pulling teeth with you?”
“I’m sorry I’m not more accommodating to the man who is intent on taking away the freedom it took my whole life to gain.”
That makes him go silent. Good. He can chew on that for a little while.
“Sweetness, I know you don’t believe me, but we aren’t going to hurt you.”
“You might not be planning on it, but you will.”
“Skull deserves to see his child, Katie. Beth and he need to talk.”
“He doesn’t deserve shit. He lost that chance when he turned his back on her when she almost died. She needed him there. He decided to send her money and a nice goodbye note with a picture of him and his new woman.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just let it go. Nothing I tell you will make you change your mind.”
“Skull would never do that, Katie. Jesus Christ, I don’t think the man has been with a woman since Beth’s been gone.”
“Yeah, I’m buying that.”
“I’m telling you it’s the truth. I mean, there might have been a few while he was grieving and drunk off his ass, but there’s been no one he’s bothered having a repeat performance with.”
“Oh well, that makes it all better.”
“What the fuck did you expect? He thought she was dead! He thought he killed her!”
“And I’m saying he knew better! I’m saying that while Beth was delivering her daughter, she almost died. I called to let him know that she needed him, and one of your brothers hung up on me!” I’m watching his face the entire time, so I see the exact moment when his face changes. “Oh my God. It was you. You’re the fucker who hung up on me that night!”
“We thought she was dead,” he says. “We thought—”
“I know what you thought. I know exactly what you thought.”
“Katie…”
“You and your brother both thought you could send Bethie a goodbye package that would rip out her heart and a hundred thousand thrown in the mix and you’d be done with us.”
“I’m telling you, Skull didn’t do that.”
“And I’m telling you, I was there so I know he did.”
“I give up. I can’t win with you. While you’re sitting over there being a bitch and being mad at the world, Katie, why don’t you ask yourself one question? Why don’t you ask yourself why, if Skull was in such a hurry to get rid of Beth and his child a couple of years ago, he would even bother trying to find them now? And while you’re puzzling over that one, why don’t you remember who the fuckers are that have given you and Beth so much trouble from day one. Because I think if you remember that, you might discover that person has never been a member of the Devil’s Blaze.”
I stare at the window and ignore him, or at least I’m trying to appear that way. The problem is, he’s making sense. Could the package have not been from Skull? Does it even matter? The picture in it, Bethie confirmed, was Skull. I lay my head against the window of the jeep and close my eyes. I’m tired of thinking. I’m tired of fighting—at least for now.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” I whisper to Katie as I’m picking her up in my arms. She’s been sleeping all evening. I woke her up so we could grab some drive-thru. She ate, then went back out.