I look to Scribe and wait as he gives me the information on Pinch.
“We found out he’s staying in a cabin out by the caves on the east side of town.” He hands me a paper with pics of Pinch and where he’s at. “I tracked him down thanks to one of his dealers. Guess he’s holing up in that cabin, using until he can’t anymore. Didn’t take a lot to get the dealer to talk. Said Pinch owed him, too. Sounds to me he’s got blowback coming from a lot of places. It’s just a matter of time before he ends up six feet under.”
“Okay,” is all I say as I put the paper in my pocket.
“We ready?” Scribe asks, and I shake my head.
“You’re staying here with Izzy. I need to make sure she’s protected while I’m gone. I’m gonna take Savage.”
“Ready when you are.”
Savage’s words come from behind me, and I almost want to laugh. How that giant motherfucker sneaks up on anyone, I’ll never know.
“You good with staying, Scribe?” I ask, wanting to make sure we’re all on the same page.
“Yeah, no worries. I’ve got some raiding to catch up on.” He pulls out his phone and starts to tap on it intently as he heads towards my office.
“Do you know what that means?” I ask Savage. I never get what Scribe is talking about.
“No. I’ve got my Shortcake. I don’t have time for anything else.”
“I need things to go different tonight than how we talked about,” I say, putting on my gun and cut.
Savage looks at me as if to ask if it has anything to do with Izzy. I just silently nod my head, and he nods back in understanding. Our silent conversations always say what we can’t out loud.
“I got your back,” Savage says as he straps up and walks out.
As he heads out the back and I follow behind him, I’m thinking of Izzy. I’m not even out of the building and I’m ready to be back here and with her. I need this part to be over. I’m ready to make her mine in every way.
9
Izzy
I stand there staring at the locked door, praying Lucias is good for his word. That he’ll find my brother and keep him safe. I glance over at the laptop and debate trying to use it again as I now know the password, but I come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be helpful. Lucias is my only hope at this point, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt me, even after I shot one of his own people. More like he wanted to bang my brains out.
My face warms at the reminder of what I did to him this morning. The mark I’d left on his neck almost like a brand. I reach out to the door handle and try to turn it but the deadbolt is secured. He needed a key to lock and unlock it. I don’t have plans to leave, but I do want out of this room. I wonder if Casper is here, or if she’s left for home. It looked like this place had multiple bedrooms when Lucias carried me up to his room last night. I’d like to check on her. The guilt from shooting her is sitting in the pit of my stomach.
I might have had reason, but hurting people just isn’t me. I’ve spent a big chunk of my life learning to heal, and this is something that will sit with me for a while. I make my way over to the dresser and dig through the contents. I find a pair of boxers and pull them on. I have to roll the top a million times just so they won’t fall off me. I’ve rolled them so much they don’t really help with hiding my legs like I wanted.
I dig into another drawer and find a shirt. I slide it on. Marines is written across the chest, and it hits almost to my knees, covering a lot more than my shirt did. Was Lucias a Marine? I really don’t know much about this man. When he came into the clinic, I avoided him because of the things he made me feel. He also scared me a little after the run-in I’d had with a few motorcycle guys my brother brought home.
Part of me wants to chastise myself for grouping him in with the men I’d seen with my brother, but I also need to remember Lucias had plans to hurt my brother. That he’d sent someone to break into my home, and now I’m locked in his bedroom and he keeps referring to me as his property. I want to smack him every time he says it, and I’m not sure if it’s because I like it, which makes me mad, or that I’m just mad at him for saying it.
I start searching through all his drawers looking for something to pick the lock with. I come up empty. The only things he seems to have in here are clothes, a few handguns, and his laptop. I’m oddly happy that all I find in his night stand is a handgun and not a half empty box of condoms. In fact, I don’t find any at all. Either he was telling the truth about not bringing women here, or he just doesn’t use protection.