Katrina's face is still etched in fury and anger, but her fingers relax, and Samuel coughs, a little bit of blood dotting his lips as he does. He starts to raise his head and Katrina throws a palm strike, catching him between the eyes and bouncing his head off the floor, knocking him out. “Fine.”
Katrina gets up, her knees shaky as she looks down on her father's laid out frame, and I hold her carefully, supporting her as she starts to walk away. The door to the bedroom finally gets opened and Theresa comes out, running to her husband and looking back at us in an expression that's so pathetic and miserable I actually feel slightly sorry for her. “How can you do this to your own father?”
“My father died ten years ago... along with my mother,” Katrina whispers. “I swear to you, though, you two will pay for what you did. If I were you... I'd start running before he even wakes up.”
“Come on, Katrina,” I say softly, holding her arms. “We don't need to be here any longer.”
We leave, and I have to half-carry her to the stairs, where she starts to recover, brushing my hands off. We run down the stairwell and out the gate, not stopping until we're around the corner. Slowing, we begin walking, Katrina looking straight ahead. “You okay?”
“No.” Her voice is steel-hard, her eyes emotionless. I look down, and see that her hands are balled up, her forearms still tense and corded with effort at restraining herself.
Okay, fine. I understand that, and that's what I'm here for right now, helping her when she's not totally in her right mind. “Let's get back to the hotel, figure out what to do next.”
“The Metro station's just up the street.”
We walk in silence for a little bit, and I feel more confident as we put some distance between us and the apartment that we're not going to have Miami-Dade cops come rolling up to arrest us. Part of me is turned on, Katrina was so sexy and beautiful as she unleashed only the smallest bit of retribution on her father. However, it was scary too, watching her so close to going over the edge.
“Jackson,” Katrina says as we reach the station, and I still can see in her eyes a lot of steely hardness, but also a hint of my Katrina coming back.
“Yeah, Katrina?” I ask, taking out my wallet to pay the ticket machine.
“Back there, talking to me. You were right.”
I put the money in the machine and look at Katrina, who's still got her hands balled up. “I swear to you that you will get them. And Peter.”
Katrina nods once. “Let's get back to the hotel.”
Chapter 21
Kat
I hold it together pretty well on the ride back to the hotel, although I need Jackson to open all the doors for me. I can't get my hands to unclench, and I know I'm still stalking as we walk up the stairs to the second floor to our room. It's only once we're inside that I start to tremble, and I look around, looking for something I can vent my rage and fury on.
Jackson notices, and grabs one of the cushions from the room's chair, holding it against his body like a shield. “Go ahead, let it out.”
My first punch isn't enough to satisfy me, so I punch again, and again, and again. I'm losing count, my hands barely cushioned by the foam Jackson's holding as my hits thud against his body. I know he’s taking some of the blows, but he nods, encouraging me as the tears start to flow.
“The motherfucker!” I yell in between punches. “How could they just lie to me like that? How could they look me in the eye and lie?”
“I don't know, Katrina,” Jackson says, wincing again as I punch him directly in the chest through the cushion. “I'm sorry.”
“No, they're the ones who are going to be sorry!” I yell back, punching again. Jackson takes a step back, and I follow, raining punches into the cushion. “I'm going to see them both in jail for this! I'm going to destroy them! I'm going to... argh!”
The dam finally breaks inside me, and the tears start. Jackson puts his hands on my shoulders, but it only makes me cry harder. “It's okay, Katrina,” Jackson tries to reassure me, but the tears won't stop. I sit back, sobbing at all the pain and loss, but Jackson slides down next to me, wrapping his arms around me and holding me closely. “It's okay, Katrina.”
I clutch at him, crying for untold minutes until I'm able to pull myself together again. “Why, Jackson? Why'd they do it?”
“It doesn't matter, Katrina,” Jackson says softly, his strong arms holding me safe and secure. “It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're who you are, and that's pretty damn amazing.”
I sniff and feel fresh tears as I think of the lies. “Then why don't they love me?”
“I don't know, and it doesn't matter,” Jackson says again. His fingers come to my chin, and he turns my face to look into his eyes. He's close again, and this time, there's no denying what we want and need.
Our lips touch, hesitant at first, but it feels so right, and it becomes stronger. My hand comes up to his neck and we grow deeper, our tongues coming out to caress each other. I'm lost, and I've never felt this before, never felt this level of trust and desire inside my body.