Unknown: So we’re no longer talking?
Unknown: Did I scare u that bad?
Unknown: Quit being a f**king cunt and text me back.
Greyson: Just checking in on u.
Unknown: U know I should have killed u when I had the chance.
Dizziness overtakes me as I read the last one and have to reach for the bed for support, but end up stumbling and grabbing onto Luke’s shoulder instead.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks worriedly, his hand grasping onto my hip to hold me upright.
I shake my head, staring over his shoulder at the wall, unable to look him in the eye. “It’s nothing.” My voice is hoarse as I clutch onto the phone and also his shoulder.
Luke’s hand slides up my side, to my neck, then ultimately he cups my chin in his hand and makes me look at him. “What was on your phone?”
“Nothing.” I’m struggling to breathe, images of that night flashing through my mind. Is it his mother texting me? Or the other person? The man? The one I never saw?
Luke swallows hard, fighting some kind of inner rage. “Is it Preston? Because I won’t let him do anything to you. I promise.”
“It’s not Preston,” I say, finally subsiding down on the bed beside him and frown down at my phone. “You remember that guy, Stan the reporter?”
He nods, listening intently. “Has he been bothering you again?”
“I don’t think it’s him,” I say, unsure what else to say. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to talk about the killer and my parent’s deaths when his mother was part of it? And when she could be the one sending the texts. “Honestly, I don’t think it’s a reporter at all, with the things that they’re saying.”
“What kind of things?” His hand finds my thigh, his fingers grazing up and down it, not in a sexual way but a comforting way.
I close my eyes and give him the phone. “Scroll through the texts from the unknown number.” I remain sitting with my eyes shut, listening to his breathing quicken.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath and I open my eyes, hovering back at the fury in his brown eyes, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists, clutching the crap out of my phone. “You have no idea who sent this to you? At all?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been getting little things off and on from reporters ever since the case was reopened, but this takes things to a whole new level.”
“How long has it been going on?” He struggles to keep his voice even and his anger under control. I’m sort of worried that he’s going to chuck my phone, with how hard he’s gripping it.
“They started up yesterday, right before I went to Geraldson’s,” I tell him. “I need to call Detective Stephner and report it.” I pause, reluctant to ask, but needing to do it. “Luke,” I swallow hard, “You don’t think it could be your… your mother, could it?” Finally, the large elephant that’s been hanging out between us has been acknowledged. But it makes the tension between us even worse, if that’s possible, especially when Luke remains quiet for what feels like forever. His knuckles turn white from holding my phone so tightly and I swear he’s going to grind all his teeth away with how tight his jaw is set.
“I want to say no, but honestly, I have no idea,” he finally says through gritted teeth as he gives me back my phone. “She’s f**king crazy and I wouldn’t put it past her to do something like this.” He drags his free hand down his face then leans forward and reaches for his cigarettes in his bag. He pops one out of the pack, puts it into his mouth and lights up, his hand shaking as he flicks the lighter. After a good, long, drag, he seems to settle down, but the next words he utters are far from settling.
“I’ll f**king kill her if she touches you,” he says, flexing his fingers as if he’s fighting the desire to punch something, like he was doing to the wall back at the apartment.
I don’t know what to say. I know it’s wrong, the whole eye for an eye thing, but part of me wishes his mother was dead. But not by the hand of Luke. There’s no way I’d ever want him to carry that kind of burden or suffer the consequences for doing it.
“Hey.” I put a hand on his arm, his lean muscles flexing under my touch. “Relax. I’m not even sure if it’s her, okay? So let me call Detective Stephner and see what he can do about it.”
His gaze fastens on mine. “I’m sorry this had to happen to you.” Sincerity pours out of his eyes like hot liquid trying to drown me.
Great, now I want to cry. Jesus, what the hell is with these last few days? I must be getting ready to start my period or something.
Unable to speak, I get to my feet and call Detective Stephner. It sends me to his voicemail so I leave a message telling him to call me as soon as he can, that I’ve been getting threatening voice messages. When I hang up, Luke’s smoking his cigarette and watching me with a look of inquisitiveness.
“What can I do?” he says as I put my phone into my pocket. “Should I take you back home? Please, tell me what can help this.”
“Going home isn’t going to help.” I reach for my beer and take a long swig before speaking again. “If some creep is stalking me, it’s better that I’m not there anyway.”
“Well, then what do you want to do?” He gets up from the bed and moves toward me, stopping in front of me and holding with the cigarette out to the side of him. “You name it and we’ll do it.”
“We’re going to go get you your money,” I say persistently with my hands on my hips. “That’s what I want to do.”
He wavers with uneasiness, scattering ashes all over the carpet, but his uncle doesn’t seem like one to care since there was some all over the kitchen floor. “I’d rather you not come with me. It’s too sketchy where we’re going.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what’s really sketchy? Going to a crackhouse for your foster mother when you’re fourteen because she’s as high as a kite and can barely walk but is sober enough that she threatens to throw you out on the streets if you don’t. Personally, I think she just didn’t want to risk getting caught,” I say. His lips start to part, but before he can speak, I interrupt him. “And I didn’t say that for you to feel sorry for me. You just need to understand that I’m not some clueless girl that’s oblivious to the dark side of life. I don’t need your protection. I’ve seen it all,” I trace my finger up my arm. “And I have skin of steel, baby.”
With his gaze locked on mine, he brings his cigarette to his lips, sucks in, then moves it away, smoke snaking from his lips. “I understand that, but it doesn’t mean I want to protect you any less.” He leans in and brushes his lips against my cheek, smelling of cigarettes, cologne, and beer, all things that are Luke and for a moment all I can think is home. I want home to be with him again. The contact causes my skin to scorch and longing to swell inside me. It’s so brief, just a flutter of skin to skin, but it’s enough for me to remember how mind-numbingly good it felt to be with him. “I’m going to go talk to my uncle and see what time we’re leaving. If you really want to go, then be ready when I get back.”
I nod, fighting to keep my balance and keep standing as emotions prickle at my skin. Only when he walks out the door can I breathe freely again.
Chapter 8
Luke
I’ve never wanted to get into a fight more than I do right now. Someone threatening Violet like that is tearing me to shreds. Worse, there’s that stupid nagging voice in the back of my head¸ telling me it could be my mother. She’s crazy enough that if she’s somehow found out about Violet, she would do it.
I try to call her a few times as I’m waiting for my uncle to take us to The Warehouse, but of course the crazy woman doesn’t answer her phone. Sure, she can call me every f**king hour of the day, but when I actually need to talk to her, she won’t answer.
“Give me like a half an hour then we’ll head out,” my Uncle Cole says as I sit at the kitchen table, drinking another beer with Ryler, wishing for something harder but also wanting a clear head for what I’m about to do. Ryler has a notebook and pen in front of him, our form of communication, just like the last time we met. “You got front money, right?”
I nod, patting my pocket. “Yeah, about three thousand.”
Nodding, he starts for the stairway but then pauses in the doorway. “Luke, does your father know you’re here?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean I called him for your number, but didn’t tell him why. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him.”
“Well, I don’t think that’ll be a problem since he’s pretty much disowned me,” Cole says. “Ever since he went on a do-gooder streak a while ago.”
“That would make two of us.” I raise the beer to my lips and take a large gulp. Yeah, definitely going to need something harder.
Cole looks about as uncomfortable as I feel. Usually, I don’t say that kind of shit aloud. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m off my game. “Um… yeah… Luke I’m sorry about that. You know he tried to see you sometimes, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, peeling the label off my beer bottle. “Look, just forget I said anything.
He nods, letting it go easily. “I’m going to run up and change before we head out.”
Is your girl going? Ryler writes then leans back to throw his empty beer bottle in the trash.
I should correct him that Violet isn’t mine, but as far as he’s concern she is. “I guess so. I’m not a fan of bringing her, but she’s pretty stubborn.”
The pen scratches across the paper again. She looks pretty hardcore, Ryler writes. I’m sure she’ll be just fine.
His words gets under my skin, probably because he’s noticed her and made assumptions about her solely based on her appearance. Yeah, Violet comes off as tough and she’ll tell you the same, but I’ve seen her break apart in my arms.
But I drop it and head upstairs to see if Violet’s ready, but when I enter the room, I instantly wish I would have never came up here. Violet is standing there with only a towel wrapped around her, the bathroom door attached to the room wide open making the air muggy. She has her attention on her bag, her hair damp, her skin dewed with water. My fantasy for the last two months right in front of me.
The sight of her makes me want to rip off the towel and lick every inch of her skin but I make myself hover back at the door with my fists clenched at my side, mentally telling myself to calm the f**k down. “We’re going to take off in like thirty minutes,” I say, my voice strained.
She nods, not looking up. “What does one wear to a,” she glances up at me, “I’m assuming illegal poker game?”
I offer her a tight smile. “Whatever you want. You can wear those jeans and that t-shirt you were wearing earlier.” That outfit that covers you up.
Her nose crinkles as she looks down at her bag. “Nah, it’s too hot for that.” She bends down and God dammit that towel rides up her thighs so high that if I was behind her, I know I’d be able to get a view of her perfect ass. “I’m assuming that most of the girls there will be dressed all slutty?” She looks up at me again. “I mean, that is the general theme at these things, right?”
“Yeah, but I’d rather you don’t,” I tell her, growing the balls to step inside the room and shut the door. She raises her eyebrow with speculation. Sighing, I cross the room and crouch down in front of her, trying to ignore her near na**dness and the scent flowing off her, something fruity that makes me want to taste her. “What are your choices?”
“Well, I have that dress I had on yesterday.” She digs around in her bag. “But it smells kind of gross.” She pauses, grinning as she grabs a piece of fabric. “Oh wait, I have this.” She holds up a short, black dress that’s completely see through.
I frown. “You can see through the entire thing.” I’m not even sure why I’m being so territorial. It’s not in my nature, but the fact that she’s not mine and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my entire life makes me want to be sure that no one else can have her. I blame it on my need for control. Violet has never been one to let me control her, which was what partly drew me to her. Although, I’d still like to control her in some ways.
She grabs another article of clothing, an even shorter dress, but it isn’t see through. “I’ll put this on underneath it.”
“I still think you should go with the jeans and t-shirt.” I straighten my legs and stand up, telling myself to take a chill pill.
“I’m sure you do,” she remarks as she stands up herself, the towel getting stuck on her thigh so she’s even more exposed.
I wait for her to ask me to step out so she can get dressed, but instead she just stares at me, nibbling on her lip as she holds onto the top of the towel as if she’s deliberating something deeply.
“Do you want me to step out?” I should just do it, but I don’t want to, so I need her to make me.
Her gaze deliberately scrolls up my body. “I don’t know.”
Be a f**king good guy for once and turn around. “I should probably go.”
“Maybe.”
“Violet…”
She releases her hold on the towel, a unsteady breath escaping her lips as it falls from her body and onto the floor. “I don’t even know what I’m doing,” she says almost horrified. “Just that I want to do it.”