Fissure

The difference between me and them, though, was that I knew just how many hits a man could take to put him a toe from death before putting him a toe over. It was a skill that was an art, one that required an exorbitant amount of restraint and finesse, neither of which the three brothers before me possessed.

They were going to be spending some time behind bars for either nearly killing or killing a man. Because of me. Because I’d let them go in my place. Because I stayed behind with their sister while they dealt out a mountain of revenge on the monster that had haunted her. They were going to lose everything they’d worked for since they’d been children in an abusive household because I’d failed to act when I knew I should have.

“It was nice pretending we were going to end up doing something other than pressing license plates,” Dallas said, reaching into the mini-fridge and cracking open a beer. “I guess the piece of shit dad gene caught up with us after all.”

Austin lurched in his face, slapping the beer Dallas was upending out of his hand. It smashed against the wall, causing an eruption of liquid.\

“You’re making jokes?” Austin seethed, going red-faced. “You’re making jokes? Maybe you don’t like reaping the rewards of the hard work we put in growing up, but I do. I didn’t plan to end up wasting away my twenties in a jail cell.”

“None of us did, Austin,” Tex said, not seeming phased that two of his brothers were about to throw down. “And Emma didn’t work her butt off to end up trapped under the hand of a guy like dad, either. Things change, life changes. Get over it.”

“Did anyone see you?” I asked, shifting in spot, devising a plan on the fly.

The brothers stared at me like they’d forgotten I was there.

“Ty saw us,” Tex said, his jaw set. “He answered the door drunk, looked at us as if he was bored, and said, ‘What?’ like he knew exactly why we were there and wasn’t the least bit concerned.” Tex’s hands clenched open and closed over his knees. “That loser deserves what he got and I’m happy to accept what I deserve for doing it. I’d do again.”

“Did you leave any fingerprints?” I asked, directing it at Tex since Austin was a wreck and Dallas was still jumpy from post-fight adrenaline.

“Nope, just knuckle, boot, and bat prints.”

“Where’s the bat?”

Tex cocked his head behind him. “In the trunk of Dal’s car. Why? You planning on going to the batting cages tonight?”

I ignored the sarcasm, knowing time was a luxury we were going to run out of soon. “Did any of you make any calls or texts from the time you left Emma’s room until now?”

“No,” Tex answered, looking to his brothers. Both shook their heads. “We were a little preoccupied.”

“Not even to Jackson?” I would be surprised if the oldest Scarlett had been left out.

“Since he’s at a business conference in Chicago,” Tex said, “he wouldn’t have been a lot of help to us tonight.”

“Did anyone other than the six of us know where you were going?” The other questions were important if my thrown together plan was going to work, but this was the one that mattered. The one that landed them in or kept the Scarlett brothers out of jail.

“No,” Tex said, his voice irritated. “What’s with the twenty questions? You planning on majoring in criminal justice? Maybe law? Because we could use a good lawyer right about now.”

Turning away from them, I crossed my arms, staring out the window at the rain as it continued to assault the world around us. Less than four hours ago, I’d been wrapped around Emma, knowing I wouldn’t have to let her go ever again.

Well, as they say, that was then and this was now.

“Okay, listen up,” I began, crossing my arms. “This is what you’re going to do. Julia’s dad is getting Emma patched up right now. Once the doc is done, you’re all going to get in Austin’s car and drive to my place. No detours, no stops, no bathroom breaks. You’re going to grab a change of clothes before you go and burn the ones you have on now. Emma will know a good place to burn them.” I let myself have one second of that memory—a bonfire, a girl, and an almost kiss—savoring it with a smile. “You only pick up the phone if I call. You only answer the door if it’s for me or if it’s for the cops. If they find you there and want to question you, let them in and tell them you have no idea what happened tonight. Say that Emma wouldn’t tell you what happened to her, so you drove her to her boyfriend’s”—I grinned again at my new title—“house, hoping he’d know what was going on.”

Turning back to them, I found three blank faces. “You are not to say anything about Ty. Play dumb about anything Ty related.” I gave each of them a stern look, hoping they realized the deep crap hole we were in and would listen.

Austin’s blank expression was the first to crack. “And what happens when Ty tells them the truth and the cops find out we lied? We lose all credibility and rot in jail a few years longer.”

“Leave that to me,” I said. “I’ll take care of Ty.”

I don’t know if it was my face or the way I’d said it, but that was all the explanation the brothers needed. No one looked even close to the tip of another question.

“Jules,” I said, gripping my hands over her shoulders where she still sat huddled on the bed. “If anyone was to question you as to what happened tonight, what would you tell them?” It wasn’t coercion, and I wouldn’t bribe, plead, or beg with her to lie. If she didn’t want to lie, I would respect that and readjust the plan as needed.

She shrugged, looking up at me with nuclear green eyes. “What happened tonight?” she asked innocently, like she didn’t have the foggiest.

“I love you, Jules,” I said, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah, well, don’t forget,” she said, back to picking at her nail polish, so I knew the worst of the shock was over. “First name of your first born. That’s my price.”

“First and last name of our first and second born,” I said, charging for the door, ready to get this done. “Tell your dad thanks for everything.”

“Hey,” Tex called after me. “Where are you going?”

I grinned—this part of the plan I was looking forward to. Immensely.

“I’ve got to make a hospital visit.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The wonderful thing about ambulances, when you’re trying to figure out where someone ended up without asking a lot of questions, is that they take their passengers to the closest hospital. I didn’t have to make any calls pretending I was family, I didn’t have to call his parents pretending I was a concerned friend, I didn’t have to break into anything, or perform any cloak and dagger work—which was my favorite kind when it came to work, but it took time and that we didn’t have. All I did was walk through the sliding glass doors, give the elderly lady manning the front desk a wholesome-as-apple-pie smile as I glided by her, and press the third floor button when I stepped into the elevator.

From everything I’d gathered from the Scarletts, if they weren’t even sure he was still breathing, he’d be in critical care, if not the ICU, after they finished sewing him back together in the ER. I also knew they’d be working on him for awhile because the damage a bat can do to a Mortal body when swung with the right degree of power and vengeance can be rather extensive.

So I copped a squat in the waiting room and made a call. The twerp let it ring right up to the voicemail message.

“S’up?” Joseph answered, sounding like a gang leader for the happy and cheerful.

“I need you and Nathanial here,” I said. “Now. I don’t have time to explain, but I need my brothers here, and I need you to be ready to intimidate the hell out of someone. I’ll explain later.”

The other end was silent for a second, and then, “We’ll be there. Text me your location,” he said, his voice as serious as Joseph could manage. “See you soon.”

“Sooner,” I said, ending the call. Joseph’s word, just like any of my brother’s, was golden. They’d be here—I just hoped they’d be here in a few hours.

I passed the next couple hours playing a mean game of chess with myself in my head. It was brutal, but I won.

I made a stop at the vending machine, feeding it as many dollars as it had of those packages of soft, delicious cookies. I ate them all. When another hour came and went without a rolling stretcher holding the moaning remains of Ty Steel, I hit the deck and did one thousand sit-ups. I never tired, I never stopped thinking of Emma, I was never able to erase the image of her bloodied face from my mind.

I wanted to call her, just to do a quick check-in to make sure she was doing all right and they’d all made it to my place, but I couldn’t risk it. Unless I absolutely needed to reach them for nothing short of an emergency, I needed to keep as much evidence off the prosecutor’s table as I could.

I was about to drop and break into a second set of sit-ups when an elevator chimed, its door gliding open. A stretcher spilled out, pushed by a couple of nurses and escorted by a male and female who I didn’t need to be introduced to on a last name basis. I was looking at the man Ty would look like in another thirty years, brow set in a permanent line of supremacy, eyes wandering over everything like it was unsatisfactory, gut pinching over the belt, and fists half curled, always at the ready.

Mrs. Steel looked like she’d just gotten back from a Mediterranean vacation a week ago and had just stepped out of the local country club’s supper club. Her face was as unpleasant as Mr. Steel’s, but it was because of the sadness that shadowed hers. That, and the clothes that covered too much of her body for the warm California air, led me to the conclusion that battery ran in the family.

I didn’t bother to look away as they glided by the waiting room, knowing enough of them from two seconds of observation that they weren’t the type to pay any attention to riff raff.

I listened to each rotation of the wheels, calculating the distance they were traversing so I could teleport into Ty’s room and not his neighbor’s. I’d have to wait until his parents left, for reasons that would be obvious soon enough, but something about their inconvenienced looks coming from the elevators told me they weren’t the not-leaving-your-side-for-sleep-water-or-food type.

Two sets of steps sounded down the hall halfway into the late, late, late show. I didn’t wait for the Steels to pass the waiting room before standing up, preparing to undergo the best part of this plan. I hadn’t seen hide or hair of any other Haywards, but I didn’t let that worry me yet.

Joseph said they’d be here, so they would. They’d never let me down, and they’d had two hundred and some years to do it if they wanted to.

One blink later I was standing in front of Ty Steel’s quiet form. It was the first time I’d seen him like this and I thought it was a look that suited him. Sleeping, snoring, bandaged to the point he looked like a mummy, with more than half of his limbs splinted or casted. The Scarlett boys didn’t take payback lightly when it came to their sister. I wouldn’t have either.