I’ve never been one for big parties and the downtown life, but with Erica and Whitney, I find myself having a lot more fun in these environments. They bring out the wilder side of me, the side that, just for a night, forgets all my responsibilities. It’s still a bit annoying that Everett gives me a “bedtime,” but it’s become much more manageable with him bumping it up to eleven instead of ten.

  At the first bar, I have two beers. I don’t want to get too drunk too quickly, especially if we have three other places to visit. Whitney and Shane take to the pool table for a quick game, and Erica ends up flirting with the bartender, leaving me to fend for myself. As I babysit my second bottle, I notice a guy across the bar staring at me.

  He looks at me with narrow eyes, and I can’t help but feel like he’s mad at me for something. I decide to turn the other way and play on my phone, humming along to the rock song playing on the radio. A moment later, someone slides into the seat next to me. I turn to see that it’s the guy from before.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I feel like I know you from somewhere,” he says. Up close, I can see the tattoos on his body, exposed beneath the white t-shirt he wears. He’s not unattractive by any means, but I don’t usually go for the rougher-looking types. Still, I don’t want to be rude, so I smile and say,

  “Do you? Maybe I just have one of those faces.”

  “No, I’ve definitely seen you before, I just can’t place it.” He stares intently for a few more seconds and I let out an embarrassed laugh. Finally, he says, “I’m being rude. I’m Leon. Nice to meet you.”

  “Lane.”

  “Lane and Leon,” he says, smirking. “It’s got a nice ring to it.”

  Leon seems like a really nice guy. He’s a bit rough around the edges with his words, a bit blunter than I’m used to, but it’s not every day I meet a man who speaks his mind without mincing his thoughts. When he reaches for my hand to hold, I politely tell him that I have a boyfriend, and that’s the sudden change in his demeanor.

  “Where’s he at?” he asks, looking around.

  “He’s at home,” I say, my heart beating just a bit quicker. I can’t seem to find either of my friends, which only makes me more nervous.

  “Well if he’s at home, why are you so worried about him? Unless he doesn’t really exist and you just wanted me to sit here complimenting you all night?” His tone is accusatory, and I flinch.

  “I…” Panic starts to swell in my chest, eased only when I see Shane and Whitney step out from around the corner. They must’ve been in the bathroom. My heart leaps, and I quickly excuse myself, hurrying over to them.

  “Woah, what’s wrong?” Shane asks, laughing uneasily.

  “That guy over there is creeping me out,” I explain in a hushed voice. When I look back at him, he’s staring at us. “Can we please go to a different bar now?”

  For a moment, Shane seems like he’s going to turn me down, but Whitney steps in. “Yeah, we can leave. C’mon, this place is kinda grimy anyway.”

  Erica steps out of the bathroom a moment later, and together, the four of us make our way to the door. I can still feel Leon’s eyes on me as we leave, and I don’t feel less on edge until we’re at the next bar. Even then, I look over my shoulders every now and then, worried that he might take a seat next to me again.

  For the next few bars, Erica tries to help me relax my nerves by order drink after drink. To my surprise, it actually works. Leon quickly becomes a thought of the past, and I end up having fun with my friends without a care in the world. Erica, Whitney, and I even dance together at the third club, ignoring all the snickers and sideways glances from the other patrons.

  At the last club—the fancier one—I end up having two cocktails, and I’ve officially reached my limit. My walk is a bit off-kilter, and even standing still, I feel a bit dizzy. Erica, Whitney, and Shane are somewhere dancing, and I’m hit with the overwhelming need to pee. I ask one of the staff where the bathroom is, and he simply gestures to a hallway.

  Holding onto the wall, I turn left and begin walking. For some reason, it’s surprisingly empty, which is a good sign. I don’t want to wait in a long line. I stumble through the door, and instead of finding a bathroom, I’m outside in an alley. I turn around to open the door again, but it won’t budge.

  “Shit,” I sigh. I must’ve gone out through the back. Slightly annoyed, I wrap my arms around myself and head to the front of the bar again. I check my phone for the time and cringe just a bit. I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago. Everett is going to kill me when he finds out.

  When I look up, I see a shadow standing at the entrance of the alleyway. Instantly, I’m on high alert. I’ve seen too many movies and heard too many horror stories about women assaulted downtown, and even in my drunken state, I prepare myself for whatever may happen next. What I don’t expect is two more figures to appear behind him, converging into a group that approaches me.

  “I’m calling the police,” I warn them, unlocking my phone. Before I can put in the number, someone grabs my hand and knocks the phone away. I look up into Leon’s eyes and my blood runs cold.

  “You’re not calling anyone. Not even your boyfriend.” He laughs softly. Behind him, the other men join in the laughter.

  “Please,” I whisper, sliding one hand into my purse. “Don’t.”

  “You know, I thought you looked familiar, and then I remembered where I knew you from. You’re Justine’s girl, aren’t you? What’s that old junkie bitch up to now? Is she still fucking Derek, or did he finally decide to dump her ass?”

  “I—I…”

  “It’s because of that cunt mom of yours that Derek cut me from his business. He thought I was the one trying to fuck her, when it was the other way around. Your mom wanted to hump anything she could get her nasty ass on top of, and I was the one that had to pay. So now you have to pay.”

  When he glances back at his boys, I pull my hand from my purse, keys clutched tight, and slash Leon across the cheek. Blood spills from his face, and he howls.

  “Stay the fuck away from me!” I scream, slicing at his arm as well. Before I go for a third attack, Leon’s hand shoots out and clutches my throat.

  He slams me against the brick wall, his hot breath washing over me when he yells, “You little bitch!” I flinch and squirm, fighting to get him off of me. If it were just him, I might be able to, but his friends pry the keys from my hand and hold me still as well.

  “Get off me!” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. I sound like someone else entirely, someone scared for her life. Every fiber of my being screams “fight” so loud that it’s almost deafening. I thrash against his grip, but he’s still too strong.

  “Get the fuck off of me!”

  “Shut this bitch up,” Leon growls, and soon a bandana is stuffed into my mouth.

  It tastes of cotton and sweat, and I wretch, trying to force it out. Leon seems amused by it all, and he leans in, close to my ear. I feel chills run through me, because as soon as he speaks, I know what’s going to happen next.

  “Where’s your boyfriend now?”

  8

  Everett

  M y meeting with Sidney takes much longer than I prepared for, and by the time we head out of the restaurant and I walk Sidney to her car, it’s just after eleven. The city is quieter at night, but there still seem to be a small amount of people walking around, standing outside and smoking, the usual.

  “Thank you for dinner,” Sidney says as she slides into the backseat of her Town Car. “You’ll be hearing from Joshua soon, since he was obsessed with the picture you helped me pick out for his birthday. He says he wants to personally thank you, because he can’t take his eyes off of it.”

  I smile and give a small, nonchalant shrug. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

  “Fair enough. Nonetheless, I had a lovely time tonight, and if I were in a more intoxicated state of mind, I might just invite you to come home with me.”

  I place a hand over my heart. “If only.”

  “Well,” Sidney says, her ruby lips tugging into a grin. “I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Of course. Whenever you need me.”

  Sidney bites her bottom lip and says, “Mm.” She gives a tiny little wave, then instructs her driver to go ahead. A moment later, her car pulls away from the curb. I stand with my hands in the pocket, watching as the black car gets tinier and tinier until it eventually disappears.

  For a moment, I wonder what would happen if I really did go home with her. I don’t think it would be all that exciting. All of the fun that comes from the banter is knowing that no matter what, neither of us are going to make the first move and blur the line between business and pleasure.

  Despite her husband, that seems like it would be so much less complicated than what I have with Lane. I’m not an idiot. I knew there would be an attraction there. I felt it the first time I met her, but I kept it in check. She was my stepdaughter. She was off limits. Besides, I’d been in love with Justine, and I hadn’t any plans to throw that all away.

  But I thought I could at least keep my hands to myself. I thought, when I took her in, it would be simply to protect her from Derek and all the shitty people her mother knew. I’d started this all with good intentions, and in one night, I’d tossed them all aside. Now, meals with Lane are incredibly formal, with minimal talking from either of us. The air is different, like we both want to say what’ on our minds, but we know it’s reckless to do so. And the worst part of it all is that I still want her.

  If I’d known that I was going to cross that line with her, I wouldn’t have simply slid my fingers inside her. I would have filled her with her cock and driven us both to an orgasm that neither would soon forget. I would’ve made sure to ruin every man after me, because I know that if I’d fucked her that night, every other woman would’ve taken a backseat to Lane.

  Is there a word for that kind of feeling? The feeling of relief and regret at the same time?

  Rather than pondering on this, I begin walking. I don’t know where I’m going, but I do know that I just need to clear my head a bit before I get home. If I want to avoid another situation like the one in her art room, I need to come home with a sober mind. As I walk, I hear a scream.

  The street is deserted. I stop in my tracks, listening again. When I hear another scream, it sounds even more afraid. My adrenaline kicks in instantly, and I take off toward the noise, searching for the woman making it. I pass the alleyway once, then turn back to see a girl being pinned against the wall by a group of men.

  My fists clench when I realize who she is.

  Lane.

  Without thinking, I take off toward them, tackling the man who’s obviously the leader. Everything happens in a blur, completely out of focus. I straddle the man and begin pounding his face with my fists, blind rage coursing through me like the blood in my veins. I don’t care what happens to me, I’m too angry. All I see is the fear on Lane’s face and the mental images of what I know these fuckers were about to do to her.

  Two men pull me off of their now bloodied leader, dragging me backwards. I see Lane cowering in the corner, and when our eyes make contact, something about her horror sparks energy inside me that I didn’t know I had. With a sharp tug, I pull one of the men toward me and slam my head into his nose, satisfied when there’s a sudden crack. He howls and recoils, covering his bloody nose.

  The third man looks uneasy, and swings faster than I can react. His fist connects with my head and I lurch hard, off balance.

  “Everett!” Lane screams. She rushes forward with her keys between her fingers, blindly slashing at the thug in front of me. She cuts him a few times, but her heroism is cut short when he slaps her hard enough to send her stumbling.

  Fury explodes in my chest, and with sudden clarity, ignoring the throbbing in my head and the trickle of blood blocking the vision in my left eye, I aim for his throat, punching him harder than I’ve ever hit someone before. He coughs hard and doubles over, gasping for breath.

  Lane.

  I remember what all of this is about, and I turn to look for her. I take a step in her direction, and the whole world tilts. I collapse to one knee.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” she says, her voice wavering like she’s trying and failing to sound intimidating. “I’ve already called the police.”

  There’s a shuffling behind me, and soon, Lane drops down in front of me, cupping my face in her hands. “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “I’m fine,” I say, wiping the blood from my eye and standing up straight. “Where are they?” The three attackers are gone, nowhere to be found.

  “They left,” she says.

  “Who were they? What did they want?”

  Lane chews on her bottom lip. “I…”

  “Lane, who were they? Did you know them?”

  “No,” she shakes her head. “No, but… Mom did. The main guy, Leon, was mad at her for something she did that got him kicked out of Derek’s circle. He was mad at her and he was going to take it out on me.”

  Fucking Justine. I clench my fists to keep from punching something nearby, like the dumpster or the wall. I took Lane away from her and she’s still not safe. “Goddamn it,” I growl.

  “I’m okay, though,” she says, reaching out for me. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  I blink. “What? Why would I be mad at you?”

  Her eyes well up with tears. “If I was home at eleven like you said, none of this would have happened. This is all my fault.” She presses her face to my chest as she cries, and all the anger I feel instantly disappears. Instead, I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, trying to soothe her and calm her down.

  “Lane, this isn’t your fault. This is your mother’s fault, okay? She’s the one that got involved with this crowd, and she’s the one that I’m going to curse out when we get home. But I’m not mad at you, okay? I was so worried, I—”

  I stop myself before I go any further. I don’t want to admit the fear I felt before the rage kicked in. I don’t want her to know that I imagined not having her around anymore, or knowing that I took her for protection and couldn’t even protect her from Leon and his men.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her strength finally faltering. Now that she’s in my arms, she doesn’t hold herself like she’s waiting for the next attack, clutching her keys like it’s her last lifeline.

  “Let’s go home,” I say, pressing my nose into her hair. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” she says. Lane wipes her eyes and coughs hard, gulping down deep breaths.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  “I’m ready.”

  —

  “Stop moving,” Davis scolds, giving me a pointed look. He holds the needle in one hand and my chin in the other.

  “How do you know how to do this?” Lane asks, watching from a few feet away. She looks slightly sick from the steady stream of blood trickling down my face, but also morbidly curious.

  “Before I joined the Grisham household, I was a military nurse,” Davis says over his shoulder. “I didn’t mind it. Blood never bothered me, and I worked well under high-stress situations. Eventually, when they found out that I was attracted to men, they discharged me. Sometimes I think I’d have rather been dishonorably discharged rather than everyone pretending there was any other reason.”

  “I never knew that, Davis,” I say, looking up at him.

  “That’s because I never told you,” he says simply. There’s a slight smile on his face. He continues to stitch me up, then cuts the wire once he’s done. “You’re all better now, Mr. Grisham.”

  Davis steps back and pulls off his gloves, tossing them into the trash with the rest of the discarded supplies. Lane slowly approaches with a wet rag that she uses to clean up the mess on my forehead.

  “How bad does it look?” I ask.

  “Not that bad,” she says, meeting my eyes. “You’ll probably have a scar, but it’ll make you look dangerous.” She smiles at the thought.

  “Are you okay?” I haven’t asked her that since we got home and she calmed down, but more than any potential scars or injuries I might’ve gotten, I need to know that those fuckers didn’t do anything to her.

  “Yeah,” she nods solemnly. The smile she wears now feels forced. “I’m just a little shaken up, but I’ll be alright. Maybe it’s time to finally invest in a can of pepper spray.”

  “I’m sorry about all of this mess, Lane. I thought bringing you here would protect you from all of it. I thought I could protect you from it, but—”

  “Everett,” she says, cutting me off. She takes my face in both her hands tenderly, her thumbs stroking over my cheeks. “You did protect me. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up out of nowhere, and I don’t even want to think about it. All I care about is the fact that you were there for me. I needed you and you were there.”

  Hearing her affirmations relieves a bit of my anxiety. Though it isn’t completely gone and I still feel like I failed to keep her safe and out of harm’s way, I don’t have the energy to argue. Instead, I pull her in for a hug, rubbing her back softly.

  Davis stares at the both of us with an unreadable expression, but I have a feeling I know exactly what’s going on in his head. He’s seeing it too. He’s seeing Lane’s anger towards me disappear. That resentment she displayed for the first week or two is slowly starting to fade, and something else is taking its place. Something that isn’t quite appropriate, and was never my goal in the first place.

  But I can’t pull away from her now. I can’t bring Lane into my arms, offer her a bit of comfort, and suddenly cut it short. I have to be there for her, now more than ever, because it’s clear that even in my presence, she’s still not out of the woods yet. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with Leon and the others, but I’m determined to keep her safe, no matter what it takes.

  9

  Everett

  Surprisingly, it isn’t the violent storm outside that wakes me from my sleep, but rather, Lane knocking on my door. For a moment, I think I’ve imagined it, but she knocks again, and I rub at my eyes as I say,

 

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