Burn

Page 3

I laughed lightly. “Oh, my God. Was it a good comic?”
“It was ‘The Spectacular Spider Man’ comic with the Kraven on the front or some shit. My favourite at the time.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
“You should be. That shit was hard to come by for me. Had to pay a Jackal thirty cents for it.”
“A whole thirty cents?”
“All my money at the time.” He smiled widely at my laughter, and it was a nice smile at that. The kind that brightened his otherwise stern expression.
“Anyway, I started reading to you. Tried gettin’ you to actually talk because you’d just scream and never use words. Your favourite was this animal safari book, and it was the saddest lookin’ thing you’d ever seen, pages worn out and tattered. It was probably from the fuckin’ dark ages or somethin’.
“So, I’d point to every animal on every page and read them out to you. You were too fussy to repeat the names and more intent on listening. I’d re-enact the sounds they’d make, and you’d laugh up a storm, looking at me growlin’ like a fucking lion and bear and shit. Could never get you to do it until one day you just picked up the book yourself and flicked through the pages, looking for something. You stopped and pointed at a bird and screamed, ‘chirp, chirp,’ over and over again. You were damn proud of yourself too, chip-chirping like a possessed toddler; nobody could get you to shut up after that. I called you ‘Birdy’ because that was the only animal sound you’d make, and you responded to the name like it was your own.”
My heart squeezed in my chest and my cheeks went hot. It was so bizarre for a stranger to talk about a moment in my childhood I couldn’t even remember. It was also soothing. Mom had never talked to me throughout the years. Never brought up my childhood, the day I was born, what I was like… She’d remained a shadow, preferring to distance herself from me.
“So that name stuck, I guess,” Remy said with a shrug. “If you don’t like it–”
“I like it just fine,” I interrupted with a convincing smile. “I don’t know anything about that time in my life. I remember nothing. You telling me about it helps. Thank you.”
Cue the nod. “S’alright.”
When we finished eating, we began packing the trash into the paper bag. It was then I took full notice of the bags on the floor beside the door.
He followed my gaze. “I brought you some supplies.”
Supplies? I got out of bed and walked to the bags. I bent down and looked into a few. I found clothes in one bag and hygiene products in another with… Were those pads? What the fuck?
I confusedly turned to Remy. “How long are you going to keep me here?”
He was wiping his hands with a few napkins and not meeting my eye. I didn’t feel good about this.
“There’s some heat on you,” he muttered, throwing the napkins into the bag.
“On me? Why?”
“Come have a seat.”
I sat back down with my back against the headboard and warily watched him fiddle around with the trash bag.
“I struck a deal with the Scorpions,” he then said, finally tossing the bag on the ground before meeting my eye. “Spoke with Jaxon…”
My insides seized at the mention of Jaxon, and I went rigid. He noticed it and eyed me carefully.
“He killed my brother, Sara.” His voice was low, unreadable. “He crossed the line.”
“He saved me,” I whispered, eyes watering at the pain that was re-surfacing. “I told you that.”
“Regardless, there are consequences–”
“Don’t hurt him!” I interrupted hysterically. This is what I feared would happen and why I initially didn’t want to tell him about Brett in the first place. “Please, don’t do anything. Please.”
Remy pursed his lips, displeasure clear in his tense demeanour. “What he did is grounds for retaliation, Birdy. Something I chose not to do in the end.”
Now I was even more confused. “What was the deal?” If it meant there was heat on me, then it had something to do with me.
“You.”
Me? “What do you mean?”
“Told Jaxon to steer clear from you. That you were a Jackal. That you don’t deserve the kind of lifestyle they would have offered you. The heat is knowin’ Jaxon might not follow the rules if you’re back out there, and if he doesn’t follow the rules, shit’s gonna get ugly. There’s not much peace between the clubs as it is. One blow up like this can end badly for everyone involved. I need you here ‘til it cools.”
He spoke to Jaxon? When? I’d only been taken last night!
“Jaxon came for me,” I stated quietly, looking down at my hands now. That was the only explanation.
“Yeah.”
Oh, Jaxon.
All I wanted was to see his face, to feel him wrapped around me. My chest constricted so painfully, I had to put my hand against it. Heartbreak all over again, and once again it was my fault. I wanted him. I wanted him so fucking badly, but I knew the choice had been right. I couldn’t be involved in the seediness of his gang, and yet now I was being forcefully thrown into another.
“I don’t want to be here, Remy,” I told him, meeting the darkness of his eyes once again. “I just want to go home. You can take me to Winthrop, can’t you?”
“No. This is where you belong.” His words, firm and resolute, were emotionless too. He looked away from me and got up, kicking away the garbage bag as he reached for the bags beside the door. He picked them all up and threw them roughly on the bed. I watched him closely, the way his brows furrowed together and his jaw tensed. Anger.
Still unsure of the way he handled his behavioural shifts, I quietly took the clothing bag, emptied it and dispersed all of the clothes over a part of the mattress. High-end tops and silky pyjamas and jeans that were a size too small – where had he found all of this?
When I looked back at him, he was already on his way to the door. Panic gripped me immediately. “Are you leaving?” I didn’t want to be alone in this room another minute.
“Go and shower,” he replied, back against me. “I’ll be settin’ the room up for you.”
He unlocked the door and left me. Why was he so bloody angry? What had I done?
Fuckin’ men, I thought bitterly while picking an outfit to wear. I grabbed a bag filled with shampoo, a razor, body wash, and an absurdly fluffy pink towel. At least I’d be in this prison looking clean and smelling fresh.
It’s the small things.
Three
I betrayed him. Promised him I’d stay. Bolted when I realized otherwise. Did it ever occur to me that perhaps there was an out to the way the Scorpions treated their women? Remy had said that Jaxon was second in command. Surely that yielded powers that might have exempted me from being tossed around like a prostitute without pay. This was hopeful Sara, trying her hardest to think positively.
He should have told me, goddammit! Should have come clean to me about what he was involved in. I sat down on the rough, uneven ground and watched the water disappear down the drain. Pitiful Sara emerged and was looking at the drain thinking, how fitting to watch my own life disappear, too, down the shit drain of life.
What were my options right now? Remy wasn’t going to let me go. Though his answer of keeping me out of that gang had appeared honourable, it didn’t make sense for him to get angry like that. There was something else, and I knew what it was. The way he looked at me, the fact he’d been looking after me all these years… The guy wanted me.
I tried so damn hard to remember his face at the bar all that time ago. Why had he even been there? There was keeping track of someone – something most would do from afar. Then there was watching someone at their work, and flirting, and feeling them provocatively.
I grimaced at the memory. Jaxon had watched all of it. Oh, fuck, had Remy known he was there? If he did—
“You alright?”
I jumped and hurriedly brought my knees to my chest. Remy was standing in the middle of the bathroom without a fucking care in the world. Had he no manners?!
“What are you doing?” I nearly yelled.
“I called you before, and you didn’t answer.”
“So you just decided to walk in on me?”
No pursed lips, no furrow of the brows, it seemed Remy had calmed down heaps. He was even hiding a closed lip smile by lazily itching his nose. He had a beautiful face under his light beard. Although the beard itself added a rough edge to his look, I imagined beneath it was a boyish beauty concealed in the hopes of emphasizing his ruggedness. His eyes were large and rimmed with thick black eyelashes, his lips were thin and blood red when he licked them. It was very distracting.
“You’ve been in here awhile. Just makin’ sure you’re okay,” he stated, still standing in the exact same spot a few feet away. Still staring, too. His eyes made no attempt at being discreet. They frisked me head to toe, though I doubt there was much to see except a wide eyed, messy haired girl curled in the corner.
“Well, I am.” The shittiness in my tone was evident, and I did my best to execute the best scowl possible. My attempt at intimidation failed spectacularly because now he was full on grinning. Smug bastard.
Then he took a few steps forward, until the water was lightly spraying him and leaned over. My body tensed and my eyes watched in shock as he… turned the water off. Cheeky fucker. He grabbed the fluffy towel and threw it at me.
“Hurry up, Birdy.” Without waiting for a response, he turned around and left.
I hugged the towel to my chest. Strange knots formed in the pit of my belly at his abrupt intrusion. The man was all kinds of weird. At least he isn’t angry anymore. No, he certainly wasn’t. The unreadable Remy was slowly unravelling before me.
I accomplished no breakthrough from that shower break. I was still confused as all hell. One thing I knew was if Remy had taken a liking to me, I wanted to use that to my advantage. Horrible and selfish thinking, I know, but I didn’t want to be inside these four walls a long time. If I could convince him to trust me…
Well, then what? Sigh. Back to the drawing board.
I put on a pair of abnormally tight jeans and a silky red top that had gold, stringy bead patterns on the collar. Weird gypsy shit. Honestly, where did he get these clothes from? Then I quickly finger combed through my hair and stepped out.
Remy was right. I’d been in that shower for a long time because while I was contemplating my life and how far in the shitter it was, Remy had transformed the room into a habitable comfort zone.
First thing I noticed was the television sitting on a sturdy brown stand and a shitload of movies stacked in the shelves of it. A small dresser had been placed alongside the same wall, and there were pony tails, combs and hair clips neatly set up on it. There was a bar fridge beside the bed and a stack of magazines on top of it.
Everything was in a state of organized chaos, with boxes neatly stacked to the side so the room still afforded some space. He was in the middle of setting up an oval mirror stand in the corner when I’d reappeared. I’m not sure how I was feeling; there were a bunch of strange and conflicting emotions. It was nice of him to consider my comfort, but having it so set up just further confirmed that I would be staying put in this room for some time. That was a bite of dread that sat in the pit of me.
The reality of my situation hit me hard. I had no choice but to be here. My freedom had been revoked.
“You sure work fast,” I commented.
His vest was off and the sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up. He had big arms and broad shoulders, very well in shape… Just looking at him, I wondered how old he was.
“How old are you?” The question slipped out, and I felt dumb for asking. Talk about random.
“Thirty three,” he answered, turning to look at me. “Why do you ask?”
I shrugged. “Curious.” When I was fourteen, he was twenty two. It wasn’t so bad I’d crushed on a man only eight years older than me. In my head I’d thought he was older.
I took a seat back on the bed and watched him go about the room, organizing things one bit at a time.
“Are you intending on leaving me here alone with a bunch of movies to fight the boredom?”
He stopped unpacking a box and met my gaze. “I’m not intendin’ on goin’ anywhere this weekend. Thought I’d make it more comfortable for the two of us.”
Well then. What do you say to that? I simply gave him a nod and pretended the doona was a fascinating thing to observe. I traced the square patterns while keeping track of his movements in my peripheral. We were going to be here for two days, minimum. Just what was he trying to accomplish by doing this?
“Don’t you have a mega-huge impressive clubhouse where you guys all kick back at?” I asked.
“Yep,” was his vague answer.
“Why didn’t you take me there?”
“Who says you’re not at the clubhouse now?”
My eyebrows bunched up and I studied his face. Mr Serious stared back. No fucking way we were at the clubhouse. Were we?
He grabbed a bunch of movies and threw them on the bed in front of me. “Tell me what you wanna watch. It’s gonna be a good way to pass time if we got somethin’ on that screen.”
I went through the movies, most I’d seen, others I’d wanted to. I shot him a dubious look when I noticed a trend. No way was this guy into this stuff. They were all romance movies, my kind of genre. I’d enjoyed tormenting myself over the years watching love stories with sweet and cliché happily-ever-afters. Looked like I was going to do it again… with a big Jackal by my side.