Damnable Grace
Page 63

AK said no more as I purged years’ worth of sorrow from my heart. He just held me close as my tears dried to a drought and my body sagged in exhaustion.
My eyes fought to close, and I lost the battle to keep them open. I recalled being lifted in AK’s arms and placed down a warm bed. But when I next woke I was alone, and my entire body shook. My skin was sweating from my nightmares. I saw my daughter’s face, felt her in my arms. I saw Lilah on the stake, her bloodied body, too vividly in my head.
It was all too much.
I threw back the comforter and left my room. The cabin was quiet and still, but I needed him.
I needed him so badly.
I tiptoed into AK’s bedroom. There were two small, narrow beds in this room too. AK’s tall form was under the covers of one. As if he were a beacon to my bruised heart, I followed my feet until I arrived at his bedside. The wooden floor creaked beneath my feet. His body jolted upright, and he blinked into the light from the moon. “Phebe?”
I did not speak. I simply lifted the cover under which he lay and climbed inside. I let his smoky scent soothe my nerves as I lay down on the pillow beside him. I stared into his eyes and shuffled close to his warm body, the two of us barely fitting on the tiny mattress. I laid my head against AK’s shoulder and closed my eyes.
His arms came around me, and I heard his breathing in my ear. In the comfort of his safe embrace, I let sleep pull me under. And for the first time in my life, I lay in bed with a man and just slept.
My body protected in his arms . . .
. . . and perhaps my soul too.
Chapter Fifteen
AK
“You nearly got it that time,” I teased. Phebe huffed out a frustrated breath. The tree closest to us was chipped again. Fuck, the bitch was getting better, but shooting wasn’t easy. I would know.
She was doing better today. She had slept for almost a day after all the fucked-up shit she had told me. Bitch had had a kid. And worse, those asshole motherfuckers had taken her away and now she was fuck knows where. No wonder the bitch turned to drink.
My mind drifted to Zane, my kid nephew, and I fought back the fucking shame that filled me too. Phebe had lost a kid, and I had lost . . . everything . . .
Phebe leaned into me and hid her face in my chest, ripping me from my thoughts. She looked up and said, “I cannot even hit the central target at this tree.” She pointed at the farthest tree away. “Who could even hit that?” She shook her head.
I glanced at the tree she was referring to and shrugged. “Me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You can hit that?” She eyed me skeptically. “I realize you must be a good shooter, but I am sure not even you can hit that.”
I smirked at her disbelief. Bitch had no fucking idea. Taking the gun from her hand, I stepped forward and took my position. I could feel her eyes on me. But I blocked her out. The world fell away around me as I held completely still. I focused my eye on the target. I canceled out everything but the bullseye.
My focus became sharp, unquestionable. I shifted my finger on the trigger, then with practiced ease, sent the bullet flying through the air and straight into the center of the target. I lowered the gun, feeling the same adrenaline rush through me that I always did. I turned and faced Phebe. She was watching me, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
She looked fucking gorgeous. Bitch was stunning, all freckles and blue eyes.
“AK.” She stepped forward, eyes now on the target. “How . . .? What?” She fought to finish her words. “How did you do that?” She looked down at the gun in my hands, then shook her head suspiciously. “There is something you are not telling me.”
My stomach tightened, and I turned my head away. “Nah, just learned to shoot here as a kid, that’s all. I got good. Got better with the Hangmen.”
I gathered the guns together and headed for the lodge. Phebe followed me as I put the guns away in the trunk, then entered the house. Her hand slid into mine, urging me to stop. Her blue eyes searched my face. “Why can you shoot?” she asked, more firmly this time. I didn’t say shit in response.
She pointed to a cupboard on the other side of the room. “Why is that cupboard locked?” I knew what she was talking about, but I hadn’t even known the bitch had noticed it. “Why are we here in this lodge, AK?” I tried to swallow back the annoyance that was creeping up my throat. I’d seen the bitch through her drinking binge, listened to her tell me about her kid, yet here she was giving me shit?
“Whose boots are by the door?” Her words slammed into my chest. I could feel my walls building back up, pushing the bitch out. She’d broken through, impossibly, but now she was pushing me too far. She might have wanted to bare all her shit out in the open, but that didn’t mean it was time for me to do the same.
“I saw you.” She tightened her grip on my arm. “I saw you cleaning the boots. I saw you hold them to your chest.” Phebe stepped closer. I wanted to move the fuck away, but my legs wouldn’t budge. “I saw you shed tears over them.”
“Leave it,” I warned. My cheek twitched in anger.
“AK, please . . . talk to me,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I . . . I confided in you. Please, confide in me too. I can see the burden you bear.”
Snapping, forced to fly off the fucking edge, I yanked her closer and spat, “Don’t try your fucking temptress shit with me, Red. You ain’t fucking ready for what I’d lay at your feet. You think your tale is bad, you ain’t seen nothing.” I brought her face as close to mine as possible. “So cut the shit and back the fuck off.”
I let go of her arms and grabbed the truck’s keys off the counter. I smashed out of the door, hearing her call my name from behind me. I didn’t stop, couldn’t. I slammed in the truck into drive and pulled out of the cabin. I drove and drove until I reached a store. I bought a shit-ton of food I didn’t need, then got a bottle of Jameson off the top shelf. The cap was off and the liquid running down my throat before I’d even left the store. I sat in my truck, feeling the burn I needed to take off the edge. I laughed with fuck all humor. I’d taken Phebe from drink, but here I was like a fucking pussy, drowning the memories that had increased tenfold since Phebe had told me her story.
That fucking lodge. Those motherfucking boots. The guns, the clothes in the closet . . . that motherfucking locked cupboard.