Badlands (6 page)

He gives me a sad smile and nods, hefting a large brown leather bag from the back seat of his car. “I know. But that’s all the more reason for me to stop for the good ones, right?” He heads off in the direction of the hospital’s entrance, whistling something bright and cheerful. Just before he disappears inside the hospital, Al stops and calls to me across the parking lot.
 

“God bless you, Michael. It was wonderful to meet you. Good night!”

I’ve decided against grand theft auto tonight.

I’ll take a taxi instead.

FIVE

The heavy, steel sliding door of Zeth’s warehouse is chained shut when I get there. That means Zeth’s out. I have a key to the padlock, of course, so I let myself in and I instantly think the place has been turned over.
 

His glass coffee table is shattered. The books that are normally stacked neatly on a set of three shelves on the other side of the open living space are strewn all over the floor, pages torn out and shredded like goddamn confetti. Mounted on the wall, a seriously sharp and very serrated hunting knife is protruding from the shattered screen of Zeth’s television—the television he just bought. I doubt the guy’s ever turned it on, but still…he is gonna be fucking
pissed
.
 

I pull my gun out of its holster underneath my suit jacket and proceed to tread lightly into the warehouse, small cubes of glass crunching under foot from the coffee table, my mind racing a mile a minute. Where’s the girl? Is she okay? After everything that’s gone down with Jamie and Cade today, I’m immediately wondering if she’s still going to be here or if she’s been fucking kidnapped. I haven’t really had time to assess whether Zeth would be angry if Lacey weren’t around, haven’t been able to gauge if he sees having her here as a blessing or a curse yet, but I know for a fact he’d be raging if someone fucking
took
her.
 

“Lacey?” I call out as I move from the living area toward the kitchen, where I find all the cupboard doors open, one of them hanging by one hinge, and pots and pans discarded everywhere all over the floor. “
Lacey
!”

Nothing.
 

Could this have something to do with today? Could Charlie’s cameras have picked up a clear image of me? Does he already know I work for Zeth? Did he come here to confront of Zeth and decide to kidnap Lacey instead? The Chrysler’s windows were tinted, and Zee’s always held his cards very close to his chest so it’s very unlikely. Still,
unlikely
isn’t
impossible
.
 

Shit
.

In the narrow hallway that leads to the bathroom and the bedrooms, I can hear the muted rush of running water. The lights are on in all of the bedrooms, and all the doors are ajar. The bathroom door is closed, however.
 

“Lacey?” I’m ready to blow the brains out of whoever is lurking behind the bathroom door, getting ready to kick the damn thing down first if I need to, but when I try the handle it opens easily and there are no dangerous intruders ready to pounce on the other side. There is only Lacey, curled into a tiny ball on the tiles next to the overflowing bathtub, clutching Zeth’s brutally sharp straight razor in her hand.
 

Suddenly, I remember what Zeth said in his text:
she freaks out on her own.
So. She trashed the place all by herself. With huge, round eyes, the tiny blonde girl shrinks back, knuckles turning white as she grips the razor closer to her chest. She swallows hard, eyes locked on my gun.
 

“Hey, Lace,” I say softly. “What’s going on?” I take my finger off the trigger and slowly holster the weapon, trying not to make any sudden movements. I survey the scene for blood but there isn’t any. Only an inch of water on the floor and a drenched, very frightened woman, panting, struggling for breath. She jumps when I take a step toward her.
 

“It’s okay, Lace. Really, it’s okay. What’s going on, huh?” I carefully inch toward her, holding my hands out so she can see I’m not carrying anything that I might use to hurt her. If anything, I’m the one who should be worried now, by the look on her face and the way she’s clinging onto that blade for dear life. I’m cautious as I lower myself down to sit next to her in the pooling water. As soon as I’m beside her she bursts into tears.
 

“He…he
hurt
…me,” she sobs.
 

“Who? Who hurt you?”
 

She just shakes her head, over and over again, refusing to say anything more. She screws her eyes shut tight and that’s when I make a move, prizing her fingers open so I can take the razor from her. As soon as she lets go the fight seems to leave her. She falls sideways into me, burying her head into my chest, and then that doesn’t seem to be enough. She’s climbing into my lap like a petrified little girl and my heart is my throat because I know, I just fucking
know
some terrible has happened to her and it hurts to even think about it.
 

“Shhh. Shhh, it’s okay, kiddo. It’s okay. I got you. Shhh.”

Lacey sobs; it feels as though she cries forever. She shivers against me, knees drawn up close, arms drawn into her sides as I rock her in my arms. It’s not even an intentional thing. I only realize I’m doing it when my cell slips out of my pocket and lands in the water next to me.
 

“
Fuck
.”

Lacey stops crying. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice small, scared.
 

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” I lift her in my arms, and she weighs nothing at all. She doesn’t make a sound as I carry her through to the room next door, the room I normally sleep in when I crash here, and I place her down onto the bed. I rush back into the bathroom and turn the taps off, pick up my phone—it’s fucked—and go to fetch some towels to dry Lacey with. When I head back into the bedroom, Lacey’s stripped off all of her clothes and she’s standing in the middle of the room, bearing a striking resemblance to a drowned rat. Her normally curly hair is plastered to her scalp and neck, and her whole body is shaking. She hugs herself, arms wrapped around her body, shoulders up around her ears, and I’m filled with a violent and complete rage.

Who could hurt her like this?
 

Who could damage her enough to make her into this person?

She’s so small and fragile, like a small bird with broken wings, and I want to find the person who broke those wings and I want to rip his balls off and shove them down his fucking throat.
 

“I was wet,” she whispers, tears still streaking down her face.
 

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” I’m worried about how she’s going to take it, and yet she doesn’t object when I wrap a huge towel around her shoulders and I begin to slowly rub it over her skin. It’s not even a remotely sexual act.c She seems to calm down as the seconds tick by and I carefully and methodically dry her. Once the jobs mostly done, bar a few areas I don’t feel comfortable attending to myself, I get her to wrap the towel around herself, securing it under her arms and then I take another towel and begin to gently dry her hair with it.
 

I’m almost surprised when she speaks. “You’re not like him,” she says.
 

“Like who?”
 

Again, she clamps her mouth shut, eyes growing wide, like she was on the brink of breaking a secret she’s been sworn to protect. I don’t ask her again. She won’t tell me, I know she won’t, and pushing is only likely to make her panic again. Instead, I guide her back to the bed and get her to lie down underneath the sheets. I’m planning on making my way through to the main area of the warehouse, to tidy up some of the carnage she created there, but she reaches out and grabs hold of my hand.
 

“Please.
Stay
.”

It’s not the best idea to leave the place absolutely trashed, especially since I can’t text Zee and let him know what’s happened now that my cell is fucked, but there’s also no way in hell I can deny this poor girl what she wants, either.
 

She’s so broken. So damaged. All I want to do is take her in my arms and protect her from the world that has so cruelly fucked her over. I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never wanted to protect something so desperately that it’s made my body hum with frustrated energy. Frustrated, because it’s already too late. The hurt has already taken place. The damage has been done, and there’s nothing I can do or say that can take it back.
 
I kick off my shoes and my wet clothes.
 

“I’ll be back in a second,” I tell her. And for the second time today, I find myself wearing another man’s clothes. Zeth’s this time. I grab a pair of his sweats and a muscle tee from his closest, allowing myself a mildly entertained smirk when I catch sight of the black duffel bag on the floor in the corner of his walk in, and then I head back to Lacey. She’s bundled up in the bed, hands fisting the sheets, eyes wide and scared, as though she was expecting someone else to walk through the door instead of me. When she sees that it
is
me, relief visibly washes over her and her hands let go of the sheets. I climb into the bed beside her, and she shifts over to me without hesitation, neatly folding herself under my arm, pressing up against my body, the same way Sara did last night. This is different, though. So, so different. I wrap my arms around Lacey, holding her to me, wanting her to feel safe. Wanting her to know that no matter what’s happened to her before, she’s okay now and that I’m not going to let anything happen to her now. Never,
ever
again.
 

She breathes heavily for a while, and then she says something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “You can…you can fuck me. If you want to. If…if you’re gentle.”

I reel away from her, propping myself up on one elbow so I can look at her. She won’t meet my eye, though. She ducks her head, chin practically pressed against her chest, damp hair falling across her face. I sweep it back, tucking it behind her ear. “No, Lacey.
No
. I
don’t
want that.” I get the feeling that this is a part of her history—trying to handle men with her body. Rewarding them, or appeasing them. Either way, it’s fucked up and I almost feel sick thinking about it. “You don’t have to do that,” I tell her. “Not with me. And definitely not with Zeth.” God, it would be awful if she tried. Lacey shakes her head once, a tiny movement.
 

“No, definitely not with him,” she whispers. “Are you…are you not going to get mad if we don’t?”

I’m struck with the desperate need to hit something. What kind of men has this poor girl had in her life up until now? It doesn’t even bear thinking about. I don’t
want
to think about it, can’t, because if I do I’m going to finish the job she started and there won’t be a stick of furniture in the warehouse left in tact. “I’m not going to be mad, Lacey. Fuck. It’s
never
going to be like that with us. I’m going to take care of you, okay? I promise you, I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. And neither will Zeth.”

“You think he’ll let me stay here? With you guys?”

I lay back down, pulling her to me again. She shakes in my arms, and for the first time in my life I know what it’s like to care about something more than myself. God knows how it happened. Lacey isn’t
my
sister, isn’t
my
responsibility, and yet there’s something about her. I murmur into her hair, holding onto her tight. “He’ll let you stay, Lace. Of course he will. You just say the word and we’ll burn the fucking world to the ground for you, sweet girl. You can count on it.”

She falls asleep eventually, and I lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking. Hoping to god Zee doesn’t flip his shit when he comes home to find his place destroyed and me in bed with his goddamn sister. Weirdly, though, as I fall asleep myself, I’m mostly thinking about Al and one of the last things he said to me before we parted ways. ‘I know. But that’s all the more reason for me to stop for the good ones, right?’

The good ones.
They do exist, it would seem. As sleep takes hold of me, dragging me down into the murky depths of unconsciousness, I wonder how I would go about becoming one of those people.

If it would even be possible at all.
 

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