FRACTURED (22 page)

They just wanted to belong and I knew all too well what that felt like.

I was their ticket to a new life. It made no sense for them to squander it.

Cooper followed them out, hovering momentarily at the door.

“Go to the bathroom and make yourself throw up. I need you sober.”

His words were not a request, but an order. “I'm going to go have a chat with those three.”

“Cooper...”

“I won't hurt them, Ruby, but we're not in a position to have a repeat performance of tonight anytime soon. Ground rules are going to be laid.

So are the consequences for breaking them.”

“Did you secure that rental?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.

“No, but I'm getting to the point that I don't care how suitable the conditions are. They need to go, Ruby. The sooner the better.”

21

The next day, I left early to head down to the shop. I was beyond out of touch with the books, and I needed to remedy the problem ASAP. Cooper walked me out on his way down to the college. Since he'd dropped his classes after my disappearance, he was going to see if there was any way for him to re-enter the next semester. Neither of us was overly hopeful, but it was worth a shot. He needed a positive distraction in his life, however small it might be.

“I'll be back in an hour or so,” he told me with a somewhat stern look on his face. “Sean's got eyes on the foreigners, and those three are under direct orders to avoid you. Do I need to order you to stay away from them too?”

I shot him my best 'really?' face. When I was met with an all too familiar 'answer the fucking question' expression, I verbalized my response.

“No, Cooper. You don't need to go all Alpha McBossypants on me. I get it. They're personae non gratae.”

He scrunched his face up at me like he'd just smelled something awful.

“That didn't sound right at all.”

“It's correct. Don't hurt yourself over it.”

“But isn't it persona non―”

“I made it plural, Coop,” I snapped, irritated with his questions. “I took five years of Latin. It's right. Google it.”

“Whatever, grump. Just do as I said, please. The boys are to remain upstairs until I return. I don't want to hear otherwise.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

We stared at each other silently for a moment before an impish smile broke across his face.

“I miss our talks,” he said, turning to walk down to the campus. My car was inconveniently in the shop thanks to his mad driving skills, so he had feet-only transportation for the next few days. I made him leave the Navigator at home because I refused to be left without a car in case of emergencies. I wondered if I could bum yet another vehicle off of Sean.

“I miss my TT,” I retorted. “Don't think that's water under the bridge, my friend.”

“With you, Rubes, it never is.”

He rounded the corner before I could reply, leaving me to stew and laugh. It was unnerving how he could get under my skin and still be charming. That trait clearly hadn't disappeared in our time together.

With a sigh, I unlocked the store and headed in. I shivered a bit, a gust of wind ushering me through the door, chilling me slightly. The weather continued to be unseasonably frigid, and I forgot to dress appropriately for it. A jacket would have been a welcome addition to my ensemble.

Seeking refuge from the blustery weather outside, I quickly found that the temperature inside my shop was not much of an improvement.

An early winter was a highly inconvenient time to experience a furnace meltdown. Especially when the male most likely to fix the problem had just walked into town, leaving me to deal with it alone.

I let out an enormous breath of frustration, lips flapping loudly with the gesture. I knew nothing about furnaces or how to operate them, but I knew I had to at least check the situation out before I called Cooper or a professional to come out and service it. I didn't want to find out that only the pilot light was out―Cooper would never have let me hear the end of it. I'd also be left with a hefty bill and an even heftier blow to my self-esteem.

It took a while to hunt down a flashlight, but admittedly that had more to do with my growing discomfort over the task ahead rather than the flashlight's elusive nature. Basements had never affected me growing up as I'd heard they did others. Darkness was darkness to me—

experiencing it below ground didn't change anything. Utah, however, had changed all that for me. Having to go down into the cramped, dirty crawlspace brought forth anxieties that I still struggled with one year after the fact. I wanted to tuck tail and run back to the apartment, but I just couldn't—for myriad reasons.

I'd spent months ignoring, avoiding, and denying that I had issues as a result of my confinement. I'd also spent thousands on therapy and frequented all kinds of support groups, none of which were especially helpful given my inability to truly share my experience. I really couldn't admit what had happened to me, given the supernatural components of the story. My attacks had been both brutal and scarring, and though those scars were starting to heal with the love and support of those around me, my kidnapping and incarceration still haunted me both day and night. I still hadn't admitted to myself or anyone else that I was a victim of sexual violence. If I didn't begin pushing myself to face my fears and move on with life, would I spend the rest of my life running from my past?

“No,” I said aloud to myself. “No more.”

With my Maglite clutched tightly in hand, I tried my best to ignore my shaking that was amplified by the rattling of the box of matches I held. I made my way into the workshop and quickly found the wall switch. I had high hopes that its light would carry down the narrow stairwell to the crawlspace-like basement below, but that proved wishful thinking. After I moved the boxes of whatnot that were blocking the way, I turned the knob and opened the door to a damp and musty smell. It sent shockwaves down my spine, and I broke out in a full-body sweat in the blink of an eye.

Staring down into the abyss below, I forced the air I needed into and out of my lungs while I strangled the flashlight in my hand. One step at a time, with a mantra of affirmation playing on a loop in my mind and my hand-held lifeline illuminating my path, I made my way to the basement.

It was nearly impossible to stand fully upright with the ceiling so low and the dirt floor so uneven, so I hunched over and ducked my head as I made my way to my destination. Just before I reached the furnace, a mouse skittered across the floor in front of me. I screeched and jumped backward, cracking the back of my head on the floor joist behind me and spilling my matches everywhere.

“FUCK!” I screamed in frustration with myself as I rubbed the throbbing mass to be sure it wasn't bleeding. The anger was helpful, overriding my fear temporarily. I stormed the furnace, slapping the side of it with my open palm before attempting to procure a match or two just in case I did need to light the pilot. Once I had a handful of them and the box to strike them against, I crouched down in front of the mass of metal and looked around for any source of flame within it.

I found none.

“Well, at least this will be a cheap fix,” I muttered under my breath, placing the flashlight down on the ground beside me, aimed precariously at the furnace.

Surprisingly, it was easier than I thought to find what needed to be lit. There were also convenient instructions adhered to the side of the box that detailed the process in full, alluding to the fact that any moron should be able to do it without issue. I was about to test the veracity of that claim.

I snatched up the matchbox and one of the five stray matches I'd collected and prepared to conquer not only my fears that day, but the furnace too. The sulfur smell assaulted my nose as the first match flared to life. I hoped the pilot light would follow suit.

As I leaned forward in an attempt to solve the heating crisis, the flashlight completely crapped out on me, leaving me with only the match as a light source. I scrambled to collect the others before the one I had burned out, not wanting to be alone in the dark for a second longer than necessary. Just as I corralled them next to my knee, the inevitable occurred and my match—directly after burning my fingers―fell to the ground and snuffed itself out.

“Dammit!” I snarled, slamming my hand into the ancient metal box beside me. I felt like it was taunting me while I fumbled with my shaking hands to get another match lit.

One.

Two.

Three.

One by one they sparked and fizzled as if they were a metaphor for my hopes at that moment.

Last one...

I calmed my breathing, knowing that my violent exhalation, with which I was attempting to stave off my panic, had blown out two of the last three matches. Whispering a prayer for help, I quickly drew the little wooden stick along the side of the box. I stifled a squeal when its flame stayed alight—but not for long. As I lifted the match up to illuminate the tiny place on the furnace I needed to put it, I was met with something else entirely—a face.

My screams snuffed out the flame.

22

I scrambled backward, scurrying along the packed-dirt floor in hopes of getting some space between me and the owner of the stone gray eyes that were etched into my mind.

“Ruby,” he called out to me. “Love, I've not come to hurt you...I heard a crash down here. I wanted to see that you were okay.”

Right as I slammed into the stone foundation of the far wall, I heard the sizzle of a match lighting. Beckett knelt before the furnace, looking a cross between bewildered and amused. I was neither—scared shitless came to mind.

“Do all werewolves skulk about, or do any of you actually announce your presence before entering a room—or death-inspiring basement, as the case may be?” My tone was crisp and curt, but it was a mask for the absolute terror I felt rising up from where I'd long ago stuffed it.

And it wasn't going to come out pretty.

“I told you,” he said, leaning in to coax the pilot light to life, “I heard you. I thought you might need my help.”

“Aren't you just a knight in shining armor today? Where's your
steed
? Your
sword
?” I asked as condescendingly as possible while I attempted to strategically move around him. “I'm no damsel in distress, Beckett. I had this all sorted out until you just
poofed
yourself in here and gave me a heart attack.” The path I chose had the widest berth possible.

Everything about the situation made me uneasy, and I wanted to get out of there. Like
yesterday
.

The light was flickering wildly, and it was apparent that it was about to burn out. I didn't want to be anywhere below ground level when that happened. Not caring about the implications, I turned and bolted for the stairs, which was challenging given that I couldn't stand up straight.

I heard him bite out a few choice swears under his breath behind me as his footsteps approached. Knowing that he had been the one to sack me in Maine, it wasn't my fondest case of déjà vu. Just as I passed the halfway point up to freedom, I tripped on the stairs.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked, his accent thickening with his frustration. “It's like you've gone bloody mad all of a sudden! Are you all right?”

“Listen, you shouldn't be down here. You need to get upstairs,” I bit out.

“Ruby―”

“I mean it!” I screamed, wheeling on him once I crested the top of the stairs. “You don't know anything about me, Beckett. What you just did...”

I cut off my words before letting them escape. He didn't deserve the tongue-lashing I was prepared to give him. He hadn't harmed me, touched me, or done anything untoward at all. With a little breathing room between us, I realized that all he'd actually done was help me. Before I had a chance to explain my reaction, a man who was only vaguely familiar to me came crashing through the workroom door, armed to the teeth and ready to throw down.

“Ruby,” he called while eyeing Beckett tightly. “Go upstairs, please.”

“No. I think there's a bit of a misunderstanding here,” I replied, moving in front of Beckett.

“I was told that they were to go nowhere near you.” His tone was flat and business-like; he was PC for sure. “He is where he shouldn't be.

There is a price for that.”

“That's my fault. I was trying to fix the furnace and couldn't get it to work. I called Beckett to come down and help me. He knew the rules―knew that he wasn't supposed to be around me alone—but I started to melt down so he placated me. I'm the reason he's here. He shouldn't have to pay for my ineptitude.”

“I have orders,” he said, moving toward us.

“From who? Sean?” I asked, seeing a potential out for our predicament. It was a card I really loathed playing, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Being the bitchy girlfriend was definitely a desperate move. “Let me explain something to you. Sean wants me happy, end of story. If you kill Beckett, I won't be happy, which will make Sean unhappy in the process. I've seen when Sean is unhappy; it's not especially pleasant. Do you want that rage raining down on you? I sure wouldn't. I've been there once. I don't recommend the experience.

But, if you're hellbent on signing your own death warrant, please,” I baited, sweeping my arms dramatically toward Beckett. “Be my guest.”

The nameless brother eyed me in a way I wouldn't soon forget. It was how they all used to look at me back in the beginning―with utter hatred and resentment. My stomach did a sickening flip. I had only started to gain a little acceptance with the brothers. Once news of my theatrics spread, I knew that would be shot to shit.

“As you wish,” he said with a mocking bow before walking out the way he had come. Beckett and I were silent for a moment, making sure the brother had left.

“You risked much to do that for me,” he said softly.

“Well, I guess I could say the same for you with your handyman stunt downstairs. I lost a little clout with Sean's brothers. You almost died.” He smiled lightly at me before leaning in to kiss me gently on the cheek. “Speaking of almost dying, might I suggest you get your ass upstairs before Cooper gets home? I may be able to keep the PC from annihilating your ass, but Cooper is another story entirely. After our shenanigans the other night, I think you guys are on thin ice.”