Pieces of My Heart (18 page)

“Jade . . .” Mom leaned toward me, more clear eyed and coherent than I’d seen her in a while. Hope soared—until she reached past me and plucked the can from my fingers. “Give me my damn drink.”

“Mom, please—”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Your father needs our help. He has nowhere else to go, Jade. What kind of self-centered bitch tries to make her mother feel guilty for doing the right thing? How pathetic do you have to be to try to make yourself feel better by making others feel worse?”

The irony of that statement hit me hard, but it did nothing to dilute the guilt that ricocheted in on its heels.

She threw open the liquor cabinet and scowled at the two half empty bottles on the shelf. “I’m going to the store. I suggest you adjust your attitude or get the hell out of my sight before I get back.”

Taking a deep swallow, she discarded the can on the counter in exchange for her keys. Probably not the wisest series of events, but she’d only had a few sips, so I wasn’t worried about letting her drive.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I was being selfish. Again. I didn’t know the first thing about Michael, but I was willing to sacrifice him in order to save my mother. No. To save
me
. What
I
wanted.

Self-centered bitch.

The sink was piled high with dirty dishes. Turning on the water, I filled a pot to soak and dug in the cabinet for a fresh sponge. Our faucet was installed sometime before safety regulations existed. Or maybe they just didn’t matter. Either way, the water reached a scalding temperature if left on for too long. I was certain that most of what passed for appliances around there had fallen off the back of a truck somewhere. The air conditioner hadn’t worked since before we moved in as far as I knew. And the oven went months refusing to heat between shoddy repair jobs. I’d been forced to MacGyver more than a few meals because of it.

All I found was an empty package where the sponges should have been.
Perfect
. Resigning myself to using a wad of paper towels, I spun around just to have the pot slapped from my hands and jumped to avoid the spray of hot water.

“What the—?”

Michael stood close enough that I could taste his foul breath as he panted in my face. I’d seen him fight with my mother a million times. Watched him yell and scream and break shit. But I’d never
seen him look like
that
.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I . . .” He was too close for me to get around him, so I took a step back instead, gripping the counter when my back came up against it.

“Think you can open your big mouth and mess up my life?”

“No . . . I . . . I didn’t mean to—”

“Stupid, nosy bitch.” His hand snapped out and I tried to dodge him, but I had nowhere to run.

It wrapped around my arm, hauling me away from the sink and shoved me back a step. And another. And another. He directed my movements like a puppeteer across the room until my back slammed up against the wall and my head cracked on the door frame.

“Please . . .” I whimpered. “You’re hurting me.”

His fingers dug into my flesh, pinning my arm to the wall at an awkward angle beside my head.

“I’ve got a good thing going for me here. I swear to God, you mess that up and you’ll be sorry. You stay the hell out of my business and your stupid bitch mother’s.”

It hurt hearing him talk about my mother that way. “You don’t care about her, at all. You’re the worst thing that ever happened to her.”

“Funny.” A twisted smirk, curled his upper lip. “I’m willing to bet she’d say that was
you
.”

His words hurt worse than his ruthless grip. Mostly because I knew they were true. I struggled to free myself, but that only made him clamp down harder.

“Do not make the mistake of thinking that because I donated sperm and about twenty minutes of my time to your existence that I’ll let you stand between me and what I want.”

With one final crushing squeeze for good measure, he released me. My legs gave out and I sank to the floor, a trembling huddled mess.

“That’s more like it.” Michael sneered down at me and I felt sick.

That was where I belonged, according to him. According to
my father.
Cowering at his feet like a kicked puppy.

The moment he turned his back on me, I scurried from the kitchen as fast as I could, through the living room, and out the front door. I didn’t stop for anything. Not even my coat. I only had shoes on because I’d already been wearing them. I just needed to get the hell out of there.

I picked my way down the stairs, conscious of my footing, and out of the building where I slammed to a stop. Wheeling to the left, I threw myself through the laundry room door and slumped against the wall.

“Shit.”             

DJ was standing on the sidewalk, pacing back and forth, obviously waiting for someone. That it was me was a possibility, but unlikely seeing as
I
hadn’t even known I was leaving home today until it happened.

The sound of a motorcycle sent my pulse from racing to a dead stop.

DJ pointed across the lot—to
my
building—and I felt my throat close up. Holy shit. This couldn’t be happening. He was telling the truth. Stryker really was looking for me.

And he was here.

Now
.

Eighteen

Stryker moved with a confident stride that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing and would go straight through anyone standing in his way. DJ scurried to keep up with him and I scrambled back away from the window, crawling behind a row of dryers. Lint and dust coated my hands and knees and choked the air as their voices carried to me through the open door.

“She live alone?” I didn’t recognize the deep, raspy voice, but I had a pretty good idea who it belonged to.

“She lives with her mother, but that bitch won’t give you no trouble.” DJ, that back-stabbing weasel.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

“Yeah, man. Let’s do it. Let’s teach that stupid bitch a lesson she won’t never forget . . .”

I took a deep steadying breath and then had to cover my mouth to muffle a coughing fit. What the hell was I going to do? At least Mom wasn’t home. Let Michael answer the door. They could have it out. I wouldn’t even care who won.

But then what? I couldn’t hide in the laundry room forever. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t go . . . anywhere.

Curled in a tight ball in the filth behind rusted out dryers with my head tucked against the arms wrapped around my knees, I’d never felt more alone. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t call the police. What was I supposed to say?
Yes, officer, I was making a delivery for a known drug dealer to a motorcycle club and now they think I called the police instead of making the delivery, which I didn’t do, but probably should have, and they want to make me pay for it, anyway?
Yeah, because that wouldn’t add to my problems.

But I couldn’t deal with this on my own. I needed help. I needed . . .

The phone in my pocket dug into my hip. Squirming as little as possible to avoid making any unnecessary noise, I yanked it out and fiddled with the display. His number was right there in front of me.

All I had to do was push one button.

All I
could
do was ask.

“Jade?”

My hands that had been shaking long before I dialed broke into full-on convulsions at the sound of his voice.

“Cal, I . . .” Christ, why was this so difficult? Because it meant so much. It meant everything. “I . . . I need your help.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Where are you?”

I could have cried. “In the laundry room outside my building. I don’t think they know where I am, but if they find me . . .”

“If who finds you?” Beneath his words I heard the slamming of a door and the rapid crunch of gravel.

“DJ. And that guy I saw getting arrested. The one I was supposed to deliver the box to. He thinks someone ratted him out to the police and DJ told him it was me.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“He looks really pissed, Cal.” Terror choked out my voice and I forced myself to swallow it back. I couldn’t lose it. Not now. I needed to hold it together. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sit tight.” A burst of music nearly deafened me before he quickly snapped off the radio. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m on my way. And whatever you do, do not hang up.”

“Okay.” I really wasn’t planning on doing any of those things, anyway.

The slap of heavy boots on concrete had my body flinching with each step as they drew closer. I hated hiding. I’d played manhunt one time as a child and I still remembered the fear of crouching behind that tree in the dark, psyching myself out for the moment the seeker caught me. The anticipation had been far worse than the actual event. This time, it wouldn’t be. I didn’t know what Stryker had planned, but I somehow doubted being tagged and sent to ‘jail’ would be my punishment.

“Dammit!” The sun glinted off cracked leather as Stryker’s fist collided with the laundry room door hard enough to crack the wood. He didn’t even flinch. “You told me the bitch was home. I don’t have time for this shit.”

I slapped my hand over the squeak he startled out of me.

“Yeah, well, that’s her car right there, man. She can’t have gone far. She’ll be back.”

“She better be. I wasn’t lying when I told you someone was going to be made an example of. If it ain’t her, it’s you.”

“It’ll be her, man. Rats like her always find their way back to the sewer, eventually.”

My fingers curled with the urge to throttle DJ. This was his fault. He may try to look like a thug, but he really wasn’t all that much bigger than me. And he was usually higher than a kite. I’d stand a decent chance against him. I was angry enough that if it hadn’t been for his badass, totally terrifying biker buddy, I might have given it a shot.

As it was, I inched my way around the dryers to the dirty window overlooking the parking lot. DJ was still running his mouth as he followed Stryker right past his bike and into the DJ’s building. They weren’t going anywhere.

“Cal?” I don’t know why I was whispering. It’s not like they could hear me from there, but I was too frightened to get my voice to work any louder.

“I’m almost there. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. They went into DJ’s building. I don’t think he’s planning on leaving until he finds me.”

“That’s not gonna happen. I’m turning into the complex now.”

I tried to catch my breath, but couldn’t. What would he do if he found me? From the look of DJ, nothing pretty. Stryker was a big guy. All muscle and anger management issues. The kind of guy that could do a lot of damage if he wanted to. “Hurry, Cal.”

“I’m almost there. You’re gonna be alright.”

I tried to picture Caulder to fight back the encroaching panic. Behind the wheel of his big black car. No doubt hauling ass past the dilapidated tennis courts and overgrown basketball nets. He was close. He had to be. Just breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. In—

Tires squealed to a stop outside my building and I chanced another peek. Caulder’s car was parked diagonally across three spaces. The driver’s door hung open as he raced over the patchy lawn, his long strides devouring the distance between us. I didn’t wait for him to reach me. Shoving off the floor, I flew to the door and nearly collided with him.

The moment Caulder’s arm came around me, I gasped with relief.

“It’s okay.” He curled me tight to his body and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. His chin rubbed over my hair, the scruff lining his jaw, scraping soothingly against my scalp as we hustled toward his car. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He didn’t let me go until he’d deposited me safely in his passenger seat, pressed the lock, and shut the door. His face remained calm, but he’d held me close enough that I could hear the way his heart was hammering away inside of his chest.

Watching him round the hood felt like the longest five seconds of my life. I kept glancing at DJ’s building, expecting one or both of them to come barreling out at any moment.

They didn’t. Caulder slid behind the wheel and threw it into drive. He hadn’t even bothered turning it off. My eyes stayed glued to the building until it was out of sight, trying to get my racing mind to settle on a single thought. Even after we left the complex, I kept expecting to hear the roar of a motorcycle chasing us down.

“Relax.” Cal reached over and wrapped his fingers around mine, gently removing them from my mouth. “I think we’re safe now.”

We’re
safe. Not
you’re
safe. I’d put Caulder in danger simply by calling him. How had I not thought of that?

Because I’d only been thinking about myself.

Self-centered. Greedy. Sucking the life out of everyone around you.

If something happened to him . . . because of me . . . “I’m sorry, Cal. I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess. I just . . . I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Jade . . .” His fingers threaded through mine and gave a squeeze. “You needed my help and you called me. That’s what I’ve been waiting for you to do. To trust me enough to
ask
for my help when you need it.
Everything’s going to be okay now. I promise.” His hand traveled lightly up my arm on its way back to the steering wheel, pausing to give another reassuring squeeze to my upper arm. And, dammit, I flinched.

I flinched and Caulder saw. His eyes hardened before narrowing on my upper arm. A few rapid glances at the road ahead assured him it was clear sailing and he removed his right hand from the wheel, reaching over, despite my protests, to push my sleeve up.

“What the hell is that?”

I followed Caulder’s line of sight and cringed. Five fingerprint sized bruises encircled my upper arm.
Crap
.

“It’s nothing. I—” My entire body lurched in the seat as Caulder slammed on the brakes, kicking up dirt and gravel as we jerked to a stop on the shoulder.

“Jade.” His eyes dared me to lie again. “What. Is. That?”

I sighed and tried to tug down my sleeve, but Cal was having none of it. Gently lifting my arm by the elbow, he examined the dark spots more closely.

“Are those from . . . fingers? Did someone grab you?”

“I told my mom I thought Michael should leave. I thought he was asleep, but he must have overheard. When she left . . .” My close encounter with Stryker had overshadowed the one with Michael, but reliving it . . . I twisted my fingers together in my lap to hide the way my hands were beginning to shake. “He got pissed.”

“And he hurt you.” It wasn’t a question, but I shook my head anyway.

“He grabbed me.” I had a feeling Caulder was letting his imagination run wild. “It really wasn’t that big a deal. He warned me not to—”

Before I could even finish talking, Cauder hit the gas as hard as he’d hit the brakes earlier and I bounced off the door as he pulled a sharp uey across four lanes of traffic to turn us around in the opposite direction. Forget angry bikers, drug dealers, and deadbeat dads, Caulder’s driving was going to be the death of us both.

“
What are you doing?
” I grabbed the door handle and hung on for dear life.

“What am I doing?” Caulder, on the other hand, was almost deadly calm and entirely focused. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

“Cal. Stop. You can’t.”

“Like hell I can’t. He put his hands on you, Jade. He hurt you . . . You were hurt. And afraid.”

I opened my mouth to say who knows what, but Caulder cut me off before I could utter a single word. “Tell me you weren’t afraid.”

It was a dare. One I couldn’t rise to because it meant lying to him. And the one thing I could never do again was lie to him.

“I’m afraid now.” Not a lie.

Caulder’s lead foot eased off the gas and we slowed. “Of me?”

He was incredulous. And wrong.

“No. Not you.” He had a temper, but I could never be afraid of him. “Cal, I called you because DJ’s back there and he’s looking for me. I called you to take me away from there. Not bring me back.” I felt the rising tide of panic begin to pool in my eyes. “
Please.
I can’t go back there. Not yet.”

We slowed further until we drifted off the road onto the shoulder and rolled to a slightly less jarring stop this time. He didn’t put it in park. He just sat there with his foot on the brake, staring out the windshield.

“You were afraid. And alone. And—” He choked back some of the emotion clogging his voice. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

I shrugged and twisted a strand of hair hanging over my shoulder. “It wasn’t your problem. You said you couldn’t—”

“I did this to you.” I wasn’t so convinced honesty was the best policy anymore, as I watched heartache wash over Caulder’s face. “I was a coward. I was scared of how you make me feel. Terrified of losing control . . . I pushed you away. I demanded that you trust me and then gave you every reason not to.”

“Caulder, stop. You’re wrong.” He had no idea
how
wrong he was. “I asked for your help, didn’t I? I needed you and I called, because . . . because there’s no one else in this world that I trust more.”

“I don’t deserve your trust.” The revulsion I saw earlier, turned inward. Cal was angry with himself, the way I was angry with myself. But whatever had happened before didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that he was there when I needed him. And, contrary to whatever he was convincing himself of inside that head of his, I’d never once doubted he would be.

“It doesn’t matter, Cal. I trust you. I’ll always trust you. Just like I’ll always need you.” I wouldn’t let him harbor guilt over me. I had to make him understand that no matter what happened—or didn’t happen—between the two of us, he would
always
have my trust. I didn’t know how else to do that other than to be perfectly honest.

“When I was little . . . things weren’t always easy.” Feeling overexposed, I dropped my gaze to my lap, but I could see from the corner of my eye that Caulder had put the car in park and shifted to give me his full attention. Something I couldn’t think about at the moment if I was going to get this out. “Sometimes I’d go to my room and . . . cry.” God, this was embarrassing. “I’d bury my face in my pillow and just . . . And if it was really bad . . . so bad I couldn’t control what was coming out of my mouth, anymore, I’d always end up crying for the same thing.
Home
. Over and over, ‘I want to go home’. Which made no sense, because I was lying in my bed in the only home I’d ever known.” I swallowed hard against ache beginning to grow at the back of my throat.