Mercy (Sin City Outlaws #2)(18)

“Let’s go.”





CHAPTER FIVE


Jillian



WE DRIVE FOR WHAT SEEMS LIKE FOREVER. Eventually passing the ocean, which I can’t help but stick my head out of the window and inhale the salty smell. Crossing my arms on the windowsill of the door, I rest my chin in the crook of my arm. The warm breeze is strong and uplifting, throwing my hair around wildly. For the first time in days, I feel…free. With the sun shining, and warming my skin, the thoughts of loving or hating Zeek fade as the sun blinds me with its rays. I wish I could just sit like this for the forseeable future, and not have to face the truth of reality.

It hurts, this nabbing pain in my chest reminding me that Zeek killed my father every time I get close to him. The fact that I am so utterly consumed with him that I want so badly to forget anything that has happened, but I can’t. My father deserves better than that.

I remember one night being on a call with my field training officer when we got a domestic dispute call. Upon pulling up there was a car on fire in the driveway and a girl sitting on the patio steps. When we asked what happened she said her boyfriend cheated on her, and she was so mad that the only way she could expel the pain in her chest was by setting his car on fire. I asked if she felt better, and she lit a cigarette, smiled, and said, “a little bit, yeah.” I thought the chick was crazy then, but I totally get it now.

I cringe internally. Oh God, I’m going to be that kind of a girlfriend. The kind who carves her name on her man’s bike and burns his clothes when he breaks her heart.

I give Zeek a sideways glance. Destroying something of his and mentally seeing his reaction already makes me feel a little better.

“What are you thinking about?” I snap from my daydream of throwing gasoline on Zeek’s bike, holding the red gallon of gas above my head and laughing like a mad woman.

“Hmm, what?” I try to play it off.

“Yeah, you, you have this look…it’s disturbing.” I chew my inner cheek, debating on what to say.

“Um, I was thinking about burning your bike, maybe your clothes, too. I thought it’d make me feel better about everything…” I sigh, trying to avoid eye contact because I’m sure he’s bug-eyed.

“Oh f*ck, you’re one of those chicks.”

“This is new for me, too.” I half laugh.

His lips curve at the corner, a small dimple forming on one side.

“I like crazy, it keeps things interesting.” He reaches over and palms my hand. I stiffen, that nagging pain in my chest returning. I want to squeeze it back, but…it wouldn’t be right. Not only because I don’t have all the facts about my father, but I feel selfish wanting to be with Zeek. The two of us together…it just brings everyone around us pain.

Casually I pull from his grip and act as if I’m rolling up the window some.

God, I hate this.

“So you’re sure about this guy?” I try and break the unbearable tension.

“Yeah. If not, I’ll put a bullet in his head.” His tone is casual, my eyes are wide as saucers.

“I’m nervous, where I’m from we don’t trust gangsters, let alone sleep on their couch.” Shaking my head, a chill runs up my spine.

“I know, it’s just temporary.” I wish we could just sleep in the van. “Hey, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Zeek continues after seeing the look of conflict written on my face.

I swallow.

“It’s just a couple days. I can do it.” I wring my hands, my toes curling. “However, you can’t hold me responsible if my training kicks in, and I end up handcuffing him to the toilet.”

Zeek barks out a laugh that is contagious.

“I’d love to see that.”

Zeek pulls the van into an upper-class neighborhood. The houses are big, with Bentleys or Cadillacs parked outside. Narrowing my eyes I shoot Zeek a puzzled look. I thought we were going to some gangster’s house?

“There it is.” He points out the front of the windshield to a house. Showcasing tan stucco and a gray roof, the entryway is paved with walking stones, a double glass front door, with two white pillars on each side.

“A gangster owns this?” I’m so confused. I thought we’d be in a rundown house with a chained dog barking in the back yard. Maybe a broken down fence, and bars on the windows even, but not this.

A black Denali whips in front of us, and the garage door to the house opens.

A short man in a black windbreaker and white shirt with dark blue jeans gets out and points at the garage. The gold chain around his neck blinging with the sun.

Zeek drives the van inside the garage, and turns the engine off. The garage is mostly empty. The only thing in here are a bunch of long tables that are folded up along the side of the wall.

“My motherf*cking homey!” The man shouts, striding toward the van. Zeek gets out, so I follow. My heart thundering in my chest so hard my hands shake.

“Wow, I think you got fatter, Paw.” Zeek chuckles, doing some handshake thing with Paw. “Thanks for looking out, man,” Zeek states, patting Paw on the shoulder before stepping back.

“Yo, don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do after how cool you were with things when I left.”

Coming around the back of the van, Zeek’s eyes focus on me, Paw’s looking my way, as well. His eyes fall to my cuffs.