Objective (Bloodlines #2)(49)

I pull my cell from my pocket and dial Ezra. I lean against the hood of the car and on the third ring he picks up.

“You set?” he clips.

“Yes.”

“Shit,” he hisses.

“What?” I ask.

“I’ll send someone to you. Where’d you break down?” he says covertly.

“I don’t need someone. I’m fine,” I bark into the phone.

“Fuck, Cane, I can hear it in your voice, son. You’ve gone soft,” he growls at me.

“Jesus, Ez, calm down.” I grind my palm into one of my eyes to relieve the building pressure. I can’t let him figure things out. “No one’s soft. She put up a damn good fight and I’m f*ckin’ exhausted,” I lie.

“You know the rules, we don’t discuss business on the phone,” he booms.

“Sorry. Tired,” I retort and sigh.

“This is the best way. You know that. We’ve discussed why countless times.”

“I’m aware and I’ll be back in four days,” I say snidely.

“Four?” I knew this would be an issue for him. Get the job done and get the hell home. Those were my directives.

“Four,” I repeat firmly.

“Unacceptable. You have a meeting in two.” I want to pound my phone into the dirt. My meeting is a shipment of guns coming in. New sellers make my uncle nervous and therefore all hands on deck are required for this new shipment coming in. God forbid something goes awry and a full on war breaks out.

“Uncle E,” I plead, trying not to sound weak. Weakness is not tolerated in my world. “It’ll be four days.” I snap the phone closed and toss it on the rock at my feet before stomping on it. It’s probably compromised now anyways. I’ll have to get a new burner when we leave.

I turn around to head back inside but Mags is sitting on the step of the house, watching me intently. She’s breathtaking even with a bruised face. Her black hair hangs down around her breasts hiding all the good bits from view. She isn’t smiling or crying or scared. She’s just watching me, observing.

“Morning!” I call out as I start towards her. She doesn’t reply or move in any noticeable way at all.

“Mags?” I try again, starting to wonder if something is wrong.

“Sorry...” she mutters and shakes her head like she was waking up. When I reach the step I stop and sit next to her. She flinches slightly as I do and it kills me. All I ever wanted to do was protect this woman and now I’m the one she fears. She remains silent and still and it makes me nervous. I watch her stare out at the bleak landscape that surrounds us, unmoving. Her face is hard and unreadable and it breaks my heart. Who has she become?





Chapter 16





“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye.”-Jim Henson


My sunglasses are on, the music is jacked and I'm driving with one hand on the wheel and one around Mags. She's stiff in my arms as if she doesn't trust me still. She's holding back. There's a little sun left to burn in the sky, and a breeze blows into the open window and whips her hair around. With nothing but the two lane country road ahead I let myself slip into the ease that is me and Mags. I want to give this to her, to us. I want what was stolen from us. She sighs quietly and as she exhales I feel the tension and stiffness in her release. She molds to me and swipes her thumb back and forth across my thigh. It's everything and not enough all at once. My brain doesn't compute our reality, how we got here. There is nothing left outside of the two of us. I need her more than I need air to breathe. I thought I was living the last year, but now it's painfully obvious that I was merely existing. I was simply not dead. I squeeze her to me gently and relish the feeling of her pressed into me. Her silence worries me, she’s holding back so much, I can sense it. We’re both feeling each other out. Testing boundaries. It’s strange to feel this way after sharing our lives for so long.

“So where are we going?” she asks.

“I thought we could do Nashville, Lexington, maybe check out Virginia...” I stop because I don’t want to mention home. We both know what that means and I don’t want to bring it up now.

“How 'bout Blacksburg, Virginia?” she suggests.

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s where I got my tattoo,” she admits quietly.

“Yeah? Tell me about that,” I push. She moves out of my arms and leans her back against the passenger side door to face me. I watch from the corner of my eye as she tucks her legs under herself and starts to blabber on about some tatt shop in Blacksburg. She’s animated, smiling and vibrant. She is just as I remember, just the way she was when I fell in love her. I listen to her go on and on about the woman who did her tattoo, her daughter and the two hot men she met there. I grit my teeth a little listening to her gush about these two apparently super-hot men but I keep myself in check for her benefit. She’s mine. She always will be, but now’s not the time to get into that. My shirt hangs on her so much so that you can’t even see her shorts. We’ll have to remedy that soon. I can’t have her wandering around shoeless and dressed like a vagrant. She’s got her hair braided loosely over one shoulder, no makeup on, and wearing pretty much just my t-shirt, yet she couldn't be any more attractive right now, even with her cuts and black eyes.