Questions make me defensive and clam up, ashamed of a life I willingly walked into. When no questions come, it’s easier to tell them what happened, even if I can’t tell them all of it now, or maybe ever.
“Jeremiah said I was a leprosy,” I say, remembering how it felt to be looked at like nothing. Everyone turned their back on me. Shunned me. I told myself I didn’t like them, love them, or want their friendship. But their rejection still hurt. Even now, it hurts. “And she went into the desert, and there she died. That’s what Jeremiah said.”
A death sentence I hadn’t known was coming until it was too late to run. Words that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
“Vonn broke a guy’s finger getting info out of him,” Makhi announces, and Vonn curses.
“Jeez, don’t tellherthat,” Vonn snaps. “Shit.” He shoots me a reluctant glance as if afraid to see what my reaction will be.
Shocked, my eyes slide from Vonn to Makhi, and back again. “What?”
“It was a guard from the compound,” Makhi explains with a tired yawn, blind or indifferent to the dark glare Vonn is aiming at him. “Sat on his chest and everything. It was impressive theguy didn’t immediately piss himself. I would have shit my pants.Literally.”
Vonn shuffles away from me, all while glaring at Makhi.
“No filter at all,” Nash mutters, shaking his head.
“Why are you moving away?” I ask Vonn.
“In case you’re afraid of me.”
I give him a long, thoughtful look, taking time to consider how I feel. “You said the army taught you how to save people.”
“It did.” Vonn’s pause is two beats long. “They also taught me how easy it is to kill… and do other things that you don’t need to know about. Nash was right. Makhi has no filter.”
I take his hand and squeeze it. “Thank you for saving me. Even if that included breaking a man’s finger to find me.”
His hard face softens, and I know he would have broken a lot more than that. He killed the gardener when the gardener put his hands on me. I look at Vonn, and I see a man who would do anything to protect me because right from the start, that’s what he’s always done.
The pounding on a door startles me awake when I don’t remember falling asleep.
Raised voices grow louder.
I wrench my eyelids open. The sun fills my room, and I’m alone. There’s no sign of Vonn, Makhi, or Nash.
In the entryway, voices are rising.
I get out of bed and tiptoe to the door, pushing it to see what’s going on, and soon wish I hadn’t.
Nance is complaining. A man in a sheriff’s uniform is ignoring her.
Another cop in uniform is eyeing Vonn closely with one hand hovering near the gun tucked in his belt.
Makhi is cursing as he glares at the sheriff, who finishes reading Nash his rights and yanks him away from the wall by the handcuffs he snapped behind his back.
Nash must feel me watching, though I don’t make a sound.
He turns, looks right at me, eyes bleary like someone yanked him from sleep seconds before. He smiles slightly and mouths, “It will be okay.”
The sheriff spots me then, and his eyes narrow as they sweep up and down me. As if he’s memorizing my face. His stare is that intense.
His lips flatten, and he turns away. Using his tight grip on Nash’s handcuffs, he pushes Nash out of the open front door. The other cop, still eyeing Vonn warily, follows him out and slams the door behind them.
Makhi starts kicking a wall as I push the door open and step outside.
“What’s going on?” I ask Vonn, who’s pulling his cell phone from his pocket.
Vonn glances at me, and though he intends for his smile to be reassuring, it’s tight with strain. “Sheriff arrested Nash.”
