“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I just wanted to check on Harley. I didn’t know he was there.”
“It’s okay. No one blames you.”
“Daddy will,” she said, a little hysterical. “I can walk.”
“No, you can’t. You lost your shoes.”
“I wore my slip-on Oxfords today. I shouldn’t have. I won’t ever do it again. Daddy hates my slip-ons. He said it takes away from my uniform. He doesn’t like me to wear pants either. Ladies wear skirts. I’m not a lady though. I can wear pants.”
Grant allowed her to ramble, for which she was grateful. She yapped as he walked up the pedestrian deck and didn’t stop. She jabbered as he made his way down the other side and voices filled the air. But when those voices stopped, it seeped into her brain that Grant had reached everyone and they were staring at her.
Suddenly, Diesel loomed next to her. “Nardo?”
Mattie wasn’t sure how he infused such viciousness into that one word, but he did.
“Wally, Jr.,” she croaked. Her throat was throbbing as much as all the places he’d hit. She started to cry again. Or, maybe, she’d never stopped and she was so…sohysterical—real ladies never lost control—that she didn’t feel her tears. “He…he…don’t tell Daddy, Diesel. Please. He just started loving me again.”
Fury marched across Diesel’s face. “Can you walk?”
She knew what he was asking. “We didn’t have sex. I-I fought him.”
“She’s in her bare feet,” Grant explained. “She probably lost her shoes in the fight.”
“I shouldn’t have worn those shoes. Daddy hates them.”
“Mattie!” Rory cried, running to her and yanking her from Grant. He set her on her feet, then grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “We were in the picnic shelter with Harley. What happened to you?”
“Wally, Jr.,” Diesel said coldly. “I’m wondering if he got to Harley, too.”
“It was Ned Grevenberg, Nardo’s father,” Rory said as Diesel stalked away. “CJ finally got it out of Harley. She didn’t want Mattie to call Uncle Mort because that motherfucker said he’d shoot Uncle Mort down because he was hiding in a place no one could find him but where he could see everything.”
“Mattie!” Axel cried, racing toward her from the direction of the dilapidated shelter. “What happened?” He looked at her feet. “My men and me’ll go to the mall to get you new shoes. Wait here. Okay?”
“No!” Mattie shook her head frantically, sick to her stomach. “I can’t have shoes,” she sobbed. “They won’t be right, Axel. You can’t get them.”
“Do you want socks?” Axel asked, stepping toward her then stopping without anyone telling him to. “What happened?” he asked again.
A lot. Nothing.Everything. “I don’t know.”
“Did somebody hurt you?” he asked.
She started shaking. “I want my mom.”
Axel closed the distance between them and gave her a quick hug before letting her go.
“You need shoes, Matt,” Rory told her. “You can cut your feet.”
“No, please. Daddy will be mad at me and…and…and…” She raised her gaze to her brother, trying to control herself. “I don’t ever want to see those shoes again. But…but I-I need shoes. I–”
Rory’s stricken look left her even more afraid and ashamed. “Please, Rory?” she begged, not sure what she was asking. But one thing she knew: “I want Mama.”
Rory hugged her tightly. “We’ll call her, ” he said gently. “And I swear to you if Dad upsets you, I will gut that motherfucker. He’s the fucking reason this shit is so fucking out-of-hand.”
“We’ll find your shoes, Mattie,” Axel promised, “and toss those motherfuckers in Turn Creek. They’ll be to you like Red Riding Hood is to me. Triggertizing.”
“No, he’s still there. Grant just knocked him out. You can’t go there, Axel,” she sobbed. “He’ll hurt you. He tore my panties off and everything. Please. I love you. All of you. You’re my family. Please.”
“Breathe, Mattie,” Grant told her, in front of her again, his hands on her shoulders.
