“That wasn’t nearly as bad as ye thought it would be, now was it?” I said lightly as I escorted her from the mess hall. “In fact, I think ye even made some friends.”
“Maybe,” Arabella agreed, smiling as we walked down the hall. But the smile was replaced by a puzzled frown. “I didn’t see my father at dinner though.”
I shrugged. “He’s the commander. Maybe he uses dinner hour to catch up on work, because he knows everyone will be too busy stuffing their faces to interrupt him.”
“So you think everything’s just going to go back to normal, huh?” Mack’s sharp voice cut Arabella off mid-laugh as he walked around the corner. He raked Arabella with a scathing look. “You can just keep on using people and throwing them away, but it’s cool because you’re the commander’s daughter and they’ll just come flocking back to you anyway?”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Arabella snapped, taking a step forward before I did. “I never ‘used’ Jax. We were partners.”
“Sure you were,” Mack said. “That’s why you put her needs above all others, right? Because the two of you were wing mates? Jax never could bring herself to find another wing mate, and now I understand why. You’ve been dragging her down all along, and she didn’t even know it.” He spat at Arabella’s feet.
“How dare ye speak to her that way!” I snarled, stepping in between them. “I dinnae ken what bug crawled up yer arse, or how it can even fit there with the stick ye’ve got shoved in with it, but ye need to apologize to the lass. Or I’ll take that stick out and beat ye with it until ye can barely stand.”
“No,” Arabella said, her voice full of anger. I turned to see her glaring at Mack with a combination of hate and self-loathing. “He’s not worth fighting over. He just thinks that he can make things up to Jax by attacking me, instead of trying to fix the reasons their relationship never worked out.” Her lip curled. “Namely, his inability to keep his dick in his pants.”
Mack’s face paled, and he stepped back. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about—”
“Oh, but I do.” Arabella stalked forward, meeting Mack nose to nose. My heart swelled with pride as she jabbed her finger fearlessly into his chest, sending him on the defensive now. “Jax gave me her memories, so I know everything she does. I may not deserve her, but neither do you, Mack. So stop trying to pretend you’re the righteous one.”
She shouldered past him, and I had to hurry after her as she stormed down the hall. “Lass,” I began, about to compliment her on grabbing the bastard by the proverbial jewels.
“Brodie, please.” Arabella stopped, her voice pained. Her gaze was so rife with anguish that my heart broke. “I’m not mad at you, but I just need some space right now. Can you give me an hour? I’m going to go sit with Jax.”
“Aye,” I said, a little taken aback. “I can. Do ye ken where we’re supposed to sleep?”
“There are guest quarters on the fourth floor.” Arabella touched my arm, a bittersweet smile curving her lips. “Thanks for looking out for me, Brodie. It really means a lot to me.”
“Yer welcome,” I said softly, wishing I could reach out to her. Wishing I could kiss away the pain in those beautiful eyes.
But I couldn’t, so I watched her walk away from me, prepared to deal with the pain in her own way. As she had always done—alone.
25
Arabella
“Thank God,” I muttered as I pushed the manhole cover up and hauled myself onto the street. I thought I’d never make it out of those disgusting sewage tunnels. A car sped past me, honking its horn, and my heart pounded at the near miss. Glancing quickly to make sure all was clear, I rushed across the street and to the safety of the sidewalk before I became street pizza.
Brodie would never forgive me if I got myself killed tonight. Especially because I’d lied to him about where I was going.
Letting out a little sigh, I tucked my hands into my jean pockets and began walking up Vermont. I felt bad about deceiving Brodie, but I knew that he’d demand to come with me if I told him I wanted a walk. And right now, I needed my space. I needed to go somewhere else, where I could sit and think without having to worry about judgmental stares following my every step.
The daggers I’d tucked into my boots were a comforting weight as I walked the chilly evening streets, past the bums that huddled in the shadows, and the trendy residents that were window shopping. I’d grabbed them from the armory before I’d taken the secret entrance I’d gleaned from Jax’s memories that led me about a half-mile from the Watchtower, back into civilization.
The first thing I did was stop at an AT&T store to get myself a new phone. Back in Bakersfield, I’d managed to squeeze in a trip to the bank to get my debit card reissued, so I had access to cash once again. As the store associate helped me activate the phone, I felt almost giddy when the screen lit up, and my cloud data synced to the device. Holy crap, I was connected to the world again! I could check my messages, make some phone calls. Surf the web.
And just who are you going to call, anyway?
My heart sank at that. Who would I call? My training officer back in Portland? He must be worried sick, but I didn’t want him asking too many questions. It was best not to get the police involved at all—I’d have to ask my father about the best way to handle my old life. I thanked the associate, then headed back out into the cold, chasing my thoughts around in my head. It was so strange to think that the house I thought I’d grown up in, the house that Lucas had burned to the ground, wasn’t even my parents’ house at all. Perhaps my father had bought it for me, but he and my mother had never lived with me in there. It was all a fabrication.
What else in my life was a fabrication?
I walked for a few blocks, then ducked into a Starbucks for a cup of hot chocolate. Sitting at the bar with my steaming paper cup, I took cautious sips of the delicious brew as I scrolled through my messages. Lots from my training officer, and the cadets I’d been forming cautious friendships with. One from Millie, my neighbor. A couple from news stations.
Just as I was deleting the last one—thank God for voice-to-text voicemail—my phone started ringing. Surprised, I nearly dropped the damn thing, and instead sloshed hot cocoa all over my left hand.
“Shit!” I swore, grabbing some napkins and scrubbing at my burning skin. The phone continued ringing, and I glanced at the number. Three-two-three—that was Hollywood, I thought. Was someone from the Watchtower calling? Brodie might have noticed I wasn’t with Jax. I was half-tempted not to answer, but I didn’t want him to worry.
“Hello?”
