“Couch. Water. Pain med,” I briefly ordered.
He complied, putting me on the couch. There wasn’t anyone else there. I wondered where they were. The couch was comfy, almost like a cloud.
“Hey. Hey. No. No. I need you awake.” The man shook me. I guess I had nodded off.
I hummed, urging my mind to focus and be awake. The man opened my hand up and dropped something in it. “Take these for now, and drink something.”
I nodded, attempting to swallow the tablets down. At first it was complicated, but I pushed through in the hope that some swelling would go down.
“You’re safe,mami. He’s coming.”
“Thank you…” I tried to remember his name.
“Otis.” He smiled. Such a charming smile.
“I remember.” I smiled back.
And just like thunder rolling through a storm, so was a booming voice bursting through the door.
“Where is she?” My dark knight rode in.
Chapter 19
Shooter
It could have been worse.
I could have been burying the body right after the fight.
I was held back from doing something that would have taken me back into that dark place. I knew I would have my ass handed to me by Hound when he found out. Probably guard duty or security at the Burlesque club helping Ms. Dolly or even at the Blue Sax. It wouldn’t be extreme but just enough punishment to take me away from what I really wanted, and Hound was no idiot.
Colors had swirled around me, music through my headphones took me away from my thoughts, from the memories that would flash from time to time. Paint spread across my canvas; when I couldn’t shed blood, paint was a substitute. I’m not like one of the greats, I’m not that good compared to others where you see their passion, their commitment. But it was good enough for my eyes and my thoughts.
After the fight, once everyone cleared up, I escaped to Whispers. A legal business that the club started a few years back when the pandemic happened and people couldn’t use openspaces with other artists to express their passions. So, one of the few legal businesses we had was someone’s solitude and gift. Someone’s escape into their own world, in a safe manner.
Myself, I took one of those spaces, somewhat to keep an eye on the place, but also to escape into my own world.
I started coming more when Amelia started coming into our lives. Art was my distraction. But some days when I held the paintbrush in my hand, I imagined her as my canvas, swirling the brush along her skin. Even in the beginning, she was always on my mind.
Pinks and oranges crowded the canvas, but streaks of black hid under the bright colors. A true depiction of my mind. Pink and orange were her favorite colors, and the black was me intertwining with her.
All I could think about was ending that bastard’s life and giving her that happy ending. And of course, to finally make her mine.
My hand started to cramp, I needed to take a break. I didn’t know how long I had been in the studio, but time didn’t matter when I got there.
Buzzing from my phone pulls me out of a trance. Bright light shone on my face seeing the frantic texts and missed calls. All from the brothers. One call pulled up, Waylan.
Once answered, hell broke through and wanted to unleash everything I just bottled up. “Man, get back to the compound now.”
I brushed my hand through my pulled back hair. “What happened?”
“She’s here, man. She’s not looking good.”
I held my breath, replaying those words. It was enough to have me bolting through the hallway of the nearly empty building, burst through the doors and ran to my bike. The rain didn’t let up, but I didn’t care. Pouring rain became like wet bullets alongmy ride. Dark skies covered above, muscle memory took over navigating the long roads until I could reach the compound gate. I didn’t stop, didn’t wait for it to be fully open.
I was the bat out of hell, with one purpose.
As soon as the main house came into view, not wanting to ruin my bike completely, I stopped, threw down the kick stand, and bolted through the front door.
