I lifted my head, eyes narrowing. “I already told you.”
She pushed off Angel’s front door, barreling across the porch to me, finger raised. “And you’re going to tell me again, Ash motherfucking Doss!” The finger in my face swiveled back to the house, to where Grayson and Carrie were checking on her. Hayes was on his way back into town.
“I was on my way back to Portland!” I roared, my chest tight. “You know what the hell I was doing! I fucking told you, Margo!”
She tipped her chin higher, her neck tattoo fully visible to me now. “Yell at me again and I’ll knee you in the balls.”
Her threat instantly quieted my anger. My anger wasn’t toward her. In fact, the anger swirling inside my gut, its fumes rising into my chest and suffocating my heart, was being fueled by fear. I never expected to see Angel tonight—or any other day. I’d only come into town to make my amends with Hayes’ firecracker of a bartender, because fuck me, she was my friend. When Hayes told her I was back, she refused to come to the office to see me at my request.
Yes, I was still a part of Red Snake Investigations.
Grayson and Hayes hadn’t had it in their hearts to fire me, despite having every right to.
Margo told me over the phone to “kick rocks and choke on a dick.”
I waited for a week, and when Hayes told me she was standing firm in her decision, I decided I needed a beer and headed to the Buoy. That was a few hours ago, and we’d made amends. It happened after she pounded her fists into my chest and tried to stomp on my foot. It was only when I wrapped her in a tight bear hug that she broke, crying a river of tears into my shirt. That stain had dried up, and it felt like we were back to square one.
I ground my teeth, the sound nearly triggering me. It was equivalent to nails on a fucking chalkboard, but it was the only thing I could do to get a lock on my emotions. “What did youexpect me to do?” I asked my friend softly. “Leave her in the ditch? Drive past and head home as if I hadn’t seen anything?”
“If it had been anyone else—”
I leaned forward, voice cold. “I had no idea who was in the fucking car, Margo. I just acted. It was instinct. Even then, when I got out of the car and saw Angel slumped over in her seat, would you have wanted me to walk away?”
“No!” she yelled. “Of course not! But you could’ve called 911!”
I stretched out my arms wide, chest heaving. “I have medical training, Margo.”
“She hit her head.”
“She refused the fucking ambulance!” I snapped. “She’s within her right to do so.”
She inhaled a sharp breath through her nose, glaring at me as her bottom lip trembled. She was trying to hold it together, to be the strong one because she assumed that’s what I needed. “I don’t need you out here,” I whispered and flicked my eyes to the door. “You’re worried about Angel. Go see Angel.”
Margo opened her mouth but closed it again when Grayson stepped outside. He let the screen door fall shut behind him as he turned to her. “She’s asking for you.”
I tried my best to ignore the pain burning inside.
With a sharp nod to him and an apologetic look to me, she went back inside. Then I braced for Grayson’s lecture. Except it never came. He focused on the rain as he crossed the porch and leaned his arms against the railing.
“You aren’t going to bite my head off?” I drawled, looking at his profile.
He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the murky view of Astoria. We could barely make out the lights through the storm.
“Look, I know I have no right to ask this,” I began, clenching my jaw, “but has she told anyone about how she got out?”
“She hasn’t mentioned it.” He paused. “She’s closest to Margo, but not that close.”
“What do you mean?”
Grayson looked down, watching the raindrops hit the steps. “She’s reserved, but most trafficking survivors are. You and I both know this. She has a routine that she sticks to, according to Margo.”
If it made her feel safe after the nightmare she’d been through, then I didn’t blame her.
“She hasn’t mentioned anything?” I pressed.
“No.”
“Is she in touch with the Safe House Project or the National Survivor Network?”
