Page 56 of Lay Me Down
The moment I enter, Viking leaves his chair in the corner to stand next to Grease. He still looks intimidating with his burly size and wrestler-like muscles. His shoulders are covered by a T-shirt and his vest, so I can’t see the scars that Damien and Grease left for him, but I’m sure they’re there. Grease turns his gaze to the door and pays no attention to the woman on his lap—even as she cowers.
“Ashia? This is a shock.” Grease sits up and taps the girl on the leg like he wants her to get up, but she doesn’t. She just fists his shirt and tucks her head down like I’ll start to hit her or something. I kind of feel bad, but I don’t even glance in her direction, because she’s obviously not in any danger. Not with me, anyway.
“I would like a word with you. Alone,” I demand, looking at him directly. I’m careful not to drift my gaze to Viking for multiple reasons. First, he was a jackass the last time I was here. I tried to warn him about what Damien would do to him if he forced me into that truck, but he didn’t listen. Then, he wanted to cause a rift in the relationship between our two groups becausehefucked up.
Secondly, I don’t want him to know that I’m going to question Grease abouthim. That’s a conversation I know won’t go over well, and I don’t have the time or patience to care about his feelings.
“I don’t think so,” Viking says as he reaches for his belt, but stops once Grease holds his hand up.
“I’ll give you a few minutes,” Grease agrees and turns his attention to the woman on his lap. “Anda y sal de aquí, mujer.” She nods, gets up, and walks out without issue. Her gaze doesn’t even leave the floor as she walks past, and something tells me she’s a usual ‘sweet butt.’ Zeke and Alex hold the door for her and turn to us—waiting on Viking to do the same. Grease turns his attention to him, like he’s having to direct a child. “Haz lo que te digo, hijo de puta. Aquí, no tenemos problemas.”
Viking glances at Grease with a look I can’t quite decipher. There’s anger there, like they have a lot of unresolved problems, but there’s also some worry mixed in. I imagine he’s afraid we’re here to hurt him after everything we’ve done the past six days, but that’s not the case. He glares at me as he walks out, but I'm sure to keep my eyes ahead—not wanting to show him any weakness. Grease’s posture instantly relaxes the moment the doors close, and it’s just the two of us.
“You look good, mama. How you feeling?” He nods to me, gesturing to my stomach. I grin at him and look down, noticing how my eighteen-week belly is still visible regardless of the vest.
“Good, thanks. I hope you're doing well,” I reply as I look back at him.
“Better than we were.”
“That’s good to hear.” I look up to the corner of the room to see a security camera. I raise a brow, curious as to why he would need it in his own office, but I don’t ask that question. “Does that work?” I point to it instead.
“Yeah, but only I have access,” he reassures me, like I’m supposed to believe that.
“Turn it off,” I demand, and he squints his eyes at me. His face tells me that it’s not about the demand, though. He’s curious. For some reason, he already trusts me, and we’ve barely spoken to one another. I suppose I can thank Damien for that as well. “I need to besurethis stays between us. That’s all.” He nodsonce and types away on his keyboard, and when he dips his chin again, I see the red light on the camera turn off.
“What’s going on?” he questions, and crosses his arms across his chest.
“I need your help,” I say a little softer, but there’s an edge to it that I didn’t expect. I’m not just assuming he’ll help me or anything, but there’s also not a reason for him to deny me.
“Come on now, you're not trying to run off into the sunset alone, are ya?”
My body runs hot at his question. The fire that’s been burning inside of me since Damien went missing is something that I can’t control, and he doesn’t know that he’s pushing the wrong buttons. I understand that he helps abused women escape violent situations, but it pisses me off that he would insinuate something like that about Damien. Whether he’s joking or not, it rubs me the wrong way.
“Damien’s missing,” I say pointedly, and his friendly smirk slowly disappears. “So, fuck your bullshit assumption.”
“I'm sorry. It was a joke. A bad one, obviously. How long?”
“Two weeks,” I tell him, and his face turns stern, like he’s actually concerned. “I know you have scouts and lookouts all around the city. We can’t find anything. We can’t find his bike, or any evidence of him around town after he left the Attic. Would you please check with your surveyors and ask that they send youanythingweird from September first? Just…don't tell your men why, or make something up. I don't want things between our groups getting any worse.” He nods again, instantly agreeing to my request, and I lay a piece of paper on his desk. “It has my info as well as Carter’s. Just send everything to us.” He takes the paper and pockets it. While normally that would give me a warning signal, I believe Grease will actually make use of it. “Your men wouldn’t have done this. Would they?”
He quickly shakes his head.
“Nah. Tensions are high, but they're not stupid.”
“What about Viking?”
He freezes for a moment, and a doubt blooms in his eyes, but then it fades away just as quickly.
“No, he couldn’t. He hasn’t been allowed away from me since he’s been back, and he hasn’t had the time. I’ve been keeping him busy and under watch.”
“But do you think he would've done something to Damien if he had the chance?” I ask seriously, and Grease locks onto a single place on his desk. It’s clear that he’s really considering the possibility with his firm face and creased lips, but after a few moments of thinking it over, he decides on a reply.
“No. He's really more upset at himself than anything. His anger towards Damien is misplaced. He just doesn't know how to deal with the guilt.” His answer shows conviction, and I can see that he really believes that Viking wouldn't do this. I nod at him and try like hell to keep my composure. This would be so much simpler if it was Viking that took Damien, but obviously, we’re not that lucky in this life. “What about this new group that joined you? A few of my guys say they’re Sahara?”
“What about them?” I stare at him and keep my gaze strong, not wanting to go into too much detail too quickly.
“Can’t they help you?”
“I'm not asking for shit from Satori.” Stronger flutters roll around in my belly, so I take one of the empty chairs and sit opposite of him. Daisy sits between my legs and stands tall to stare at Grease over the desk. He narrows his eyes again in genuine confusion.
