Page 23 of Framed for Life
“What part?” I ask with a deep, rusty voice.
“He put me in the hospital. That’s what the restraining order is for.”
Visions of mayhem fill my head. “He’s never touching you again, Katie-girl. You’re safe here. That motherfucker’s gonna pay.”
“You can’t kill him,” she warns, wrapping her arms around my waist.
The old, dark, monster inside of me silently replies, accidents happen.
Instead of saying that aloud, I ask, “You just want him scared?”
“I… I think that would be nice. It sounds so weird hearing myself say that, but my whole life changed after the attack. I’m scared of the slightest noises. I can’t sleep in the dark. I have four deadbolts.”
I’m iced-over with fury. She wants him scared. I’ll fucking scare him right into the grave.
“You sleep in my bed now, sweetheart. No one is getting to you. Ever again.”
I hold Katie tight, planning my revenge until loud voices in the hallway cut into the silence.
A low knock rumbles on the door.
“That’s probably the Prez, coming to suss out this situation.” I kiss the top of her head, moving to the door.
Like an idiot, I don’t look out through the peephole.
“Skull,” Heidi purrs. “I just got here and wanted to see if you have some time to?—”
Her mouth stops moving, but her eyes don’t as they land on Katie.
Chapter Twelve
The men wear leather… the women don’t wear much it seems.
“Who is that?” the woman at the door asks, tugging at her tube top. If you can call it that. It’s more like one of those strips they tie around your arm when getting your blood drawn.
“That’s my girl,” Skull says and moves to block her view of me before he adds, “Get lost, Heidi. You’re not welcome here.”
There’s sputtering on the other side of Skull’s massive body, but I can’t see a single thing, except a pair of legs that must be five feet long and a pair of heels that make my ankles scream from looking at them.
I don’t know what he says to her, but she spins on those spikes and struts away.
He closes the door. Not slams, but closes it and presses his forehead against it.
After heaving a great sigh, he mutters. “Fucking hell.”
For whatever reason, I walk to where he’s leaning against the door. “Was she your…girlfriend?”
I stumble over the word.
“No. Never.” He turns his head, keeping his forehead against the door, but looking down at me. “I didn’t ever have girlfriends.”
“But she seemed…”
“I fucked her.”
This stings like a slap. “Oh. I mean… I guess I can understand. She’s got great legs. But are you still…together?”
He whirls around and crushes me to his chest, burying his nose in my hair. “I’m sorry.”
