Page 14 of Hiding In the Dark (The Righteous 4)
“Oh shoot, the food and jacket. One second.” The manager of the place smiled and held out the items that had been set aside for her. She ran back, her eyes the happiest he’d seen, but she was out of breath, her hand darting to her chest.
“Are you okay?” he asked, worry creping into his tone.
She rubbed at the spot over her heart that he knew held a long scar. “I will be—too much excitement for one day. Come on. My mom will be worried by now.”
He doubted that, but he held his tongue. He shouldn’t be angry at Chelsea. She was just like everyone else out there doing what they could to survive, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Zumi following in her footsteps. Prostituting her body to men and being hooked on alcohol and drugs to make it through the day was not what he wanted for her. She deserved better than that, and she deserved a chance to live her dreams to the fullest.
As he predicted, Chelsea hadn’t noticed Zumi was gone all day, but she sure did scarf down the brown paper bag of food they’d brought from the shelter without a thank you. He left mother and daughter to argue over what to save for the next day.
Flopping down on his cot, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but all he saw was a stunning smile framed by hair that looked like spun gold. After all this time, he never thought he’d see her again, and certainly not at Salvation Place. What had she been doing there? Was she a volunteer? Was she there fixing something, or maybe checking it out to move in? That last thought was ridiculous, and there was no way she was living there. For all he knew, he’d never see her again, and their one chance moment to reconnect had run out the door as quickly as she had.
Grabbing his knife, he crossed his arms over his chest and wondered what her lips tasted like—he smirked as he remembered she always wore strawberry lip gloss. It was her signature scent. His cock stirred as he pictured ravaging that sweet mouth. He fell asleep with her blue eyes vivid in his mind.
The fire danced in the confines of the makeshift bonfire rings somebody had crafted together. It was brilliant, really—they’d taken metal barrels and cut them into thirds. He loved the camping vibe the simple act had created. The flames cast shadows on the faces of those he trusted most in this world sitting around, boots on the rims, beers in hand.
“Alright, Ringo, your turn. What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?” Morry asked.
“You mean besides fuck my girlfriend to death while eating a cheeseburger with bacon?”
“That’s a given,” she countered as the group laughed.
“I can tell you what I am not going to do. I’m never going to a fucking beach again. I never want to see sand again for as long as I live. I don’t want to feel the shit down my pants or have the fucking stuff squish between my toes. That, ladies and gents, is what I don’t want.”
“I will second that,” Trev said, his arm wrapped around Mel’s shoulders.
“I will third that. Amen to a hot fucking shower and no sand.” TK raised his beer and clinked bottles with Morry. The rest of the group followed suit like it was a bad omen not to.
“Aww, and here I was going to take you out on my boat when we got back, show you a real California party.” Kes smiled at his friend.
“Oh, I can handle the boat and the water, just as long as I don’t have to walk across any motherfucking sand to get to it.” Ringo took a swig of his beer.
“Wait a minute. Why are we not invited to this boat?” Arek asked. “I want to party.”
Kes leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he hit Arek with a deadpan stare. “Honestly, man, you’re just not pretty enough.”
The group erupted into another round of laughter as Arek stood. “You think so?” Kes watched in horror as Arek pulled the green T-shirt off over his head and flexed for the group like a WWE wrestler. The entire group was officially in hysterics as Arek kissed first one bicep and then the other. “Look at these guns, and you can’t say no to these abs. I’m a fucking chick magnet.” He pointed to the washboard abs. “The bat signal has nothing on these babies.” Arek tapped his abs with his fingers like he was playing a baby grand piano.
“For the love of God, tell him he’s pretty so he can go and put his shirt back on before I go blind.” Ringo held his hand up like he was blocking out the sun.
“Fine, you can come, Arek. You all know it’s an open invitation—if we make it back, that is.” A somber silence washed over the group as the reality of the deadly mission they were going to be undertaking in a few days settled over them. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.” Reaching out, he nudged Ringo’s arm. “Why don’t you sing us a song?”
Kes leaned down and grabbed his acoustic guitar, running his thumb down the strings to make sure his girl was still in tune.
“I don’t know.” Ringo downed the rest of his beer, the plain brown glass bottle dangling between his fingertips.
“Come on, man. You’re like a legend. Let’s hear this gift from the gods.” Morry tipped her beer bottle in Ringo’s direction.
“Okay, fine, but only ‘cause I can’t say no to that pout. Kes, give me an E.” Ringo stood as a flash that was wholly unnatural lit up the night sky in the distance. They all turned to look in the direction of the flash as targets, one-by-one, were taken out by drone strikes. The bright flashes were easily seen even from miles away.
Kes restarted the song, “Ride the Lightning,” and this time, Ringo sang the song that had become their anthem. It was the song the two of them sang every time they flew into danger and every time they made it out again with their dicks still intact.
“I was born on the wild side,” he sang out.
A rumble in the distance announced another target had been hit.
“Ride the lightning, feel the thunder.”
Kes stood and tossed the guitar strap around his neck as he let the music flow out of him. A soft breeze swirled around them, the flames of the bonfire dancing higher and raising goosebumps along his arms.
