Beautiful Outlaw(25)

Squeezing the railing, I raise my voice. “Damn it, Lock. This isn’t good.”

“No, it’s not.” He says, his voice filled with worry. “I’m scared for her, Bowie. I’m scared out of my fuckin’ mind for my baby sister.”

I draw in another puff off my smoke, letting his words sink in. “Like I said, it’s bad, but how does it change anything. I know your Mom told him shit, but she’s sick. The bastard couldn’t know for sure that she wasn’t just talking out of her head. How I see it, we just keep doing what we’re doing. He doesn’t know she’s here, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Even as I say the words, they sound hollow. Like a dream I know will never come true. There is not a doubt in my mind that if the crazy fucker even thinks she’s alive, he’ll be looking for her. My only question is if he will find her or not, and if he does, what the hell can I do to protect her.

“Like I told you, I planted bugs in his place. As soon I got home from the hospital, I pulled his feed up. He was talking to someone on the phone, hired them to do a search on her, on me too.”

“Fuck!” This time, I shout the word. “What can they find? Is there anything linking her to here.”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. I need you to keep her close until I know for sure.”

“She won’t be out of my fuckin’ sight.” I growl out, just as Shay opens the door.

The look on her face is pure agony. There is no doubt in my mind that she has heard everything I’ve said, and each word has cut her to the quick. “Brother, I’ve gotta go. Your sister needs me.”

“Shit, did she hear?” He asks, sounding defeated.

I don’t answer, just mutter goodbye and slide the phone in my pocket. I toss my cigarette over the porch rail and walk straight to her. I wrap my arms around her and start to talk. “It’ll be alright, Shay.”

She leans her head against my chest, wetting the front of my shirt. “My mom’s dying, and I can’t even be there with her. I’m her daughter, and I can’t even say goodbye. Nothing about that is right.”





Letting the Tears Fall


Shay

I hold on to Bowie, until my tears finally start to fade a bit. Carefully, I step back and lift my hand to wipe the proof of my breakdown from my eyes. A few stragglers are still falling down my cheeks, but for the most part, I have gained control.

I move my hand to his shirt and whisper, “I got you all wet, sorry.”

He smiles down to me as he removes his vest and lays it over the porch railing. Still smiling, he reaches for the bottom of his shirt and rips it over his head. Pulling the leather vest back on, he throws the tee over his shoulder. “Problem solved.”

The action was meant to make me laugh, instead I’m too busy staring at his ink-covered chest to even crack a smile. The colors are nearly as mesmerizing as his rippling abs. I continue to stare, until I see the muscles tense and vibrate. I look up just in time to see him smile.

“Shit, I’m the fuckin’ master,” He says with a low chuckle.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, completely lost at his words.

“Most men live a lifetime without finding a way to make their woman quit crying. I figured it out on day one. All I got to do is pull off my shirt, and the tears dry up.”

“Huh?”

His smile grows impossibly broader, before he flexes his abs once more. “It’s good to know from the get go that you like the way I look without my shirt on, just wait ‘til you see the rest.”

His cockiness has my anger rising. Without thinking, the back of my hand goes flying into his rock hard abs. “I can’t believe you.”

“I’d do anything to keep those tears from your eyes,” He says, his face unreadable.

I rub the sting from my hand and look up at him. “My mother is dying, and you’re acting like an idiot. Could you try to be at least a little sympathetic?”

“This is me. I may be a dick, but I do what I gotta do,” Bowie’s eyes go soft, before he reaches out and places a hand on my cheek. “I don’t want to see you crying, Shay. It kills me.”

My anger disappears and is quickly replaced with grief. My mother is dying; she’s really dying. Slowly, I look up at him and whisper, “I’m never going to see her again; am I?”

Without hesitating, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight to his chest. “I don’t know, baby.”

“I want to see her; I need to be with her.” I choke out the words, each one tasting like a bitter pill on my tongue.

The thought of my mother dying without me by her side is tearing me apart. Everything I’ve done, every decision I’ve made, has been for her. Now when she needs me more than ever, I’m hundreds of miles away, living a fairy tale. Just the thought has my tears falling again.