Devil You Know(27)

My fingers tingle when I retract my hand. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“Yeah, I do.”

I lift my chin to catch his intense stare. Damned if I know what his beef is, or if it centers on me, but whatever his problem I can’t help feeling as if I’m bearing the brunt of it.

“What time do I need to be at the police station?”

“We, Jane. We need to be there at ten.”

I nod, and shove my mouth full of food. If I don’t have to talk, I can’t possibly make this conversation any more awkward than it already is. He dives in opposite me, and we eat in uncomfortable silence.

The mood continues while we share the task of cleaning the dishes, and then get ready to leave for town. Certain that Rocco has no way to escape the yard while we’re gone, I get in to the passenger seat of the pick-up where Malice is waiting for me. He looks briefly at me, and then pulls his sunglasses down. The pick-up starts down the driveway, taking the silence of the house with it.

This is going to be the longest ride, ever.





I DON’T know what to say to her. Most of the time I keep my trap shut in case what spews out is something totally inappropriate for our situation. Something like, ‘I need to feel your body on mine.’

Forty minutes later we pull into the parking lot behind the police station, shrouded in the same silence we left the house in. She’s on edge—I can tell from the way she picks at her nails. It’s not right. This is going to be one of the most monumental moments of her life when she looks back on it, and the memory shouldn’t be one that will bring her pain.

Jane gets out of the pick-up before I can pull the keys from the ignition. I have to hustle to catch her, but damned if she’s going in there like this.

“Stop,” I instruct, taking her elbow.

She looks at the contact, then up to my eyes. I drop her arm.

“What?”

“You’re amazing for doing this. You know that, right?”

“I don’t feel so amazing right now.” She laughs weakly.

“You are.” I take a step closer, and feel the first pulls of that fucking magnetism she has over me.

Jane watches an ant make its lonely journey across the ground at our feet. “As much as I hated living with him, and wished every day for a way out, now that I’m on the other side it’s scary.”

“I get that.”

“I never thought freedom could be so overwhelming.” She pulls her head so low I can’t see her eyes, and I can bet why.

“Nothing worth having is easy to get.”

She nods, and a sniffle escapes from behind the hand she uses to cover her mouth.

Instinct makes me put my arms around her, and I pull her close to me, right there, in the middle of a police station parking lot. Her arms encircle my waist, and Jane gives her body over to me: relaxing in my embrace, and openly crying.

Before today, a woman crying in my arms would have sent me packing, running a hundred miles in the opposite direction. Yet now, the need to have her release her pain leaves me with the urge to squeeze her dry like a sponge.

A few minutes pass before she gets her breathing under control. She tugs free, and looks up at me, red-eyed, and beautiful.

“Thank you. I needed that.”

“I know you did.”

She doesn’t hesitate or protest as I entwine my fingers with hers, and we walk hand-in-hand to the station doors. Her palm grows clammy, and I can only begin to imagine how terrifying it must be, going up against the tyrant who has held her hostage for so many years. Reporting the guy is akin to poking the hornet’s nest. But this time, the aggravation is necessary.

While she stands at reception, talking through forms with the officer, I wait in the bank of seats beside the locked door that leads to the rest of the station. I watch her movements, her nerves laid out on display, and lose myself thinking of what will happen to that fucker she married.

Will he lose his job over the conviction? Will his family disown him? The asshole could be left to die in a tank of piranhas and I wouldn’t be satisfied that he’d suffer adequate pain. Who does this kind of thing to their spouse? To the one they’re supposed to love, and cherish? Who fucking does this?

Jane turns, and finds me watching her interactions with the officer. She gives me a small smile, and focuses on what the policeman is saying again. I store that image of her happy, if only a little bit, into the memory banks for later. One day I plan to replace it with the memory of her laughing, but until I can crack through her habitual sadness, I’ll take what I can get.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I step out the front to take the call.

“Hey, quitter,” Ty greets.

“Hey, Romeo.”