My brain went through a thousand scenarios of what could have happened with Candace and Lou. Obviously, Candace found the phone I paid for, not that I’d ever understand why Lou felt the need to hide it. But surely that isn’t what made her lose her shit. Maybe she was just high and went into a drug-induced rage?
I ran inside, leaving the door flapping against the wall behind me. The scent of burnt chemicals hung in the air as I dashed down the darkened hallway toward the screaming.
Candace held the handle, her feet braced at either side of the door, yelling, “Just be nice to D’Jon, Loula Mae. He’s not gonna hurt you if you behave. I need the money; I’ll even give you a little.”
My stomach went rock hard as I bellowed. “Lou? I’m here. What the fuck are you doing, Candace?”
Candace held tight to the door handle. “Now, Buck. This is none of your business. Get on home.”
A muffled cry came through the door, followed by a solid thump.
“I’m not going anywhere without Lou.”
Candace turned as I approached.
She put up her fists, as though she could stop me from getting to Lou. “You get on outta here. This is family business.”
“Lou is my family. Get out of the way, or I swear to God Almighty, I’ll move your ass.”
“Now, Buck—”
I’d never laid my hands on a woman in anger, but it wasn’t anger driving me—it was fear. I took hold of Candace’s shoulders, picking her up and shoving her aside.
I tried the handle on the door, but it was locked. With one kick it was open. Some dude had Lou at the foot of the bed, a towel crumpled at his feet. He held her face down into the mattress, his hand working his belt buckle loose.
Something primal rose from deep in my gut and pushed out a roar as I grabbed the asshole who was hurting my girl.
I had him on the floor, one fist holding his shirt collar, the other connecting with his face, his throat, his ear, wherever I could make contact. I pulled him up between punches only to crack his head against the fake hardwood with the next one. He pushed at me, his legs flailing behind me. But fury flowed through my limbs, and there was no letting go. Not as long as I had breath in my over tight lungs.
Candace jumped on my back, pulling my hair and scratching at my eyes.
“Get off me.” I staggered back, losing my balance and slamming her against the wall.
Candace fell off, and I stood straight. I lunged for the piece of shit lying on the floor with his hands over his fucking face, but movement at the head of the bed caught my eye.
Lou huddled under the blanket, peeking out past the knees drawn to her chest, her teary eyes frightened. I kicked the asshole in his ribs and stepped over him. I gathered the blanket around her.
Candace hunched over the fucker’s face, patting his bloodied cheeks, screaming like a banshee. “You killed him! You little bastard, you killed D’Jon.”
I hiked Lou to my chest, blanket and all, and dodged Candace’s grasping hand as I darted out the door.
A touch at my lower back pulls me from my nightmare of a memory, one that still occasionally haunts me when I sleep. I usually break out of it, sitting bolt upright in bed, covered in cold sweat, so thankful I got to her in time.
The girl I carried out of this shit-ass excuse for a house stands before me, smiling and beautiful. I swallow the panic still lingering from the memory too real to completely ignore.
Lou’s hair is mussed and tangled from a night of making love. “Hey, I brought you some coffee. You okay? You look like you’ve got a bad case of indigestion.”
I take the cup and pull her to my chest, resting my chin on the top of her head. “I’ll never regret getting you out of that house. I’m sorry things didn’t go the way you wanted, and that you’re still angry. But I can’t wish it was different.”
She stiffens and pulls away. Wiping the dew from a clump of grass with bare toes tipped in purple, she expels a heavy breath and shrugs.
I push the hair from her eyes, sliding my hand to the back of her neck. “I missed you, Lou.”
She backs up, not even raising her eyes to look at me before she turns and walks away.
EIGHTEEN
My hands cradle my head as I sit on the side of the bed Buck and I just climbed out of not even an hour ago.
How is it possible to wake up feeling the world might just be smiling on me, only to have old memories explode like a roadside IED, ruining the day, maybe even the week.
Mom had threatened to do it; a hundred times she’d said it.
“Someday you’re gonna pay me back for all I do for you. That little twat you’ve got. It’s worth some money. We’ll sell it to the highest bidder and make a mint. I sure as hell wish we’d had the internet when I was your age. I’d have had a nice little nest egg.”