“Let’s check the exit out back and see if they left a trace,” Saint suggests.
I tuck one gun in my shoulder holster and open the back door with my free hand. I push the door and swing it open and immediately I’m looking down the barrel of a Colt .45.
“Back up, motherfucker!”
“Jeanette!” Saint yells. As soon as she sees him her eyes start to water, but she turns the gun on him.
“I said back up!” she screams, and Saint and I stop instantly. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but this chick means business.
“Where’s Layla?” I ask calmly. I don’t want to spook her, but I need my woman. Now.
I look around, and I don’t see her. There are a few abandoned cars out here but nothing much else.
Jeanette shakes a little and it’s evident she’s shed a few tears, but the girl is tough as nails as she aims her gun at me and Saint. This isn’t her first time with a firearm. I look her up and down and notice she’s barefoot, dressed only in tiny shorts and a ripped sheet that’s tied around her chest.
“Mama, listen to me. It’s me, baby. It’s Saint and Carter. We aren’t going to hurt you. We are here to save you. Put the gun down and come here.”
She shakes her head a little as if to clear out what he just said. “Put your guns down. I don’t trust anyone right now.”
Saint immediately puts his on the ground and kicks it away. He gets on his knees and puts his hands behind his head. “Jeanette, come here, Mama. You know how much I love being on my knees in front of you.”
Jeanette cracks a small smile, and I make my move. I quickly grab her arm and twist her hand back a little. Not hurting her, just applying enough pressure to get her fingers to release without pulling the trigger. In a matter of seconds I have her disarmed, and I push her towards Saint. He catches her and wraps her up in his arms. Jeanette struggles for only a second before she melts into him and starts to cry big full sobs as she clings to him.
“Where. Is. She?” I ask through gritted teeth. I’m getting real sick of asking the same goddamn question.
Jeanette points to one of the abandoned cars, and I run over.
I get to the car and jerk the entire door off the hinges in my panic to get to her. I throw the door to the ground and see Layla is huddled on the floorboard. “Cherry!” I call out and reach for her. She looks me in the eyes but doesn’t move towards me. “Cherry, baby?” I ask and reach again. I look her over and see she’s in the same kind of torn sheet Jeanette is dressed in, and I wonder what the fuck happened.
She looks at me doubtfully but finally sits up and holds her hands out. I grab them quickly and pull her from the car. I wrap her body in my arms, and I feel her shaking. She doesn’t cry or speak, she just shakes all over.
I run back to Saint and Jeanette, scanning the area the whole time to see if anyone is still here. “Get her up. We’ve got to get out of here. I don’t know who’s left or how much time we have before the cops show up.”
Saint gets off the ground with Jeanette, and we head to the car. I put Layla beside me in the front seat, and Saint and his woman get in the back. It’s a silent ride back to the safehouse and I feel Cherry continue to shake during the journey. I take it as a good sign that she still has her arms wrapped around my waist and her head on my chest. I kiss her head and tell her it’s going to be okay, repeating those words the entire way back.
Once we get to the safehouse I put us on lockdown – nobody in and nobody out. I’ve got alarms on top of alarms as well as bulletproof doors and windows. Unless someone drives a tank over this building, it’s Fort Knox secure.
I carry Cherry upstairs, and we head in one direction while Saint takes Jeanette to his room. I know that whatever she went through she’s in good hands with him, but my focus is on my girl.
I walk to the bathroom and carry Layla directly into the shower without bothering to undress either of us. I turn my back to the showerhead and flip it on so the cold spray hits me until it warms up. Once it’s warm enough for her I turn so the water hits her shaking body. I reach around and turn on all the other showerheads so that the enclosed space is filled with hot steam. I can feel her body start to relax as she warms up. I don’t know how long I stand there holding her, both of us in drenched clothes. If I had to hold her for eternity to make her better I would.
After a little while longer, she lifts her head and leans back into the water. I sit her on the high seat I had built into the shower. I stand between her legs and pull my shirt off and then peel off my sopping wet jeans and boots. I’m naked when I move back between her legs and go to take the ripped-up sheet off of her body. She puts her hands up as if to stop me, and I halt my movements. She looks me in the eyes like she has a question. “Layla?” I ask and then it’s as if she makes her decision. She moves her hands and nods as if to tell me to go on undressing her.