Catching Teardrops (MAC Security 5)

“None of your goddamn business,” I growl back at him, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

I’m ready to end the call as I push my foot down more, watching the speedometer climb, but when he starts to give me a rundown of everyone inside, I keep my attention focused on him as much as the empty roads.

“Tonight’s objective is to be seen there, nothing more than that. Just sit at the bar, have a couple drinks, get them used to seeing your face.”

“Got it.” I click my thumb on the button on the steering wheel to finish the call, relishing in the rock music coming through the speakers.

Leaning back in my seat, I let the music pour through me, pushing everything—everybody—to the back of my mind.

After what should have been a two-hour journey but only took ninety minutes, I pull up outside the bar, slipping out of the car and keeping my shoulders back and my face forward.

There’s nothing worse than going undercover and trying to be incognito. There’s no way I could ever not be seen, so I make sure people see me. See the deadness in my eyes that’s always there, see the anger churning just under the surface waiting for one little thing to set it off. All I need is an excuse; an excuse I never seem to get.

Shaking the thoughts from my head as I open up the door to the bar, the corner of my mouth quirks up at the sound of Nine Inch Nails coming through the speakers, the chairs all packed with what look like bikers, but when you actually look closer, you can tell the true bikers and the wannabes.

“Whiskey neat,” I growl at the bartender, standing toward the corner, not letting my back be exposed to anyone. I feel several sets of eyes on me, and all I want to do is look at each and every one of them, warn them to stay away, but instead I keep my gaze roving, not stopping on any one thing long enough to warrant suspicion.

“Not seen you here before,” the barman says, his face eager to learn who I am, but with one look, I silence him. Fucker should know better than to try and start a conversation with someone he doesn’t know.

I down the whiskey in one gulp turning the glass over on the light wood, dirty bar. “Another.”

He does as he’s told, this time silently, and I can’t help but smirk. It didn’t even take any words to warn him.

I stand here for over an hour, listening in on people’s conversations and watching as people come inside the bar, order a drink and down it, before heading into the back. I know for sure that’s where everything is happening, so I start to people watch, figuring out who the head of this place is, and when I see one guy sitting on the edge of another four, I know right away it’s him.

He’s trying to make himself look unimportant, but the way people don’t make eye contact with him, the way the other four seem to steer people around them with a look or a couple of spoken words, tells me it’s him. He’s who I need to get in with.

A plan starts to formulate, and when I slam down the empty whiskey glass on the bar and walk out of there, I know exactly what I’m going to do.

LILY

I place the note on the kitchen counter, letting Luke know I’m going out before I walk out the door. I was still awake at three this morning when he came home, and when I woke up this morning, he was gone again. I’m not sure if he’s coming back today, and even though I want to ask him what’s going on—why he’s coming and going—I don’t. I keep my mouth closed and my feelings locked inside.

Yawning, I start the walk into the small town. The lack of sleep is starting to catch up to me, and even though I logically know last night was because of Luke showing me the safe place at the back of the house, it didn’t stop my mind from embellishing things.

So instead of sitting there trying to fall asleep, I did a little research on my cell.

I’m a seventeen-year-old girl without a high school diploma, and if I want to get into at least a community college and make a life for myself, I need to get my GED.

Not being able to find much apart from having to speak to the local library, I decided that’s what today’s task is. I need to make plans for the future, not worry about the past. Push it all aside and concentrate on what is to come instead of wallowing in what happened.

It’s all good and well in practice, but whenever my brain stops pushing it to the back and my eyes close, it all comes rushing forward. Every touch, every lash of pain, every bruise, every drop of bright-red blood.

There’s nothing to stop him appearing in my nightmares. No Luke. No fight from me. Nothing.

He can do what he wants there, and however much I will myself to wake up, I never do. I have to endure it all over and over again, only each time is a little different and I never get away.

Time and time again I’ve wanted to tell Luke, but I don’t want him to know the weak side of me, the side he’ll think is broken. I’m not, I’m still whole. I may have a few fractures here and there, but nothing that can’t be fixed, right?

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I come to a stop, looking around and realizing I don’t know where I am. I’ve walked and walked, not aware of my surroundings. I curse myself for not listening to what Luke told me yesterday. I need to be more aware, know what’s going on around me.

Scanning the main street, I take stock of all the people milling around, the shops, and the signs, making sure no one is paying attention to me.

When I’m satisfied they’re not, I bring up the map app on my cell, typing in the library and starting the six-minute walk there. Only this time I’m aware of everything and everyone.

I walk up the thirty or so steps when I arrive, pushing open the heavy wooden door and taking a deep breath when the smell of books hits me. I could sit inside this place all day, and that’s when I realize I can do that. I can come here all I want, run my hands along the spines of the books and not have to worry about being home for a certain time.

I’m