My father.
My mother.
Evan.
Where Ellis could possibly be.
My mind.
My sanity.
My lips part, ready to feed him a lie, but the truth slips out, the thing that scares me the most.
“I’m afraid of never getting out of this life unless it’s in a coffin.”
Chapter 10
Drowning in Emotion
Ryler
“I’m afraid of never getting out of this life, unless it’s in a coffin,” Emery whispers, her eyes glassy as tears spill down her cheeks.
She’s terrified out of her damn mind, even more so than she normally is. Afraid. Of her father. Of Evan. Of me. The list probably goes on and on. I fucking hate that I’m on that list. If I could, I’d take her in my arms and tell her the truth.
After about thirty seconds of panicking, Emery rushes off to her room and slams the door. I contemplate knocking, then decide to give her space and head for the living room to wait it out. I clean up some candy wrappers and empty soda cans from off the table, then flop down on the sofa.
My phone buzzes the moment my ass sinks into the cushion. Sighing, I fish out my “personal” phone, loathing answering it just as much as my “business” one.
Doc: I need u to do me another favor tonight. It’s extremely important.
Me: I thought I was supposed to watch Emery tonight?
Doc: Take her with you so you can keep an eye on her. I don’t want her being alone anymore for a while. Plus, she can translate for you.
Me: Okay.
Doc: Go to the west side of the city near Desingfield Blvd. Do you know where that is?
Me: I do. You want me to leave right now?
Doc: No, this is going to be an early morning call. Be there by four. I won’t be at the place, but Moleney knows you’re coming. It’s his house. He’ll give you the package.
My lip twitches. Evan Moleney. Emery’s ex-boyfriend who’s the biggest douche I’ve ever met. I hate that he’s the one who picks her up from school. That he’s the one who gets to touch her and kiss her like I did during those brief moments when Emery and I didn’t know who the other was.
Me: What am I supposed to do with it when I get the package? Drop it off at the bar?
Doc: No. Hang on to it for me. I’ll be there tomorrow to pick it up.
Me: Okay, I’ll get Emery and head out in a little bit.
Doc: Take your gun with you.
My muscles wind tight as my gut instincts scream not to go. Beg me to walk away from this. Maybe it’s time. I’ll just take Emery and run. Would she come with me if I did?
Instead, I text back.
Me: Okay.
I shove the phone into the pocket of my faded black jeans. I hate guns. Hate that Doc gave me one of my own. Hated seeing Emery with one in her hand.
I drag my ass off the sofa and walk down the hallway toward Emery’s room. On my way, I pass this wall piece; a wooden circle with angled shapes and circular patterns. The damn thing gives me the creeps and not just because I’ve seen the symbol on a lot of Elderman’s men. There’s something about it, something I can’t quite put my finger on, that makes me want to light the thing on fire and watch it burn.
I’m not sure what the meaning of the symbol is, but I know it’s Donny’s brand. A few guys have tried to convince me to tattoo the symbol on my body. I have to be cautious to never agree, yet never outright refuse, otherwise, I’ll come off as suspicious.
I tap my knuckles on her bedroom door. When I hear a muffled cry from the other side, I squeeze my eyes shut. I haven’t known Emery for that long, but during the brief time we’ve spend together, I’ve developed strong feelings for her. Whenever she’s sad, scared, or in pain, it nearly breaks my fucking heart.
Wrapping my fingers around the doorknob, I push the door open. The lights are off, but a trail of moonlight flows through the window and onto the bed. Emery is curled in a ball, facing the wall, with her arms wrapped around herself.
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she murmurs. “Just please leave me alone.” Her shoulders begin to shake as she soundlessly cries.
I yank my fingers through my hair, trying not to lose control over who I’m supposed to be at the moment. Ryler who works for Doc—Ryler who cares about his job more than anything else. Still, it’s hard to remain in control when I’m witnessing the most beautiful girl with the saddest eyes fall apart right in front of me.
Without too much forethought, I slide onto the bed with her. The mattress concaves beneath my weight as I scoot closer. Her breath hitches in her throat, and her body goes as rigid as a board the second my chest brushes her back.
I hesitate before reaching toward her back and tracing on the fabric of her shirt, Not going to hurt you. I place my hand on her arm.
She flinches from my touch, but doesn’t pull away. Her skin is incredibly warm… God, I’ve forgotten how warm and inviting she is.
Sucking in an uneven breath, I give her shoulder a soft tug. When she rotates toward me, I sit up and sign, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t tell you,” she replies, her face hidden in the shadows.
“Why not?”
A second or two trickles by before she moves out of the shadows and into the moonlight. I can see her perfect, full lips I’ve tasted a few times. Her pale skin is like porcelain, and her big eyes reflect her raw, inner pain.
“You know why I can’t.” She rotates all the way onto her back and props up on her elbows, putting our lips only inches apart and forcing me into a position to either move back or kiss her.
Even though it’s agonizing, I don’t choose the latter.
“I don’t know why, Emery. I really don’t,” I sign.
Stale’s text flashes through my mind. I tell myself that what I do next is because of what he said, but deep down I know the truth—that the only reason I’m here with Emery is because I want to be.
I graze my finger across her cheek, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. My heart erratically pounds. “But you can always tell me. I know things have been rocky between us since your father assigned me as your bodyguard, but I’m still the same guy I was before. Nothing’s really changed. I’m still a good listener, and still enjoy spending time with you.”
“Still the same? No, I don’t think so. I wish nothing had changed, but you’re part
of my father’s world, Ryler, despite how much I try to convince myself that isn’t true. You telling him we went out… That was a big reminder.” She searches my eyes as if the truth of who I am is in there. Part of me wants her to see it, wants her to see who I really am. “No, everything’s different.” She raises her arm to scratch her forehead, and I spot circular marks on her skin.