Caged series, p.50
Caged Series, page 50
“That you know about!” I protested. “There's probably some secret lever that makes the shoe display turn one hundred and eighty degrees, uncovering an arsenal of weapons that would make even the Michigan Militia envious.”
He opened his mouth to respond then snapped it shut. He fought a smile for a moment before letting it spread wide across his face.
“You're probably right. She is a bit paranoid,” he said, walking back to his room. “Guess it's time to find a new dealer or invest in some Kevlar; I'd suggest underwear so your ass is protected. It is one of your best features.”
“I'm so glad you live here,” I said sarcastically. “I so need help alienating those around me. And stop looking at my ass!”
“Request denied,” he called over his shoulder. “Love you too, Rubes.”
* * *
I needed to get away from people for a bit, so I stopped by the shop while Peyta was opening up and informed her that she was on her own for an undetermined amount of time. She nattered on while I walked out the door about minions, overtime, and some crazy talk about benefits. She always put a smile on my face when she wasn't trying to—especially when she wasn't trying to.
I'd put on my workout gear and grabbed my iPod before I left the house. Physical activity was the best way for me to work off the stress my impending doom was causing me, so I decided to run along the ocean to the outskirts of town. There was something about ocean air that calmed the mind, eased the soul, and warmed the heart. Unfortunately, it did nothing positive for my hair.
I was a good five miles out, enjoying the spring weather as I headed towards the wooded area outside of town, when a horrible charlie horse stopped me dead in my tracks. I fell to the ground when my right calf seized up and frantically tried to pull my toes back towards my leg to free it up. After a good minute or two of stretching and swearing, I tentatively propped myself up against a tree and slowly put some weight back on my leg. I could stand, but it was extremely painful. There was a shaded area a little ways away, and I headed for the trees, hoping to escape the sun while I worked on my leg some more. Running home was not going to be an option if I couldn't. Based on how difficult it was to hobble over there, it didn't look overly promising.
In all my limping grace, I caught my foot on a tree stump and lurched forward, nearly slamming my head into the trunk of an enormous maple. I managed to grab it with both arms in an awkward hug to prevent yet another injury that day. In retrospect, a concussion would have been a better option.
As soon as I touched the tree, I had a flash of déjà vu surge through me. I saw him peering through the trees, sniffing the air with satisfaction. He had leaned on that tree the first night he attacked the girl in the alley—the first night he made contact with me. The first night he passed on his message: revenge. He left a smudge of his intention on that tree, and I felt it course through me while I held it.
I snatched my hand away and shook it until the feeling left, leaving no trace of connection behind. Then I ran back into town as quickly as I could, leg throbbing and threatening to cramp again along the way. I didn't care; I wanted to be as far away from that place as possible.
I ran until my lungs burned so fiercely that I was forced to stop or pass out. My body succumbed to the physiological ultimatum. Bent over at the waist, I rested my hands on my knees as I made every effort possible to fill my chest with air. Once I was relatively oxygenated, I looked up to see that I was standing outside of Better With Age, Ronnie's vintage clothing store. I audibly groaned wanting to run again, but I knew I didn't have it in me. I figured the universe was yet again trying to tell me something, or that it had an evil sense of humor and enjoyed seeing me suffer.
Unable to relinquish my Glutton-For-Punishment title, I opened the door slowly and popped my head in. I wanted to be able to make a clean get away if she pulled out her firearm and let the lead fly. Not seeing her in the front of the shop, I carefully slipped in and started poking around. The boutique was a direct reflection of Ronnie, hippie-urban chic, eclectic and fabulous. However, I found it hard to focus on the décor when all I wanted to do was check under the counter for the Glock that normally resided there. For a hippie, she was pretty hard core.
As I stared that direction, the feisty brunette popped out from the stockroom. She was less than happy to see me standing there when she did. Her eyes betrayed her, darting under the counter for a brief moment.
“I don't think that'll be necessary,” I said, trying to make light of her concealed weapon.
“Not really interested in your thoughts regarding that,” she replied, cracking the knuckles of her right hand—her trigger finger.
“We need to talk,” I sighed, already seeing the futility in the situation.
“We are. What do you want?”
“I want you and me to come to an understanding about things,” I explained. “And I want a chance to defend myself. I think you owe me that much.”
“You think I owe you?” she said as she walked towards me. “I think you should be thanking me for letting you live.”
“Thanks,” I said venomously. “Feel better now? Validated?”
“You just don't get it, do you?” she scoffed. “I know all about you and Cooper, and all the rest of your kind for that matter. You should fear me as much as you think I should fear you.”
“Oh, I fear you all right, because you're a loose cannon who doesn't know shit, but thinks she does. You know just enough to be dangerous, but not enough to be right,” I snarled, blood rushing to my face. “And if you know what I am, then you would know that I'm not easy to kill, and you should fear me.”
“You don't know everything I know,” she said with a cocky smile. “You'd be surprised at what I've learned.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?” she mocked, coming nearer still. Ronnie wouldn't shrink away from any fight, and ours was no different. “Gee, I wonder how you would use that against me? Endanger my life...maybe theirs too?”
“Whose?” I asked completely baffled. “Whose lives am I endangering now?”
“You can call them the Underground. That's all you need to know.”
“Wow, they sound super important. Is there a secret handshake and everything?” I asked, taking my turn to mock her.
“They're my family,” she said through gritted teeth. “We protect each other from things like you.”
The word “family” rang through my mind.
“That's who you stayed with when you left, isn't it?” I asked with an uncertain tone.
“Maybe.”
“That's how you knew about Cooper and I? The picture you had...”
“Yes.”
“But how? Why?”
“We have eyes everywhere, Ruby. We have to,” she explained uncomfortably as she went to the entrance and flipped the sign to closed. “I've known about your kind for fifteen years or more. Many of us have known longer than that. We stick together to keep safe.”
I'd only known about the wereworld for over a year, and it had totally turned my life on its side. I couldn't imagine having that knowledge for as long as she had—and trying to protect a child on top of it.
“Your friend, the one you went out to see, was she...?”
“Attacked? Yes,” Ronnie stated, seeing where I was going. “We stayed with her to see if her change was imminent. We ultimately had to take care of her.”
“So she's okay now?”
“No, Ruby. She's dead. What did you think 'take care of her’ meant?”
My heart sank into my chest at the implication.
“You killed her? Why?” I asked, completely disbelieving what I was hearing. “Because she was a were? Would you kill Cooper just for breathing? Me?”
“Not because she was a werewolf. She was bitten by a rogue wolf. It changes things.”
I didn't know much about rogues other than the fact that they were on the PC shitlist. I wanted to know more, but decided that prying at the time was a bad idea.
“So why do you hate me all of a sudden? Have I done something that changes who I am in your eyes, or is this all about Peyta?”
“I don't have to explain my feelings to you. My daughter almost died in your care. Werewolf or not, I don't trust you and don't want you around her.”
“Ah, and there's the line in the sand,” I purred. “You don't want her around me, and I do...never mind what Peyta wants. Like it or not, Ronnie, Peyta is part of our fucked up little world. If I thought that she would stay away, I would encourage her to, but she's so damned headstrong—just like her mother—that she wouldn't listen anyway.”
Ronnie flashed furious eyes my way. She knew I had a point, but had no intention of admitting it.
“She needs friends, Ronnie—family too. And not just you,” I said, softening my tone. “If you don't let her be who she is, you're going to drive her away.”
“Don't you dare presume to tell me how I should parent my child. We did just fine before you cropped up, and we'll do just fine without you. I've single-handedly kept that girl alive and safe for almost two decades, while you nearly got her killed in two weeks,” she growled. “I'll continue to do whatever it takes to ensure that she stays alive at any cost, Ruby. You need to hear me on that point...loud and clear.”
“Fine, do it your way, but don't be disappointed if the results aren't what you bargained for,” I said, walking towards the exit. I stayed in line with the mirror on the opposite wall in order to keep an eye on Ronnie as I left. I wasn't convinced that she wouldn't start shooting, and I hadn't gotten those Kevlar undies just yet. “Do me one favor, Ronnie. Keep Peyta away from town at night. It's not safe.”
“I read the paper. I'm well aware of what's going on.”
“No, Ronnie, I don't think you are. This guy wants something and I've seen him in action. You have no clue, and trust me...you don't want one,” I said, opening the entrance door. “Just keep her in, okay?”
“What do you mean you've seen him?” she asked, her eyes squinting hard with scrutiny.
“It's a long story,” I sighed. “But you can relax, I wasn't there by choice, if that's what you were thinking.”
“It was,” she quipped.
“Fantastic. Glad we could get all this cleared up then. Oh, and Ronnie? Sorry about Cooper slamming the door in your face this morning,” I said as I pounded the door closed behind me. “Really sorry.”
3
The jingle of the bells on the door alerted Peyta to my incoming.
“Your mother hates me,” I lamented as I crossed the floor towards the counter.
“Hate might be a touch too strong,” she said, searching the air around her for a better description. “She's angry, Ruby. And she's a terrible grudge holder. It'll be a long time before she moves on.”
“Yeah, like a decade or two,” I muttered under my breath.
“Probably,” Peyta concurred.
“Comforting.”
“Not really, but true nonetheless,” she sighed. “I'll do what I can, Ruby, but things aren't exactly peachy between her and I at the moment either.”
I looked up at her to inquire as to why, but upon seeing her expression decided to leave my foot out of my mouth for once and let it be. Personal growth occurred at the most unexpected times.
“Anyway,” she continued, “let's talk about how you're going to teach me how to make the cool jewelry that you do. When do I get to start that?”
“I don't know, let me go look at the back room and see how the filing is shaping up.”
The twinkle in her eye let me know that I was going to be a happy camper when I pushed the adjoining door open.
I flipped the light on to see an immaculate space. Not only was my desk so clean and organized that Martha Stewart would've shed a tear of pride, but also the work area was no longer a safe house for random tools, tidbits, and scraps of whatnot. It looked like a legit crafting area with labeled boxes on shelves, hooks to hang tools, and see-through containers with materials in them so I could actually find what I was looking for.
She came up beside me and wove her arm through mine while my hands rested on my hips and looked up.
“So when do we start?”
“Did you eat yet?” I asked, knowing I was in for a long afternoon.
“No,” she said, the smile disappearing from her face.
“Well, you'd better go get some food. I don't plan on taking a snack break once I start.”
She bolted through the door so fast that I didn't even have time to put in my order. I was hoping she'd pick something up for me too; I was starving. I needed to go shower, but she'd worked so hard all day that I couldn't stomach making her wait any longer than necessary to get started.
I poked around the back room, admiring her work before returning to the front. Hiring her was seriously one of the best moves I could have ever made. I wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that, regardless of what her mother wanted. Cooper was right; Ronnie could do her own dirty work.
Peyta and I spent a slow afternoon at the front counter going over the different tools, materials, and techniques I thought necessary to get her started with some basic work. She soaked it up like a sponge as the hours flew by. At closing time, she actually pouted when I told her to go home. I walked her to her mom's car and made sure she got off safely. It was still light out, but after the reminder I'd had earlier that morning, I wasn't taking any chances with her. Peyta's life had been in jeopardy because of me once. I wouldn't let it be ever again.
* * *
I drove down to Boston that night for a company rehearsal. We were planning a new event featuring local dance groups and needed to work out some details as well as new choreography. I was looking forward to it immensely.
I hadn't been able to go for the two weeks prior because of the damage I'd incurred during Peyta's kidnapping by the ghost of the Alpha wolf from the Utah pack that had taken me hostage months earlier. He'd nearly gutted me alive, and since Sean had me on a strict “no Scarlet” policy, the wound took a while to recover from. Dancing seemed like a bad idea at that time, though it took a lot of convincing from Cooper not to go.
Dance had always been the one thing that made me feel alive, free, and normal. I started when I was young and blind, after months of harassing my parents until they caved. Upon gaining sight, it took on a whole new form, but was still the only normal thing in my life as everything around me, including myself, started coming up supernatural.
Matty was my partner in the company and was steadily becoming a great friend. He was young, talented, and decidedly human. He was also pretty easy on the eyes, which made it even more enjoyable to be around him. I hadn't seen him for those weeks that I didn't attend class, and it was all I could do to keep him from coming up to check on me. I was really excited to see him that night and knew he'd be thrilled to see me, especially since I didn't tell him I was coming.
When I pulled up to the old warehouse building, there wasn’t a spot to be found nearby. I was forced to loop around the block and park down a side street, which made me mildly uneasy. Locking the car behind me, I quickly made my way around the corner and down the road to the studio. The neighborhood wasn't bad per se, but it wasn't exactly the kind of place you lingered in any longer than necessary. I'd had a bad experience the last time I was there with some locals that were hanging around out front. I wanted to avoid any repeats of that like the plague.
I peeked into the studio when I arrived; Matty wasn't there yet. I sat in the far back corner of the room so I wouldn't be easily seen when he entered. After five minutes of stretching and occasional chit chat with some of the others in the group, in strode the boyishly handsome Matty. He had a little extra swagger in his step, and I couldn't help but wonder what put it there.
“What's with the pimp strut, G-Money?” I hollered at him over the commotion in the room.
“Ruby!” he yelled, jogging over to me. I stood up to greet him, and he scooped me up, spinning me around until I was dizzy.
“Okay, okay...enough,” I begged, thinking vomit was imminent. “How are you, big guy?
“I'm good,” he replied with a charming smile on his face. “Better now, though. Where have you been? And no lame excuses—I want to know what was really going on.”
“I had to have abdominal surgery,” I said, lifting up my t-shirt to show him the silvery-white scar extending from my sternum to well below the waist of my shorts. “I didn't want anyone to worry and I wasn't up for visitors.”
“Jesus, Ruby, that looks serious!” he said, reaching his hand up to touch the smooth line. He pulled up short, dropping his hand awkwardly to his side before offering an uncomfortable smile. “Sorry. It just really surprised me to see that. It's huge. What did they have to take out that needed a hole that big?”
I dropped my shirt and my eyes down. I didn't know how to answer that question and hadn't bothered to prepare a credible lie. I hoped avoidance would work.
“Wow, I'm sorry, Ruby. I'm really sucking at this. It's none of my business. I'm just glad you're okay,” he said softly, trying to salvage the conversation. “On a lighter note, my strut you inquired about is a direct result of today being my birthday.”
“Nice! So you can legally go to the bars now? We don't have to sneak you in anymore?” I joked, giving him a little jab in the arm.
“Look everybody,” he said, pointing at me, “it thinks it's funny.” He turned a wide smile back to me, and I couldn't help but smile in return. “And I'm twenty-two, thank you very much. Aren't you coming up on thirty soon, old woman?”
“Ugh, yes, soon enough. Thanks for the reminder, Junior,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Does that mean that drinks are in order tonight?”
He furrowed his eyebrows slightly. “I can't go for long tonight...my parents are making dinner at their house. Rain check? We could do a proper outing later this week.”
