Brutal (27 page)

“You on her side now?”

“I kinda am, yeah,” he says. “She’s a solid female; she would have made a hell of a detective, too. You bailed on her, man, and if she wanted Gallo, she could have had him. I don’t particularly like the prick, but he is looking out for her.”

“That’s
my
job!”

“Then fucking handle it!” he yells. “Didn’t you hear what he said to her? He was warning her off you, he knows something. You need to be on your game, man. Tony Gallo is a player, here, he protects her, right? The question is: why? Get answers, quit creating more fucking questions. She’s home, now let’s go, I’ll drop you.”

“No,” I say. “Don’t want her to see me like this.”

“Hold up, You hear that?” he asks. “Is she singing?”

“She sings when she can’t sleep,” I say, leaning toward my speaker.

“She, ah, has a killer voice.”

“I know.”

“What is she singing?”

“If you’d fucking shut it, I’d be able to hear her.”

I can hear her set her guitar down, and I look at my hands and realize I’m clutching my phone with both hands. The need to go to her is unbearable, but I’m smart enough to know I’m pretty drunk right now. I meant it when I said I didn’t want her to see me like this. This isn’t me.

She crawls into bed. I can tell when the mattress squeaks and she turns on the music in her room.

Rafe is looking at me like I’m an idiot for sitting here, and I am.

I shrug my shoulders and sit back on my couch, wishing I was there with her instead of here.

“I think it needs to be said, man, your girl is fucking miserable.”

“Yeah.” It’s true, you could hear it in her voice, just like I’m feeling it in my fucking chest.

“That song? It’s called
Broken
, she’s hurting without you, partner.”

“I get it.”

“Do you? Because I’d think, if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here staring at my handsome face, you’d be making shit right with her.”

“You an expert?”

“Fuck no, just saying what I would do.”

“Thank fuck I’m not you, then. Just shut the fuck up and watch TV.”

“Last thing I’m gonna say.”

“Then say it,” I grumble.

“Listening in on her like that without her knowin’? Not fucking cool, bro. Gonna bite you in the ass, my friend. Kharma is not like other females, you best remember that.”

“Worry about you.”

“Thing is, from what I gather, all the shit you stress over, she tells you about anyway. That’s a sign of a female you treasure, but I’m shutting up now.”

At some point, we both crashed out watching Army of Darkness. I was brought to my feet instantly when I heard her screams. Searching for my shoes and keys, I hear Rafe asking me questions, but there’s no time to answer.

“Rogan, man,” he says, panicked. “Is that Venessa?”

“Nightmare,” I say running for the door.

“Hold up,” he says. “I’ll drive you. I’m behind you, anyway.”

We make it there within two minutes, and Boss doesn’t even question me about running into the building at one am, with another large male, clearly heading toward Venessa’s loft. I’m grateful right now, but he and I will have a discussion about her safety later.

I fumble the key, but get it right on the third try. I run straight for her room, leaving Rafe at the door. I rush over to her and immediately see, this one’s bad. I crawl into bed and pull her into my arms, but she doesn’t even notice. I’m reminded how small and breakable she really is, when I can move her onto me with hardly any effort. She’s fighting like her life is at stake, and while I attempt to hold her still, her words get louder and louder. I can’t bring her back like last time, not with Rafe here. Part of me wonders if she needs to work through it, but the other part can’t bear to see her in pain.

“Come back to me,” I ask as I rub her arms.

 “Angel, I need you here with me,” I beg. “Come back.”

Desperate now, I don’t care if Rafe hears us. I need her back, and I need her back now. I take my left hand and hold her arms above her head and wrap them around my neck, exposing her breasts to me. I take my right hand and squeeze one nipple, then the other. She whimpers and mumbles, but at least she’s stopped thrashing.

I continue by tilting her head to the side, so I can suck on her neck while I squeeze her breasts. I beg her over and over to come back to me. She’s saying my name now, asking me to save her. To love her. I tell her that I’ll always do both. I tell her how much I missed her, how sorry I am, and how I need to see her eyes. I beg her to look at me.

She stills, but I don’t. I need to touch her, to comfort her as much as myself. She tightens her reverse grip around my neck, and attempts to turn to look at me. I didn’t know when the emotion took over, but it did. How can you watch your mate be tortured, and not be affected? What if I hadn’t been listening? What if…

“Rogan?”

“Angel.” 

I try keeping her facing away from me, but she isn’t having it. She squirms out of my hold to straddle me. I see the haze leave her eyes, and then she cocks her head to the side to study me. She doesn’t say anything, but wipes the tears from my face. She wraps her arms around my middle and lays her head over my heart. Well, her heart, actually. It belongs to her.

“You’re back,” I whisper.

“I’m back,” she whispers back.

“Missed you.”

“Missed you, too.”

“Thought I lost you,” I say, getting choked up again.

“As long as you want me, I’ll never be lost.”

“Angel.”

“Are you crying for me?”

“Yeah,” I say. “For you, for us.”

“Don’t cry for me, Rogan,” she says. “You came for me. I hoped you would.”

“I’ll always come for you.”

“I know, that’s why I come back” she says. “Stay?”

“Not leaving.”

“Be right back, don’t move.” She heads toward the bathroom, and seconds later she walks out with tissue for me, kisses me, then says she’s running to the kitchen to grab a water.

Rafe forgotten, I prepare the bed for both of us for when she gets back.

Then it hits me.

S
eeing Rogan cry was hard for me, I can admit it. My nightmares aren’t pretty, I know that much, but watching me can’t be easy either. I often thought about setting up a video camera to see what I look like, but then reconsidered. I know I’m a hot mess. I don’t need video proof. I don’t know what he sees, and I can’t be sure what I had said, but I imagine it would be tough for anyone to witness.

I hold shit in, I know that I do. Maybe I should keep a journal or something? I’ll think more on that later. He came for me! I had hoped. When I fell asleep without him, I had been miserable. I’m not prone to prayer, but I had prayed he’d come back to me, and he did. I swear, it’s some sort of bond we have that he can sense my moods, knows when I need him most, and how to take care of me. Maybe that type of bond is common? I really wouldn’t know about that, but it feels like it’s something rare and precious to me. My Mom told me she could sense when we were in pain as kids, so maybe this is like that?

Heading to the kitchen, I feel happy again. He’s here, I’m safe, it’s all good. Nightmares always leave me thirsty, probably because I’m a screamer. Not that I’m aware that I’m screaming, but my last neighbor clued me in and, needless to say, I’ve soundproofed my rooms since. I grab us each a water, giving him a moment to compose himself, when I see Rafe, staring at the floor, the ceiling, the wall…anywhere but at me. Oh… right, I’m naked.

“Well, this is awkward.”

“Little bit, yeah,” he says, looking away.

Running in with a blanket is Rogan. He reaches me and wraps me like a burrito. He picks me up, and sets me down on the couch, then pulls me into his big lap.

“Thanks,” I say, kissing his cheek.

“Woman,” says Rogan. “What is it with you and being naked?”

“I wasn’t expecting company,” I say. “ Hi, Rafe.”

“Uh, hey, Venessa.”

“I have nightmares,” I say.

“Yeah, I heard. Have them a lot?”

“I think so. Although, one is too many, in my opinion.”

“I used to have ‘em too. Fucked up childhood will do that to ya.”

“My family was murdered. My Dad in front of me, actually, but you guys probably knew that. I was raped and beaten before they shot my dad. But I killed them both a few years back. It felt good. Really fucking good.” Rogan’s hands stopped moving and Rafe looked sick.

“You both knew that, right?” I ask. “You knew, didn’t you?” And I could tell by the looks on their faces they didn’t know.

“Oh, fuck,” I say. “I, ah, I’m going to go—“

“Angel,” says Rogan. “It’s okay. We suspected, but we didn’t know for sure.”

“Don’t blame ya, Venessa,” says Rafe. “No judgment.”

“Just shocked to hear you put it all out there like that,” says Rogan.

“Not sure why I did,” I say. “Maybe I’m still asleep? Or I just trust you guys.”

“Won’t leave this room,” says Rafe.

“It’s solid,” I say. “I’m glad you know. That way there’s no secrets, yeah? Now you know why I am the way I am.”

“My old man use to abuse me. Mom didn’t do shit about it,” says Rafe.

“I was sold for drugs,” says Rogan.

“I hate country,” I say.

“I hate techno,” says Rafe.

“I hate people,” says Rogan, and when I take it all in I start laughing and snuggle into Rogan’s side.

“Since we’re up and shit, play something for us,” says Rafe.

“Huh?” I ask, looking up at Rogan, who looks panicked.

“He told me you could sing and play,” he says easily, “It’s cool if you don’t want to.”

“Uh, it’s okay,” I say. “Does it matter what I choose?”

“Nope,” says Rafe. “Not picky.”

“Let me go grab my guitar,” I say, walking to my guest room.

“And clothes!” demands Rogan.

Dressing quickly, I grab my guitar, eager to get back to the boys. This is exciting for me. I’ve got these two alpha males in my living room who want me to play for them, right after one rescued me from another nightmare. The other doesn’t seem fazed by my sleep issues, and that’s pretty amazing, too.

“Okay, since we cleared the air a bit, I’ll play a track from my favorite band,” I say.

“Sweet,” says Rafe.

“Do your thing,” says Rogan, smiling at me.

“My first live show,” I say, smiling. “Rad.”

I get situated on my couch by drawing my knees up and sitting criss cross, with my guitar setting in between. I clear my throat, preparing myself to take metal to a whole ‘nother level.

The thing about this song is that it’s in your face, honest and raw. So when I strum the chords, I attack the lyrics with everything I’ve got. I’m singing about being imperfect, I’m letting the world know that we’ll fight one battle at a time, but in the end we’ll win the war. Right away, I notice Rafe knows this song, looking over at Rogan, he doesn’t, but he’s listening.

Rafe joins in for the chorus, we both sing to the other, matching vocals and getting louder. He’s smiling, I’m smiling.

One part of this song gets me down deep every time I hear it, singing it takes it deeper for me. It makes me think of my life, my city, and my future. Refusing to ever be labeled anything, especially a victim, these lyrics get me. Looking at the boys, I want to make sure they get it, that they get me. My voice changes subtly, almost to a grate. When I push the lyrics out, they both clench their fists. Yeah, they fucking get it, get me.

‘Strapped with rage, got no patience for victims. Sick and tired of the whole fuckin' world.’

I’m a survivor, not a victim. Never that. With the chorus coming up, Rafe really goes hard. His face is red with aggression. He’s feeling it like I am. It’s beautiful. I’ve made a new friend tonight, and the joy I feel prompts me to take it to the next level. He’s a survivor, too, like Rogan and me. My fucked up family. The only one missing is Macy, but I have a feeling the four of us will be spending a lot of time together in the future.

We’re in each other’s faces now, singing, yelling, bonding, venting, purging. He needs this as much as I do, maybe even more. Rafe holds a lot in, so I’m glad he’s one of the good guys.

Together, Rafe and I chant
‘step to me, step to me motherfucker’,
but our smiles are gone, this is serious talk now.

I let Rafe finish the chorus, while I work the strings of my old guitar to the verge of breaking. I glance over at Rogan, who looks intense. He’s feeling it, too. He looks at me and smiles. I smile back.

We finish the last five words as a family. ‘
I’ll win the fucking war’
we all growl at the same time. Rafe with his fist in the air, me with my guitar held high, with Rogan red faced and ready to fight.

That was three minutes of my life I won’t ever forget.

“That was fun,” I say, giggling. “What’s next?”

“You have to be the coolest female I have ever met,” says Rafe.

“Naw, you haven’t met Macy yet—“ I pause, remembering. “Oh, wait, you have. Care to explain the cucumber and the cantaloupe?”

“That’s between Macy and me,” he says, blushing. “I, uh, it’s, you know, she’s different—“