Darkness of Light (21 page)

McNamm was seething. Two against one and I was the prize. I looked over my shoulder at the door. As soon as I thought about escape, I felt West’s hand tighten around my wrist. The gaze from his light brown eyes burrowed deep into mine. Something about him made me no longer feel like fleeing. His hand slid over my shoulder and slipped in between the collar of my jacket to grab my neck. I knew he was doing it to show ownership of his property—me—for Pock’s and McNamm’s sake, showing they needed to back off. I still hated it. I was not someone who liked being treated as property or being told what to do in any way. 

Anger sprouted within me as I pulled away. His fingers lost their grip as they skidded across my neck, grazing my tattoo, which sent a vibration through the ink. West’s hand jerked back like he’d been stung, his eyes widening as he looked at me and down at his hand. He quickly controlled his reaction, his face returning back to neutral, and turned back to McNamm. We weren’t given the opportunity to dwell on what just happened as McNamm stepped forward, and poked West’s chest. “So dumbass, what’s it gonna be? We wanna chance to play with her, or do we just be takin’ her from you?” 

West’s huge frame moved quicker than I thought possible. He punched McNamm in the face, sending him flying until he smashed into the pool table. Pock pulled out a knife and jumped on West, knocking me down to the ground with them. My head smacked hard on the solid floor. 

In the distance, the bartender screamed for the fight to stop, but it was past that. West and Pock rolled on the floor, grunting as they punched and shoved each other. Blood flew out their noses. A gnarled roar tore from West’s lips as Pock’s knife buried into West’s gut, blood squirting out of the wound. It didn’t seem to stop him, only distracted him for a moment before he pounced on Pock again. 

I knew this was my best chance for escape, and now I wanted nothing more than to get out of there. I dizzily picked myself up and wobbled towards the door, running into every chair and table on the way. I was halfway to the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder, throwing me once more to the floor. 

“Where’d you think you’re goin’?” McNamm sneered. The smell of whiskey and beer was on his breath as he climbed on top of me. He grabbed my wrists with one hand, keeping me from hitting or slapping him.

Terror grew like weeds, wrapping around my lungs. “Get off me!” 

“Shhh . . . you’ll have a good time with me. If not, I know I sure will. I’m bettin’ you’re pure as the driven snow. This is gonna be a treat.” 

Fear engulfed me as I struggled against him. My panic was rising so high I almost didn’t notice the deep tug of power inside me. Lights in the bar flickered. The light bulb above my head sputtered and splintered. Shards of glass flew down on McNamm. “What the hell?” He twisted looking up, grinding himself against me harder. A guttural cry escaped me. My hands flailed wildly, slapping at his face. 

“Oh, you like it rough?” He sneered as my nails made contact with his face. “You lil’ bitch.” A burst of pain swept across my face as he hit me. Black dots spun across in my vision. My swollen cheek pounded with sharp pain. He moved for my pants, pulling down the zipper. I stiffened.

A light popped across the room, reminding me what I was capable of. I forced all my emotion out of my body. The rest of the lights, the bottles, and the TV exploded, sending glass flying across the bar. I heard screams and chairs being moved as people dove under the tables. It rained glass, but the sparks were directed straight at McNamm, making him dive off me to find shelter. 

Out of nowhere, West came flying down on McNamm, both of them crashing into the wall, sending cue sticks scattering all over the floor. I scrambled to get one, but Pock jumped on my back, slamming my face into the dirty floor as he pushed all his weight down on top of me. Tiny bits of broken glass cut into my cheek, spilling the warmth of oozing blood.

“I get my turn, too.” He leaned down. “Hmmm . . . you smell good.” His scratchy voice prickled at my ear, making my heart pound with dread. He moved and twisted so he could pin me down better. 

A cue stick lay several feet away from me. 

Occupied with getting under my layers of clothes, Pock’s hand shoved into my jeans, rubbing my lower back before he shoved his fingers down farther. Through my jeans, I could feel his excitement poking into me. My chest heaved and chilled as cold fear dripped into every vein of my body. 

I wiggled and stretched my arm as far as I could, but the cue stick was far beyond my reach. I let out a guttural cry as Pock’s hand wormed around inside my pants. I focused all my energy on reaching the stick, concentrating on moving the object towards me. I had to get it. It was my only shot at getting away from him. 

My mind locked on the object. I imagined it moving to me. A strong energy filled my body, making my arms tingle with energy. The cue stick rocked back and forth. I tuned out everything around me. The only thing that mattered was having the cue stick in my possession. Suddenly, the smooth wood slid across the floor, landing in my hand. I blinked in shock, but my astonishment would have to wait. 

I gripped the end of the stick and flung it back with all the power I could, smacking Pock straight in the face.

“AHHHH!” He grabbed his face and rolled off me. I scrambled up and re-gripped the cue stick like a bat as I turned around to face him. “You fuckin’ little bitch! I think you broke my nose!”

“And I’ll fucking do it again. Don’t you ever think about touching me again.” My blood boiled in my ears, my terror turning into sheer fury. All the anger and hurt I had felt that day tore through me. My hands vibrated with energy as I gripped the cue stick.

He lunged for me and I reacted by swinging the stick with all my pent-up energy, cracking it across his head. The stick broke as it ricocheted off his head and half of it flew across the room. His body went limp and fell back on the floor, unconscious. Blood spilled from his nose and the cut across his head.

“EVERYONE FREEZE,” a voice boomed from the doorway. Several cops with guns pointed at us inched into the bar. “You’re all under arrest!”

At first, I felt relief from their presence, but then a hard lump fell into my stomach. Sheriff Weiss stood at the door with a gun pointed at me, his eyes glinting.

Shit!

Weiss looked pleased as punch as he looked around. It looked like a bomb had gone off in the bar. Glass and debris covered the floor, tables were broken and over turned, and the TV lay broken on its side halfway across the room from where it originally sat. 

The best part for him was me. In my hands, gripped tightly, was a broken, jagged, bloody cue stick. The other half lay a few yards away from the bloody, beaten, unconscious man, who I was standing over.

Weiss signaled for two of the officers to go after McNamm and West, while he and another younger cop headed towards me. “Why, Ms. Brycin, funny you being in the middle of this,” he said smugly. “Not that I’m at all surprised.” 

I looked around confused, my body and mind still in shock. 

“Miss, put the stick down,” the other cop commanded. 

I looked at him, my eyes wild and unclear. Couldn’t they see I didn’t belong here? That I was a victim just trying to protect myself? 

“Please, put the stick down now, ma’am.” The young officer’s voice grew tight and demanding. 

I let the stick drop from my hands. The sound echoed through the room as it bounced. Everything after was a blur of fear, adrenaline, alcohol, and shock. The only thing I remembered was the young cop coming up to me, wiping the cuts on my face as the blood on my cheek dripped onto the floor.

Weiss moved in behind me. “You’re under arrest, Ms. Brycin,” he said as he slid handcuffs around my wrists. Numbness and shock kept me in a dreamlike state. I felt no pain. It wasn’t the first time I had been in handcuffs or been arrested, but those times usually came from my being attached to a tree, which was going to be bulldozed, or at a PETA rally, which got out of hand. This was completely different.

“Sir, don’t you think we should get her statement before arresting her? I mean this doesn’t look like her type of place. I don’t even think she’s old enough to be in here.” The young cop looked questioningly at his senior officer.

Weiss reminded me of those cops who were ten years past retiring. He was bitter, judgmental, narrow-minded, and cruel. “Lambert, you being a rookie and all, will soon learn that in this bar no one is innocent,” he said coldly, “least of all, this girl right here. You have the right to remain silent . . .” I tuned him out as he continued.

Twenty-two

“Don’t I get at least one phone call?” I called out from my cell. “Or an oxygen mask?” The six-by-eight-foot cement block smelled like urine and body odor.

“Hmmm-hmmm,” Officer Linne mumbled, not even bothering to look up from his magazine. I wasn’t sure if he had heard my question or if that was his automatic reply to everything. He seemed more interested in drinking his coffee and reading some cheesy gossip magazine than his actual job. I wondered if he was one of those cops who secretly watched soap operas and read trashy, bodice-ripping novels. 

About an hour later, he decided it was about time to get up and stretch, agreeing that while he was up, he would give me my rights as a citizen. “Okay, girlie, you get
one
phone call,” he said. He opened the jail door and motioned for me to sit down at the desk. “The bar’s not pressing charges, so you’re free to go. But because you were drinking, we will only release you if someone drives you home.”

Mark was in Japan for his conference. There was no way he was going to fly back just to bail me out of jail. He had done that plenty of times for my mother, when protests had gone awry. What were my choices? Kennedy didn’t have a car, nor would her parents let her at this time of morning. Ryan had a car. He could come get me.

Officer Linne plopped the phone down in front of me and returned to his gossip magazine. Picking up the receiver, my fingers shook as I punched in a number.

A groggy voice cracked over the line. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me. I’ve kind of been . . . well . . . arrested, and I was hoping you could maybe come and get me?”

A long pause as the information sank in.

“I’ll be right there.”

I hung up, smiling victoriously at the cop.

***

“Okay, Miss Brycin, you are free to go.” Officer Linne motioned for me to come forward as he opened the cell door. “But we will need you to fill out some paper work first.”

I started to follow the officer down the hallway when I heard Sheriff Weiss behind me. “Ms. Brycin, if you could just hold on one moment, I’d like to speak with you.” 

I closed my eyes and swore under my breath. Of course, he wouldn’t let me go so easily. That wasn’t his style. His personal vendetta would lap this incident up like cream. He was coming to claim his victory. 

He walked around to face me. “Just because that dump of a bar didn’t press charges, doesn’t mean you get off scot-free.”

I was tired of his games; but the more intently I looked at him, the more uncomfortable he got. My heeled boots gave me a few inches over him, and I used it to my advantage. His gaze darted away. 

“It looks like you broke the terms that would allow you back at the high school, Ms. Brycin, not that I thought with your track record you would go back. I knew you’d do something to screw it up. And wow, did you screw up—being underage in a bar, getting into a bar brawl, destroying property, attacking a man and almost putting him into a coma—those are serious crimes!”

Serious crimes, really? Crimes, yes, but serious? How about attempted rape or murder? Now that’s what you call serious.

He just wanted to scare me, but I still wanted to clarify that the men had attacked me, and I was only trying to defend myself. I mean come on, those guys had years and pounds on me, but they were the innocents here? I knew, however, I’d be wasting my breath. Weiss was dying to put anything on me, even if he had to twist facts and turn two seedy men from the Hells Angels into the victims to do it. What a sad state of affairs when I was considered more dangerous to society.

“Is that all Sheriff Weiss?” I said petulantly.

He stepped close, his voice low and threatening. “Listen to me. Every move you make . . .”

“. . . I’ll be watching you.” I couldn’t help myself as I completed his sentence, an old Police song. Quite appropriate actually. 

It really wasn’t a mystery why I always found myself in trouble.

Weiss’ face turned a deep shade of purple. “I’m going to make your life a living hell. Don’t think I won’t. You put one little toe out on the road before the crosswalk light turns green, and you’ll be back here in handcuffs before you can even blink.” 

The man really hated me. Was it only because he couldn’t prove the stuff he thought I did or was there something else about me causing him to feel such a deep-rooted hatred? I did know he would be true to his word and he’d be looking for anything to get me for, even if he had to lie and cheat to do it.

I wanted to make another smart-ass remark, but my community service was already tripled. I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on his, which seemed to disturb him enough. He finally stepped back and motioned to Officer Linne to resume his role. 

When Linne led me to the waiting area, my heart did a flip-flop. The bad taste in my mouth from my little tête-à-tête with Weiss vanished. 

There, leaning against the wall with his usual relaxed confidence, was Eli. His eyes danced in guarded amusement as he looked around the jail’s waiting room area. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he watched the guy next to him get handcuffed to a chair. Eli’s hair was messy and ruffled in this unbelievably hot way—straight out of bed—which, of course, made me think of his bed and him being in it. 

Ember, focus.

I breathed in deeply and tried to put on a face that didn’t show how much he made my stomach drop and my body tingle every time I saw him. Now that I had finally admitted to myself how I felt about him, I was afraid it was written all over my face. I bit my lip as I nervously ran a hand through my long, tangled hair. I wasn’t ready for brutal rejection this early in the morning.