Metaltown (31 page)

She wanted to tell Colin—tell
anybody
—what her father was doing, if only so she wouldn't be the only one carrying this enormous secret. But she didn't know how to start. The words stayed locked in her throat, a family issue to be handled by family. Even after he'd admitted to treason, it still felt wrong to expose him. Wrong, and dangerous. He'd struck her for mouthing off. What would he do if he knew she'd really betrayed him?

She didn't know what to do. Even with the entire charter downstairs and Colin right beside her, she felt alone.

Glancing over, she found him lost in his own thoughts, chin buried in the collar of his shirt. She longed to read his mind.

“What's a safety?” she asked. “I heard you say it before.”

He brought his arm back down to his side. It seemed to put more distance between them and she wished she hadn't brought it up.

“It's just this stupid Metaltown thing,” he said, heel beating a rhythm into the linoleum. “It keeps you protected from anyone who tries to mess with you. It means that if they do, they mess with me.”

Her mouth formed a small O. It didn't sound stupid. It sounded like more than her own family would have done for her. Still, she found herself thinking of Ty, the only other girl she'd known here, and she doubted he'd had to do the same for her.

“You don't think I can take care of myself.”

“It's not that,” he said, mulling over his words. “It just helps sometimes to have a friend here.”

A friend. Was that what they were? She didn't have any friends, not real ones anyway. No one she would invite to have lunch or tell about her day. The thought that Colin had a whole charter of friends who would raise their fists in his defense made her warm behind the neck.

“I'm not sure the others agree with your choice.”

He breathed out through his nostrils. “They're scared of you is all.”

“Scared of
me
?” She laughed. “That's the oddest thing I've ever heard.”

“Is it?” He shifted to face her. “Your family makes more money in a day than we'll make in a year. If one of us looked at you wrong, you could have us jailed, or fired, or…”

Guilt curved her spine. Regardless of what Ty had done, Lena knew that forcing her to leave had been harder on him than watching thirty other people march out the back door, and for that, she felt responsible.

She shoved the feeling aside. Firing the girl didn't equate to being shut out with the wolves.

“You wish she hadn't left.” It tightened Lena's throat to say.

“She messed up,” he said, shoulders flinching. “Even after what happened with her job. It just doesn't make sense. Street rules are the code she lives by. She's never done anything like that before.”

Lena frowned. She knew why Ty had done it. Because Lena had hurt Ty, and now Ty wanted to hurt her. Because she thought Lena was a
greenback
spy. Because Lena had gotten her fired from Small Parts.

Because she cared enough for Colin to protect him.

“Do you ever wish you were someone else?” She glanced over, worried that she had offended him. A girl who had been given everything didn't wish for such things.

“Most of the time,” he said, words hanging in the air as if to say
but not right now.
His gaze deepened, seeing too much, and because she feared that what he saw would only let him down, she looked away.

“Your mother and Cherish are probably worried.” She thought again of the frail woman, and wondered how long she'd had the corn flu. The prognosis for victims was grim. It had taken Lena's own mother before she'd been a year old.

He nodded. Then cleared his throat. “Your father's probably blown a gasket.”

She wasn't so sure; he'd not even acknowledged her taking a car in the middle of the night. Again she wondered if he was looking for her now. If he knew she was here. If he was disappointed. The prospect gave her a twisted kind of hope. If he didn't care about her, she couldn't disappoint him.

“Is he why you wear the gloves all the time?”

She scooted to the edge of her seat. “No. What makes you say that?” Her hair was messy, and she tried in vain to keep it smoothed behind her ears.

He took her hand, weaving her fingers between his before resting them on the couch between them. He did this without any obvious thought, even while her heart pounded madly. “I thought maybe they were special or something. When I was a kid, Hayden gave me this coat he outgrew, and I wore it until the sleeves hit my elbows and I split the back down the middle.”

His thumb trailed lightly over hers. She bit her lip, feeling her pulse quicken.

“You don't have to tell me,” he said after a moment.

“I've worn them since I was ten,” she said. “Not this pair, any pair.” Only a few people knew what had happened, and she'd never dared to speak of it since.

“My brother liked to play this game,” she continued, voice shallow. “Whenever I did something good, anything that got Father's attention really, Otto would lock me in the bureau in my bedroom. He was a lot bigger than me then.”

Colin stilled. He said nothing.

Stop talking,
she told herself, but the words kept tumbling out.

“One day my father left for a business trip and Otto locked me up and turned out all the lights in my bedroom, and then told Shima I'd gone to play by the river with the neighbors.”
If Father really loves you, he'll find you.
“Shima was my nanny then. I think she panicked, guessing I'd fallen in or something. She didn't find me upstairs until the next day.” That tightening in her chest was back, constricting her lungs. “I broke off some of my fingernails trying to get out.” Sticky, splintered stumps. Wet blood running down her hands, her wrists, dripping from her elbows. “It's not that bad, but they didn't grow back. The gloves just cover up the mess.”

She felt young again. Alone. Shima had left that day. Left her to Otto and her father. If Shima had really loved her, she never would have gone away. Lena didn't care if her father
had
fired her.

Colin had begun to squeeze her hand. “Damn.”

His pity made her wish she hadn't said so much.

“I know it may not seem like it, but Otto's normal most of the time.” They'd played together as children. Until he'd taken over the factory, they'd been tutored together as well. Most days they were perfectly respectful of each other.

“When he's sleeping?” asked Colin. “When he's eating? I hate to tell you, but even murderers are normal sometimes.”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp. He didn't understand, and she couldn't explain it so that it made sense.
Otto had not been born this way, he'd been made this way, a product of her father's worst qualities. Even if he applied himself, he'd never reach Josef's high standards. The bar would be raised just as it came in reach, and Otto would find himself lacking over and over again.

She was not the only Hampton with bruises. The difference was most of Otto's were on the inside.

“You shouldn't have to make excuses for him,” said Colin.

He was right, of course. Regardless of what Otto had gone through, it didn't excuse what he'd done, or what he'd become. A younger, not quite as cunning version of their father.

Lena was glad her hair was down now; it hid most of her face.

“Can I see your hands?”

“What?” She jerked back, alarmed. “No. That's very rude of you to ask.”

“Trust me,” he said.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust him. But the back side of trust was disappointment. In her world, one did not exist without the other.

Slowly, his hands slipped under her right sleeve. His touch seared a circle around her bare elbow and tucked just underneath the edge of the tattered satin. Every part of her braced, awaiting his next move.

His fingers grazed over the inside of her wrist, going no further.

She nodded.

He eased the fabric down, holding her small forearm between his calloused hands. She gasped; her skin was sensitive, burning. Lightning shot up her arm, branching across her body. Her other hand, still covered, twined in her sweater, working the fabric between her thumb and forefinger.

He bared the delicate skin of her wrist, then the pale flesh of her thumb. He stripped each finger, one at a time, until she felt completely and utterly exposed.

Fear. Shame. But something more, something deeper, swirled inside of her. Her pulse beat frantically beneath his grasp. Her breath came in one hard shudder. It was easy for him, she realized. So easy to touch her this way. So easy to touch
anybody.
She'd seen him with the others—patting their shoulders, shaking their hands, grasping the backs of their necks. They all did it like it was nothing, but to her, it was complicated, and intrusive, and wonderful.

He turned her hand gently, his fingertips never ceasing their caress. She knew she should look away. She couldn't take his reaction when he saw the bruised nubs that would never fully heal, unprotected by fingernails that would never grow back. Seven nails were missing. Four on this hand alone.

It was unsightly.

But she couldn't take her eyes off his face.

He didn't cringe, or even pause. The skin became more sensitive the longer he continued, and a great dark whip curled inside of her, waiting to crack. Rough and smooth and raw, all blending together. He was so gentle. How could he be so gentle? She was shaking to pieces.

He pressed one finger against her empty nail bed. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head.

“This right here,” he said. “I think it's the part of you that's most like me.”

She couldn't process what he was saying. It was all too much, too much exposure, too many feelings she didn't understand.

“I … all right.” She snatched the glove. He gave her room as she thrust her hand within, but when she was sufficiently covered, he reached for her again. A sigh of relief escaped her lips at that small barrier between them.

Then he lifted her knuckles to his mouth and kissed them.

“Thanks,” he said.

Her heart throbbed so sharply, it stole her breath.

“Colin!” called someone from downstairs. A tall, redheaded boy they called T.J.

They both jumped up, and she couldn't help but feel that she'd been caught doing something wrong. That concern was replaced by another as they raced out of the office: it had been too quiet through the afternoon. The Brotherhood was finally attacking the building. Or maybe her father had sent the police.

What would he say when he found her?

There was chaos, directed toward the side of the building. Henry had let someone in. A big man with white hair and a thick, grungy beard pushed a metal cart to an open area in front of the dormant machines. The emergency lights flickered above his head.

Colin skipped down the stairs two at a time, and Lena followed quickly. She recognized the visitor up close as the man who owned the corner rotisserie cart. The one Colin had traded his gloves to for a mug of oily water.

“Hayak?” Colin crossed his arms over his chest.

Martin shoved past him. “Uncle H.?”

He smacked into his uncle hard, and as they embraced the tears began to flow from the old man's eyes.

“This is your uncle?” asked Colin meekly. When Hayak's head lifted, he didn't look particularly pleased.

“What are you doing here?” asked Martin. Lena wondered the same thing.

“You are my sister's son,” said Hayak, mussing Martin's short blond hair. “That is what I am doing here.”

“How'd you get in?” asked Colin.

“Mr. Schultz's men have pulled back across the street. They are standing down, I think. Your foreman allowed me entry.”

Lena's heart lifted as those around her cheered. “What about a meeting with the owner?” she asked. “Has anyone said anything about that?”

A fleeting moment of mortification as all eyes turned to her, and then it passed as they awaited Hayak's answer.

“You must be Miss Hampton,” he said stoically. Lena's stomach plummeted to her feet. So Mr. Schultz had informed her father that she'd been sighted. What Josef's next move would be, she had no idea, but she dreaded it all the same.

Martin detached himself from his uncle's side and slapped a hand companionably on Lena's shoulder, jolting her back to the present.

“She's with us, Uncle H.”

Hayak blew out a slow breath. “That is not what they are saying outside.”

Colin took a step closer to her. She was glad, because her blood had begun to buzz, and she was getting that terrified gnawing again at the base of her spine.

“They are saying she was kidnapped by the Small Parts Charter,” finished Hayak.

“
Kidnapped?
” Lena's head fell back. The second the word left her mouth she could see how her father might have believed it. Or worse, how he had fabricated this rumor to save face. An abducted daughter was far less shameful than a runaway.

Those around her resumed their quiet whispers, and began to distance themselves again.

“I wasn't kidnapped,” she said. “I pledged. To the street rules. And anyway, if he really thought I'd been kidnapped, wouldn't he have tried a little harder to get me out?”

She thought of all the times he'd been gone, all the times he'd let Otto hurt her. How he'd turned Shima away for protecting her. How he'd struck her, and killed her favorite bird, and taught her lesson after lesson with the intention of making her strong.

He'd succeeded. She was strong.

The emotion was back, clogging her throat. She pushed it down. She would not give up any more tears to him. He was her father, but he would never have her back.

Colin was scowling. She reached for his hand, and he didn't pull away. He hadn't upstairs, either, when he'd seen her scars. He hadn't even when the others thought she was a spy. She squeezed his fingers.