Objective: (Bloodlines Book 2) (26 page)

“Life?” Her brow knits together at my suggestion.

“Yeah, we all know that the lie is that we go to school and work hard and will end up with good lives and jobs and live happily ever after...so what’s the truth?”

“Fine. Life. The truth is, life is hard. Life hurts. It’s a complete shit show.” Her tone is clipped and jaded and I can’t help but think that somehow it’s my fault she feels that way. She takes a long swig of her beer, finishing it off, and slides off her seat.

“I’m grabbing another, you need one?” She eyes my mug and looks up at me.

“
Naw. I’m good.” She saunters, glass in hand, up to the end of the bar, pushes up onto her toes and leans over the bar, wagging her glass to get the bartender’s attention. I watch as he notices her. He’s older and looks worn down, tired and disheveled. His face breaks into a wide grin and he pushes past a bar back to get down to her. They shake hands and exchange words that I can’t hear and it strikes me as odd. He nods seriously at something she says before taking her glass and replacing it with a fresh tall beer. She slides cash across the bar top to him and his hand covers hers with the money under it. The hair at the back of my neck prickles. Something is off. I watch as he half smiles and nods at something else before she turns, hair thrown over her shoulder and comes back to me.

“Truth or lie,
Mags?” I ask.

“I just went,” she replies, looking at me quizzically.

“Truth or lie?” I push.

“Truth again,” she shrugs.

“How the hell did you pay for your beer?” She grimaces and looks sheepishly at me.

“I stole from you,” she admits with a little pout. Her bottom lip looks edible.

“When?”

“This morning when you were in the shower. I took a twenty outta your pants pocket. She’s being honest, I can see it written all over her face, but for some reason I still feel that something is seriously off about the situation.

“How do you know the bartender?” I venture. Her expression darkens and I’m not sure how to read it.

“I met him when I was here for my tattoo. I came here every night for the three or four nights I stayed in town. I drank a lot. He owns the bar,” she explains rather bluntly. It’s a likely story. It makes sense, adds up if you will, but it
feels
wrong. I can’t put my finger on it though so I leave it alone.

“Oh,” I answer indifferently.

“Cane,” she reaches out covering my hand with hers. “It was...I was, am, different. It all changed me. I’m sorry if you don’t want to acknowledge that but it’s the truth.”

“I know and I’m sorry.” Neither of us want to get any closer to the elephant in the room than we already have. Tomorrow all the fun ends. The trip ends. We head home together for the first time in almost two years. It’s a death sentence for her and a lifetime of torture for me. There is no way I will come away from this unscathed. I expect
that, much like her, I will be changed. Hard and unyielding. Our happy mirage of love and life hangs by a thread, delicately holding on through our sick game of unwillingness to face the truth. I flip my hand palm-up under hers and grasp it roughly. I never want to let go. She squeezes back and drowns herself in the rest of her beer.

The Starlite Drive-in movie theatre was playing
2-Guns
. We pulled in and set up shop. Mags begged me to get a large popcorn and a water and of course I’d caved. How could I not when she’d gushed that the whole drive in experience was ‘magical’. Neither of us had never been to a drive-in before and although it’s not stadium seating, reclining chairs and surround sound there was something awesome about watching a movie out under the stars with a crackling radio frequency blaring the audio. I spread out a spare blanket from the hotel room and we sat snuggled together. Every once in a while she’d readjust herself and nuzzle into me more and I’m not going to lie - I loved every second of it. Her smell, her feel, the way her long silky hair brushed against my skin. It
was
magical. It was the kind of date night, bar moment aside, that you never wanted to end. Almost six years after meeting, dating, living together and losing each other she still made me feel like home. I’d lied to her earlier about truth and family. She was my family. She did always support and love me and she always made me feel like I had a reason to be. It was only without her that my world disintegrated. She was my glue, my reason for staying good. My reason for constantly striving to be a better man, a decent man. When she vanished, so did my moral compass. I was truly lost without her.
 

She lets out a long yawn that reminds me of a sound a kitten would make and leans against me. “We’re almost back I think. Tired?” I ask quietly as I drive us back to the hotel.

“Yeah,” she breathes. Her hand slides up my shirt, her fingers grazing my skin gently. I don’t know how to make this moment last an eternity but I’d do anything asked of me to make it happen. I park in the lot and get her door for her. She smiles up at me, silently thanking me for thinking of her and takes my hand so I can lead us to our room for the night.

“I’m not too tired, you know,” she murmurs bumping my side playfully. I give her my best shocked expression as the key card slides into the slot and beeps our entrance. There is no way we will be just sleeping tonight.

Chapter 19

She’s got her bag packed and one strap over her shoulder and she’s scanning the room looking for things she may have missed. I stuff the last of my clothes into my pack and zip it shut roughly. Our morning thus far has been tense and quiet, the pressure of our bubble weighing heavily on us both. She shrugs finally and sighs. “It’s not like I really need to remember anything,” she mumbles to herself. My chest constricts painfully at her quiet words.

“Mags...”

“Don’t, Cane.” She holds up a hand to stop me. “You did what you promised and the last four days have been amazing. Besides a couple of bruises and whatnot, it was pretty much just how a road trip would have been before. I love you, you know? So, thank you.” Her words cut deep. So straight forward and unemotional. It kills me. I want to know how she shuts down so well, how she keeps all the feelings at bay. We exit the room and head to the front desk to check out. I can’t find the right words, so I just say nothing at all. We are walking in deafening silence towards the car when I just can’t take it anymore. I am not going to do this. I cannot do this.

I stop and pull her to me before we reach the car. “Run away with me,” I murmur, holding her to me tightly. The mood this morning has been thick and tense. We both know what’s coming.

“Cane,” she says, voice full of emotion.

“We could disappear, Magnolia,” I say seriously. She shakes her head just barely and the warmth in her face disappears. Something darker creeps over her features. Her eyes are stormy, hard and determined.

“I can’t,” she chokes out, flustered. “I’m sorry but I...I can’t, Cane.” She pushes away from me and folds into the car, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Why?!” I bark at her, confused as hell.

“Don’t,” she begs. “Leave it, Cane. You’ll never understand.”

“Explain it then. Baby, I can understand anything you tell me,” I plead.

“Not this.” She shakes her head solemnly. “This is mine. You’d never understand how it drives me. How I have to do this.” She tries to explain. How what drives her? The
Mags I knew would have said yes. This new version of her frustrates me and tests my patience. I need her. Doesn’t she see that? Doesn’t she want me the way she did before? She can’t be so broken now that she
wants
to die. I growl at her, thoroughly fucking mad, and slam her door shut. From the corner of my eye I see her jump when it closes but I stalk around the hood of the car and get into the driver’s seat without apologizing. I crank the key in the ignition, throw it into drive and peel away from the hotel leaving a black streak of burnt rubber behind on the pavement behind.

The four-hour drive takes only three due to my driving like a maniac. Not that I’m in a rush to reach our destination but the silence in the car is maddening. I wanted to pull off the highway so many times. To shake, hell beat, sense into her. Her body language was stiff and hard the entire drive. You could almost watch her steeling herself over the course of our drive. It scares me, her determination to die. It’s as if she's been preparing for this the entire time, but why? I want to try harder to sway her, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to reach her like this. I don’t know what’s driving her. She’s like a fortress, so well protected and guarded. One moment it feels like she’s all in. She’s mine. Then the next she’s hard and impenetrable. I can’t keep up and I have a sinking feeling that this new version of her is my fault somehow.

The car vibrates under us. She taps her foot uncontrollably on the floor with nerves. I’m not ready for this. How could I be? I need more time. Her hands are wrung tightly together in her lap.

“Ready?” I ask grimly.

“I can handle it, alright? I mean I'm here, aren't I? I'm here right now! I'm not leaving!” she snips. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel and I refuse to look at her. I watch from the corner of my eye as she runs her fingers through her hair to get it off her neck. I’m so hot suddenly as we pull into a space along the street in front of our old home. Sweat beads at the hairline on my neck. Once upon a time, it wasn’t at all weird to be in this apartment, but now it is all wrong, like being at a fair after all the rides and lights are shut down. I shut the engine off, fold out of the car and open her door as she unbuckles. This entire situation is psychotic.

“Let’s go,” I growl, yanking her by the arm. I’m not mad at her. I’m pissed beyond reason at the situation and I don’t know how to change it. She seems to have a death wish.

“Don’t touch me!” she growls back, tugging herself free.
Her brow wears a faint sign of panic even though she’s trying to give off the impression that she's nothing but prepared and unaffected.

We make the trek together, up the stairs to what we used to call home. I walk a pace behind her. Her gait slows as she approaches the door. She turns to me, sadness in her eyes. “I’ll always love you, Cane.” Her words slice through me and the look she gives guts me. She’s ready. She’s accepted that this is the only outcome and she is willing to die for me. For
me
. I feel I’m already mourning the end of something that hasn’t come close to an end. I don’t have much time but I need to figure something out. Too much - everything - feels wrong. She said that even the most damaged heart can be mended once, and she makes me feel that, believe it.

Jimmy and Dave stand outside the door guarding it, or more accurately guarding the person inside. I don’t look either of them in the eye. I keep my focus on Magnolia. She turns to face them and I grip the back of her neck gently as they open the door and usher us in. Magnolia gasps at the sight. I hold mine in but even I didn't know what we were walking into. The living room looks just as it did the day she left. The hardwood floor still stained a deep red from my blood in the living room. Ezra is sitting on the couch, back to us, staring out the window. I haven't been here since that day either and I feel nauseous looking around. He’s kept everything just as it was.

“Tie her to the chair,” he gestures over his shoulder, not bothering to face us. I glance left and find a dining room chair. Next to it on the floor is rope. Briefly I close my eyes. Maybe when I open them everything will be different. By the time I snap my eyes open, Magnolia has seated herself. I plead with her through eye contact to put up some sort of fight, to give me a reason to act out. She does nothing though, and I silently curse her for giving up.

“Where is the pack?” Ezra demands, prowling to where she sits. I’m kneeling behind her, binding her hands to the chair at her back.

“Gone,” she whimpers, lip trembling.

“I know that’s a lie. Where. Is. The. Pack?” He backhands her, hard, sending her head lurching to the left. Blood oozes from her lip and I hide my cringe. I stand and move to the side. If he makes me watch this torture I am going to puke everywhere or do something even more stupid. Like kill him.

“I spent it all!” she says, defiantly lifting her chin. Why won't she just give it to him? He spins to me, disgust etched on his face.

“One task. Recover the backpack and take care of her. I know why you've been waiting so long. Why you haven't killed her. I think you're afraid that when it's over, your heart will still be broken. But the present is
now
, Cane. You need to take control. Make her a real memory, one that will never come back. Memories can be distorted. They're just an interpretation, Cane, they're not a record, and they're irrelevant if you have the facts. She
killed
you
,
or so she thought, then took my money and ran,” he growls at me. “Now take the bitch down once and for all, Cane,” Ezra snarls. I stand unmoving as he speaks. I will not be the one to lay a hand on her. My posture’s stiff, frozen, and my thoughts are drowning out his words. I need to think, fast. “I knew you couldn’t be objective. One toss of her pretty black hair and you’re a bumbling idiot. You always did think with the wrong head.” I clench my fists at his words but know better than to let my disdain show on my face. I’m still trying to figure out how the hell to get out of this situation. “Do you think you belong with her? Your legacy is with us. Family. You’re no better than I am. Do not forget that you come from a long line of scumbags. You’re just like me,” he snarls, and for a moment I’m swayed to believe him. I’ve done illegal things. Bad things. But Mags always wanted more for me. She encouraged me and believed I was worth more than that. “She was sweet,” he goes on, making my blood boil. “So innocent and into you. I always did want what I couldn’t have. You were so taken with her, I just had to find out what all the commotion was about,” he sneers. I don’t know what he’s talking about but my rage is growing with every word that comes out of his mouth.