“In no time you’ve warmed up to the people here and them to you. I’ve never fuckin’ seen somethin’ like that happen so fast. You fit here, sweetheart. And you got a lot of people here that want you here, whether Mav does or not. Shit, you got grown ass men settin’ alarm clocks just so they don’t miss out on your food and your pretty face each mornin’. Every last one of ’em is gonna kick the shit out of Ricky Boy if you disappear on us. You’ll be signin’ his death warrant.”

He doesn’t really mean that, right? My chest is tight with emotion as his words funnel through me.

“Are you trying to guilt me into staying?”

He points at himself. “Me?” The side of his mouth curls up. “Honey, I’ll use whatever I got in my arsenal that’ll get you to stay. My sourpuss face, my sexy voice. Well, maybe not this smokin’ body.” He full out laughs. “But you get the picture.”

He places gauze over the cut and starts taping it to my skin.

“Plus a pretty little thing like you ain’t safe out there. Not alone. Here, you got a chance. A good one. You have some friends. Lily. And you got some mean ass men lookin’ out for ya. Me. Dozer. It could be more than that. But you leave. You’re never gonna know.”

“Mav hates me, Griz. He looks for things to fault me on. He watches my every move. He twists everything I do into something ugly. And I’ve never done a goddamn thing to him. I know I look like his bitch of an ex, but can’t he see with his own eyes that we’re not the same person?”

“First of all, good for you. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss. Means this place, these people are growin’ on ya.” He winks. “And second, he’s not watchin’ you all the time to find somethin’ wrong with what you’re doin’. Mav can’t take his eyes off you, and it don’t take a genius to know why. Last thing I’m gonna say darlin’ is that you might look like her, but anyone with a pair ‘a eyes can see you’re nothin’ alike. She was weak and manipulative. Sucked him dry of every ounce of happiness he had in him. She took and took like a fuckin’ leech. Never once gave him anything back.”

“All you do is give, Pumpkin. Sooner or later he’s gonna see you for you and who you really are.”

He tilts his head looking at my neck. “I haven’t doctored someone else’s wounds since my Marine Corp days, but even with my fumblin’ fingers and two left thumbs, it’ll do ya ’til tomorrow. Do this old man a favor though. Don’t head out tonight in the dark, bleedin’ with no place to go. I won’t get a lick of sleep if you do. You sleep on it and we’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll have the doc come and check you out, stitch you up. Then you can decide what you’re gonna do. You wanna leave, then I’ll give ya a ride anywhere you wanna go.”

He stands and goes to the bathroom. I hear the water turn on. He comes back a moment later drying off his hands with a small towel.

Sleep on it. See the doctor and then go.

My voice trembles when I ask, “What’s gonna happen to Lita?”

Griz stares down at me. “You don’t worry about her. You worry about you. Why don’t you get cleaned up while I go down and get you some Tylenol?”

I do my best to clean up while he’s gone. Wet a cloth and wash the blood from my skin as much as I can. I run some of my hair through the water and then towel dry it. Afterward, I change into a different set of pajamas. Ones that don’t make me look like I’ve been a victim of the Texas Chainsaw killer.

The sheets are a mess so I pile them in the corner for now. I get in and sit against headboard while at the same time pulling the comforter over me. Griz comes back and hands me two Tylenol and a glass of water. He sits on the edge of the bed. After I take the pills, he gives me a warm smile and pats my arm.

Such a fatherly thing to do.

It strikes me that I could be looking at my father and not know it. He’s the right age. We have similar coloring, and he has green eyes.

“Griz? What’s your real name?”

He considers me for a moment. Understanding lighting up in his eyes. “Mick. Mick O’Brien.” I knew it was a one in a bazillion shot, but still the hope in my chest deflates and sadness flows through me.

He frowns for a moment. “You know his name?” he questions as if he knows why I’m asking. I nod. We’re both quite for a moment.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Can I trust him with the truth? My gut and my heart tell me yes. “My family calls me Em.”

“For Emma?”

“Ember.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “That’s a good name,” he says. “Strong name and you’re a strong girl. You keep fightin’ and you’re gonna make it. I guarantee it.”

Then pushing on his thighs, he stands. “I’m gonna let you get some rest. My door’s just two doors down on the right. Come get me if you need anything.”

He gives me one more nod and strides to the door. At the door, he opens it and then pauses before locking it and closing it behind him.

I hear him say in harsh voice, one I’ve never heard Griz use before, “What did I tell you?”

It’s Mav’s voice, thick with his accent that responds. “Chill the fuck out. I just want to apologize and make sure she’s okay.”

I hear a click. Dead air follows. “You’re really goin’ to shoot me?”

“Come any closer to this door tonight and you’re damn right I will.”

Silence follows for a minute before I hear the sound of heavy footsteps stomping away.

For the first night since coming here, I go to sleep with the door locked and the window closed because I need that little bit of barrier between me and the devil on the other side.

Stop chasing the reaper. Turn around and let him chase you.

MAVERICK

I lost a lot of hard-earned respect tonight. Men who are supposed to be following me, men I’ve long considered brothers, are now questioning me, my judgment . . . my fucking sanity.

They have every right to.

I let the venom of hate I have for Dana fester and build until I’ve become somewhat of a snake myself.

With my hands braced on the sink, I stare at the stranger in the mirror.

My enlarged pupils make my eyes appear darker. Haunted. Bruises bloom across my face, and as I open my tender jaw, the gash on my lip splits open, causing blood and a coppery taste to spill into my mouth. I sheared off my hair all those years ago and every few weeks since, because I wanted to banish the man in me who’d fallen for a girl like Dana. The good guy she’d taken advantage of.

I realize I’ve finally succeeded.

I don’t see the man my parents raised anymore. The kid who attended church every Sunday. The guy who graduated at the top of his class, because learning came easy and he always had a knack for drawing steady lines and remarkable things. I don’t see the restless saint. The one who foolishly thought he could dip his foot in the river of sin and not get pulled under.

The only good I see in my reflection is the biblical stories told on my arm, and the words of God inked on my chest. He discovers deep things out of the darkness and brings out to light the shadow of death. ~Job 12:22.

Words that hold a whole new meaning for me now.

My hands grip the ivory sink as regret washes over me. I clench my eyes shut. God . . . I’ve fucked up . . .

I clung to a wiltin’ black rose. And instead of changing her, I let her change me.

Now I’m drowning in darkness . . . And I’ve just attacked the only person who’s brought any color to my dark world.

Doll.

Yet I treat her like she’s Dana.

One deserves the man I am now. The man she made me into. The other does not. Doll wasn’t the catalyst that changed me. Yet she’s the one dealing with the fallout.

She’s just lookin’ for a place to land where someone will give a fuck about her. She’s fightin’ to survive. Give her a goddamn chance to.