Page 95 of Keep You Close

“Like he tracks her down? Like he beats the shit out of her? He almost killed her once. Beat her so bad she blacked out. Then kept fucking doing it over and over again after that.”

“I don’t think anyone here thinks the fucker deserves to live,” Shane said. “We just don’t know if you should be the one to do this. That’s not the life you live.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I didn’t hurt people.

I never had an urge to do so.

But it didn’t feel right to put this off on someone else either.

“I got this,” I said, shaking my head.

There was a gun in a bag in my trunk.

I was prepared to do what it took to get AJ safe.

The men shared a look, none of them liking my answer, but also understanding that it wasn’t their place to stop me.

“Alright,” Kingston said, sighing hard. “Last place I tracked his card to is a shitty short-term rental a couple of towns over. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t gone back to his place yet,” he said, rattling off an address, then giving me a printout of directions. Old fucking school.

“Where’s your phone?” Kingston asked.

I handed it over.

“We’ll create an alibi,” he said, handing the phone to Rush, who nodded toward Ryan Mallick. “Here’s your temporary one. Our numbers are all on the back of the directions, if you need backup.”

“And here,” Charlie said, handing me a single key on a ring. “You need a car without GPS,” he explained.

“I’ll bring your car to my place,” King said. “And that’s… everything,” he said, face tight, not liking this.

“It’s gonna be alright,” I assured him. “Where am I driving this car after?” I asked.

“My house,” Charlie said. “I will handle it from there.”

There were a few more things said, but my mind was already on the task ahead, my adrenaline rushing through my veins, my memory flashing to AJ’s sobs as she cried into my chest. The blood on her face. The bruise that was still on her cheek, just covered up with some heavy makeup, the pain that sliced across her face when she forgot about her bum wrist, and tried to do something with that hand.

As I climbed in the old clunker of a car, the whole radio ripped out, nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company, I went ahead and let my mind wander, to imagine all those times this bastard made AJ feel less than she was.

Calling her fat.

Telling her she was ugly.

Saying the way she was built made her look like a ‘slut.’

Making her kowtow and shrink into herself.

Then still, still, feeling the need to beat the ever-loving shit out of her.

To the point of unconsciousness.

I followed the directions, then parked my car a block away along with a bunch of others that must have belonged to some sort of holiday party.

No one saw me climbing out of the car, thin leather gloves on my hands. Even if they did, they’d have no idea there was a gun tucked in the waistband of my pants.

Or that I had revenge on my mind as I huddled into myself against the cold as I walked down the street, then up the driveway of the rental house.

It was a small cape-style house with chipped paint and cracked storm windows.

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