Page 7 of Blue

He nodded.

I led Kiss to the rear of the trailer and into one of the back bedrooms. There wasn’t any furniture, but the place seemed clean. It didn’t stink, and the carpets had vacuum cleaner tracks. She dropped to the floor, lay on her side, and pillowed her hands beneath her cheek.

I sat underneath the window, leaned against the wall, bent my knees, and draped my hands over them. She rolled and faced me.

“Why haven’t you answered any of my texts?” I asked.

Red and blue lights cut through the blinds and illuminated the room. Blonde hair that reminded me of pale sunsets tumbled around her face, but her blue eyes clouded with a drug induced inkiness.

“I didn’t get the messages.” She shifted her gaze away from me.

“Don’t bullshit me, Kiss. I’ve been texting you for six weeks. I’ve been hitting up parties and trap houses withCruz since I’ve been able to sit on my bike. I was out of my fucking head worried about you. You didn’t say shit to anyone. You just left. Fuck. Kiss, at Indulgence—” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I didn’t know if they hurt you.”

She kept her eyes lowered. A couple moments of silence followed. She wasn’t going to explain, maybe ask how the fuck I coped with my injuries. She was able to walk away from that night.

“At least, fucking look at me.”

“Fine.” Her gaze snapped back at me.

“Don’t fucking try to guilt me on this.” I’d been her 911 for weeks before shit went down at Indulgence. I’d bought her food, hotels, and paid her fucking cell phone bill for the last few months, so she wouldn’t have to go to her source and pay with pussy.

“I’m not.” She sat up and crossed her legs. “I wanted to call.”

“You should’ve been at the MC, then you wouldn’t have had to worry about calling. But you gave zero fucks about me.”

“Now, who is dealing in guilt?”

I sighed and plucked a stray string from the threadbare patch at the knee of my jeans. “I guess I am. I was down for three weeks, Kiss.” Apathy was worse than rejection. I’d nearly lost everything trying to protect her. I betrayed my friendship with Bullet. I’d lied to my mentor, to a man who’d shown me nothing but respect—for her. “You could’ve told me to my face to fuck off.”

“It wasn’t about you.”

I growled, and my teeth clenched. It was never about me. Only it was always about me. “That’s the problem, Kiss. It should’ve been about me.”

“I couldn’t stay at the MC. I didn’t mean to stay away from you.” Her voice quieted. “I couldn’t call or text.” She released a shaky exhale. “I sold my phone.”

“For black?”

She nodded.

I dropped my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. “Make me understand, Kiss. Because I’m trying to figure out why I give a fuck when you don’t. I’m talking about everything. You don’t give a fuck about me. You clearly don’t care about yourself or about staying clean.”

“I’m not worth caring about. I told you I’d eventually fuck you over, but you wouldn’t believe me. Don’t make this my fault. What do you want from me?”

Before I could reply, Cruz stood in the hallway, read the room, and spoke to the other guys.

“In here.” Cruz indicated the room across the hall. “They need a bit of privacy.”

“I don’t know who the fuck he is to her,” Sam said. “But I’ve been feeding her habit. We deal in trade, and she owes me.”

Tears slipped onto Kiss’s cheeks, and her eyes slowly closed. This was how she fucked me up.

I jumped to my feet and crossed the room. “You stick another fucking needle in her and the next hit you put in your veins will be drain cleaner.”

Cruz stepped between us. “Step back, Sam. Make sure you want this kind of trouble. She’s a fucking Heller, and that makes her ours.”

“Calm the fuck out,” Kane said. “We’ve got bigger problems. The whole fucking police department is in my crib.” He glared at Sam. “I’m not blaming you, but this might all be your fault. You need to sit the fuck down.”

Sam stared past me to Kiss. Then he glared at Cruz. “Consider the favor repaid.”

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