Page 51 of Demon

His words, though heavy, comfort me. After finishing our meal, we stand to leave, but as we head for the door, his demeanor shifts. He steps ahead of me, scanning the street with laser focus. “Go back inside,” he orders, his tone deadly serious.

Dread hijacks my body and I can’t move. He turns and physically moves me inside and over to the wall near the window. With his hands on my arms, he says, “Stay here. Don’t leave until I come and get you.”

I give a quick nod, my throat tight. Watching him disappear out the back, I glance out the window anxiously. Minutes later, I see him near a car, and then I hear a wail.

Heart thundering, I rush outside despite his earlier warning. Other people on the sidewalk rush away from the car. Jett’s bent over in the window. Inside the car, the driver’s hand is impaled into the dashboard, with blood dripping out of it and his nose. A sudden coldness hits my core. Jett has a gun in his other hand, which he’s aiming at the passenger, whose arms are up in surrender. He’s deathly calm.

My eyes are bulging and my hand flies to my mouth. When Jett pulls the knife out of the man’s hand, the man cries out. I flinch and avert my gaze, but hear Jett say, “If you follow Ivy again, my knife will be in your throats instead of your hand.” It’s Demon’s psychotic voice, and he sounds both sinister and delighted.

One man’s still crying, but I hear both reply, “Okay.” Then one says, “We’ll go back to Vegas now.”

Jett turns back quickly. His eyes flick to me, then widen slightly. He shakes his head. He still has his gun aimed at the men in the car. “Go to the motorcycle.” His voice is firm, so I follow his instructions and dash away from the carnage, but I can’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder as I do.

Jett moves to the car’s hood, gun in one hand still aimed at the men and his knife in the other. He slams his knife into the grille at the front of the car, releasing a hiss and spray of liquid. Then he walks toward me while still keeping an eye on them. I fumble trying to grab the helmet, my hands shaking. We get on the bike, and I hold on tightly.

Jett races away and speeds back to the clubhouse. He parks outside, and when we get off, my legs feel like jelly. I put the helmet over his handlebars and then he steps over to me and cups my chin, tilting it upward so we make eye contact. His eyes penetrate mine. “I’ll never apologize for doing whatever’s necessary to protect you.”

I stare at him. This is him... the enforcer ... the protector... my savior... but I’m still shaken by the violence. “I know,” I whisper.

He searches my eyes. “Death doesn’t scare me, but you know what does?”

I swallow and shake my head.

“Losing you.”

I drown in his gaze before I wrap my arms around his waist. We hold each other. How much he cares about me is lethal. He’s dangerous and wild. He’s everything I should run from... but I can’t, I’m staying. He’s obsessed with me... but I’m equally obsessed with him.

When we walk inside and into the living room, conversations pause and heads turn our way. I spot Axle, who’s rushing over with a lopsided grin. Once he reaches us, Jett says, “Must I go and get some duct tape for your mouth?”

Axle’s jaw falls open, but then he smirks and winks. “Kinky... but no thanks. I’ll take that as a hint, hint, nudge, nudge to leave you two alone.” Axle’s watching us, but his eyes linger on Jett. His stance changes. Axle must sense something because his eyes darken and he stands up straight. “What happened?”

“We need a church meeting,” Jett replies in a sharp tone.

Axle clips his head in a nod. “I’ll round up the troops.”

With my mind still reeling, I try to make myself useful and go help the women in the kitchen while the men have a meeting. I make a potato salad to go with dinner.

After getting Sammy into the bath, I leave the room and quietly cry in the hallway. I just want this nightmare to be over. Jett’s violent attack earlier shook me, but if those men were there to hurt me again, how could I hold it against him for protecting me? He said he would do anything to keep me safe, and today he proved he meantanything.But in broad daylight...What if Jett ends up in jail because of me?

Sammy gets changed into her pajamas, then she’s in Jett’s bed with the teddy and the doll on one side and the old unicorn on the other. I flick through the channels until I find a kids’ show that has brightly colored talking horses and pass her the remote. “You can change it if you want. I’ll only be downstairs, but I’ll be up to check on you. If you get really tired, you can just go to our bedroom and sleep.”

She yawns. “Okay... But Mom?”

“Yes.”

“When can I have my own bed again?”

I frown. “What do you mean? When are we going back to our home so you can be in your own bed?”

She throws me a sour look. “No, I like it here. I want my own bed so I can spread out, and your alarm is so loud it hurts my ears.”

I like that she’s enjoying it here, but I don’t miss her subtly trying to kick me out of the room with her. Though she is getting older now. “Okay, I’ll see if there’s another spare bed for me to sleep in.” I lean down and kiss her on the cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, Mom.”

I go downstairs and into the kitchen to find the other women taking food outside. “Do you need any help?” I ask no one in particular.

“We’re all good,” Trixie replies warmly. “But thanks.”

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