Page 9 of Inflame Me
My mother!I want to be pissed as hell at her, but I can’t. She didn’t know this wouldn’t work, and all she wanted was to help us.
“In,” bandana man says.
I move into a wood-paneled office holding a large desk with a computer on top. Pictures line the walls, but I only glimpse at them, focusing my attention on the man in front of me. The click of the door echoes in my ears just as all the music blasting through the place quiets down to a more tolerable level. The thump of my heart takes its place in my ears, though.
My arm is released, but the door is blocked by a wide chest, crossed with arms, each lined with tattoos. I look away and search the room for windows, a phone, even though I have no one to call, something. There is nothing. The windows are covered in bars, and if there is a phone, I don’t see it. Dammit!
I shrink back from the thick, heavy tension in the room. I want to be the standup woman I know is inside me; however, something about these intimidating men makes me want to fall into myself. So not normal.
Bandana man strokes his beard thoughtfully. “You said your mother told you to come here?” I nod my head, words unable to escape my lips. “What is your mother’s name?”
I absolutely do not want to give these men my mother’s name. Shit, I already told them my first name, another stupid mistake. I don’t speak, only stare.
“Look, Tanner, you need to tell us what the fuck is going on here. We don’t like open-ended shit and definitely don’t like it showing up at our doorstep. You tell us what’s going on, and we go from there.” It sounds reasonable when he puts it like that. In fact, his matter-of-fact tone is welcoming, comforting, even through all this chaos. Not that these men will help me, but if I at least tell them, maybe they’ll let me go. Maybe.
“My mother’s name is Mearna.”
Bandana man takes a step back like I’ve slapped him across the face then punched the wind out of him. He sits on the corner of the desk, his hands coming to grip it tightly. His knuckles are so white I’m surprised he doesn’t crack the wood.
“And how old are you?” he asks.
“Twenty-three,” I say quietly, keeping my eyes on both the men. Even when I was stabbing James, I never felt this kind of fear for myself. For my mother, yes, but myself? No, not until now.
“Fucking hell!” Bandana man bellows, and I jump again at his furious words. “Mearna O’Ryan is your mother?”
I take another step back from him at my mother’s full name. Holy shit, he knows her.
My lips move, but nothing comes out. It must be shock.
The presence that I’ve come to recognize as the sexy, scary man comes to my back. His hands grip my shoulders, and I tense. Then he moves them up and down my arms, and as weird as it sounds, it is actually comforting. It takes a beat, but it really helps with the nerves.
“Yes,” I whisper, answering him finally.
“You have got to be fucking shitting me!” bandana man booms, turning around to the desk and crashing everything to the floor in a huge sweep.
I step back, falling into a rock hard body with nowhere to go. My eyes widen as bandana man picks up a chair and throws it across the room like it’s nothing. Then it smashes to the ground in a loud crash. The arms at my shoulders come around me as he leads me a few steps back toward the far wall.
Bandana man stands there, his chest rising and falling with obvious exertion.
“You about done? You’re scaring the shit out of her.” The man behind me says, and he’s not lying. If anything, it brings back memories of James, only adding to my fear of this man.
“Fuck!” bandana man screams and turns around, his back to me. It rises and falls, his intakes of breath very audible in the room.
Shit, what have I gotten myself into?
“It’ll be okay,” is whispered in my ear, not helping much.
Bandana man turns around and stares at me, really stares, taking every single one of my features in, which I feel very uneasy about. This goes on for long moments while I stand here, feeling like I’m drowning, and all the while, my mother is outside in the car. God, I hope she’s all right.
“You look just like her,” bandana man finally says, and I gasp. “Same reddish hair, same rich green eyes. I should have known just by looking at you.” He pauses. “She really think Cameron Wagner is your father?”
I suck in deep. “She’s never told me his name until we were on our way here. I never knew about him. She said he’s the only one who can help us right now. That’s why we came here.”
“We? She’s here?” the bandana man questions, and my stomach falls. Me and my freaking mouth. How come I can’t keep a lid on it? Oh, no, I seem to keep sticking my foot so far in it I’m surprised I’m not choking. No use in lying; they’ll just go out to the lot and see.
“She’s out in the car.”
“Fucking hell!” bandana man says, pushing off the desk and going to the door.
