Page 8 of Razor
Razor chuckled, “I’m not sure that Ella can fit in your clothes, honey. And I’m pretty sure that she has a different style than you do.”
“Not true,” Ella insisted. “I love Violet’s style. I think that we chose some very smart outfits to bring with us.” He wanted to remind her that this wasn’t a fashion show—it was about finding a safe place to lay low until he could figure out what to do about the Devils coming after her.
“They aren’t my clothes, Daddy,” Violet announced, rolling her big green eyes at him. He always loved his daughter’s sass, but right now, he didn’t have time for any of this.
“Whose are they then?” he asked, cutting right to the chase.
“I found them in the spare room,” Violet proudly boasted. Razor knew exactly what clothes she had found for Ella—Tori’sold ones. He couldn’t bring himself to get rid of a majority of her clothes after she was gone. They still smelled like her. He told himself that he would let them go someday, but that was a lie. He was holding onto them because letting them go meant that he’d have to let Tori go, and he wasn’t ready to do that yet. Razor didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to let his wife go.
“Those were Mommy’s,” he almost whispered.
“Shit, oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to cuss in front of you, Violet. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that these are your wife’s clothes. I will go back up and unpack them now, so she won’t miss them.”
“My mommy won’t wear them anymore,” Violet insisted, grabbing Ella’s hand as she tried to leave the room.
“Why won’t she wear them anymore?” Ella asked. Razor groaned, not wanting to get into the logistics about his wife’s death right now, but this conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and they needed to hit the road.
“They were my wife’s clothes, but she’s gone now, and she doesn’t need them,” he said. There, that was as close as he could get to the truth without having to say the words, “My wife is dead,” out loud. “You are welcome to them,” he lied. He knew that telling her to put by Tori’s clothes would seem heartless after all Ella had been through. She had lost everything—almost her life, and Razor knew that Tori would want the poor woman to have her things. That was just the kind of person she was—always thinking of others before herself. Hell, if she were around still, she’d insist that Ella take the clothes with her blessing.
“Are you sure?” Ella asked, looking between him and Violet. His daughter’s pleading eyes were his undoing. He was sure that Tori would want Ella to have her things.
“I’m sure,” he said, now with a little more certainty. “She would have wanted you to have them. Besides, you are about the same size as she was.”
“What happens if she comes back and wants her clothes?” Ella asked. “I’d feel awful if that happened.”
“It won’t happen,” Razor almost whispered. “It can’t.”
“My mommy is dead, and Daddy said that she can’t come back to visit us from heaven,” Violet chimed in. Razor wanted to tell his daughter to stop telling everyone about her mother’s death, but her therapist told him that it was normal for kids her age to tell everyone that her mom was gone. It was part of her healing process. He often wondered if he had done the same—admitted the truth about Tori, he'd be able to start the healing process, and finally be able to move on.
“I’m so sorry,” Ella said, looking between the two of them. “I really don’t mind putting everything back,” she offered again. “I don’t have any money, and I’m betting that my things are all gone—including my apartment and bank account. I just hated the idea of you having to waste your money on new things for me.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste,” Razor assured. “And I’m positive that Tori would want you to wear her things. Violet is right—she isn’t coming back from heaven.” Razor was done standing in his kitchen and talking about his dead wife. He grabbed the bag of clothing from her hand and picked up Violet’s little suitcase. “We should be going. I’ll be in touch, Spade,” he said, turning back to his friend.
“Check in tonight after you get to the safehouse,” Spade ordered. “In the meantime, I’m going to call Mace and the guys into a special meeting at the club. They need to be brought up to speed. If the Devils think that the Road Reapers are involved with Ella, it could mean trouble.
“Good idea,” Razor said, “we will need all the help that we can get.”
“What are the Road Reapers?” Ella asked.
“Daddy’s biker club. He and Uncle Spade are the Enforcers since they are police officers,” Violet shared. His daughter suddenly seemed to have lost control of her tongue, and he was going to have to have a talk with her about oversharing.
“Uncle Spade and I are Detectives, honey,” he reminded Violet.
“Sorry,” she said, rolling her eyes at him again, making Spade laugh.
“You’re going to have your hands full with her,” he whispered into Razor’s ear. He wasn’t telling him something that he didn’t already know.
“You both are in a biker club?” Ella asked.
“Yeah, and I’ll answer your questions once we get on the road,” Razor promised. That promise was the only way that they were going to get going, so it was one that he’d easily make. The question was—would he keep it?
Ella
Ella had a million questions swirling around her very tired mind, but she knew that asking them all at once would seem too pushy of her. The events of the last six months seemed to have finally caught up with her, and all she wanted to do was sleep. “How long until we get there?” she asked.
“Five to six hours, depending on how many snacks Violet needs and how many pee breaks she’ll need after those snacks,” Razor said, smiling back at his daughter in the rear-view mirror. He seemed like a good dad, and she couldn’t imagine him having to go it alone.
“Have you been a single dad for long?” she asked. It was her subtle way of finding out how long his wife had been gone.
