Page 86 of Never Say Die
Dixie Goodwin died with a novelty t-shirt pressed to her neck.
That’s where Aiden had found Shay, on the sidewalk in front of the House of Blues, propping Dixie’s head in his lap while a security guard spoke sweetly to her, holding the slit on her throat closed with a newly purchased souvenir.
Another woman had wept and moaned, held back by a second security guard, uttering her name like a hymn—Dixie Goodwin. Baby girl. Dixie. Sweetheart, no. Why. Dixie. Graduating next year. Dixie. Dixie. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Dixie Goodwin. My best friend. What will I tell her mom? Dixie, honey, no.
Once Aiden had pushed through the ogling crowd, he’d set his hand on Shay’s shoulder and said, “We need to go.”
“Police’ll want my statement,” Shay had said. So, they’d waited, listened to whispers escalate, and after seven excruciating minutes, the police arrived, and Shay told an officer what he’d seen. “A girl,” he’d said, nodding. “Think she had a knife.”
But Aiden knew the marks on Dixie’s pale throat, still looped with purple beads. He saw the place where claws had punctured, digging into her like gardening shears. How Laura hadflayed her, leaving her throat carved. Blood followed cigarette butts into a street drain. Dixie’s empty eyes stared at the starless sky, and Aiden wondered if she’d had time to be afraid.
Both security guards had corroborated Shay’s statement, and the coroner had arrived with the ambulance. Then they’d left, just like that, shuffling back to the Sheraton where Georgia, Dylan, Pru, and Camila hid in their hotel suite.
In the elevator, Shay inhaled, startled, and put two fingers to the bruises blooming above Aiden’s choker. “I almost?—”
“I’m fine, Shay,” Aiden said, and stepped into the hallway.
“We should text Kelly. Maeve gave me her number—we can get a hold of her, too.”
“Yeah, let’s deal with my sister first. We’ll call the calvary in the morning.”
“We’re supposed to beleavingin the morning, Aiden.”
“I’ll fly Maeve to New York,” he said, exhausted, and swiped his keycard.
Aiden had thought of nothing but Maeve and New York and Laura. He’d dwelled on the options they didn’t have and mourned the time they’d lost. Raged against fate, challenged his consequences, welcomed a goddam war. But everything had changed an hour ago. Laura, looking at Camila, had called for a cease fire. Laura, finding another Ramírez, had fucked everything to hell and back.
Camila paced in the main room, chewing on her thumbnail. When Aiden laid his eyes on her, he saw his sister, eleven years old, pacing in the kitchen, waiting for their father to return home. Everyone talked at once. Georgia said,what happened,and Pru said,estás bien, and Dylan said,what a night, huh?By the time Aiden understood Camila—get in here—he was already in the bathroom, and she was twisting the lock.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She whirled on him, forcing him to plop on the toilet seat.She turned his chin one way, then the other. Picked at his hands. Assessed his knuckles. She touched his neck last, and even when he snatched her wrists, she broke free, shouting wordlessly at him. They’d done this before. When they were teenagers, Aiden would return home with a blackened eye, or Camila would hide bruises with concealer, and they’d force roughened love onto each other.
Stop getting your ass kicked, Aiden.
I’ll cut his head off if he touches you again, Cami.
Camila unclipped the collar. Her knees hit the tile in front of him, and her deep, dark eyes welled as she tore at the band-aids, revealing punctures and the scarring gash. She covered her mouth with both hands, and Aiden turned away, staring at the shower—avoiding her, hurt over him.
“Aiden,” she said, breathless and weak. Her hands fluttered on his throat, too nervous to land. “Aiden, what’s he done to you?”
“Nothing, Cami. He got rough with a hickey—it’s not a big deal. Just a little bruise.”
“You promised me,” she snapped, resting her palms on the finger-shaped divots purpling his skin. “You are my blood. You aremine, Aiden. Mine to protect, mine to look after. You think you can lie to me? You might be able to ignore what we are, but I am Camila Valentina Ramírez, and these arehishands. I feel it in my blood. I know it in your skin—blessed by brujería, made sacred, same as mine.”
Aiden exhaled hard. “It was an accident, manita. Shay would never—hey!”
Camila threw open the door and stormed into the main room. Her voice carried, high and loud and furious, and she swung her open hand, striking Shay across the cheek. “That’s my baby brother, Shay! You think you can touch him without me knowing? You think you can put your hands on him? I’llbury you in the ground, Bennett. I swear, on my motherfuckin’ name, I’ll be the end of you. You touch him again and?—”
“Whoa, Cami, holy shit, calm down!” Georgia shoved her way between them.
Shay flinched and went still. “Camila, it’s not what you think.”
“Have you seen his neck, Georgia?” Camila shouted, jabbing her arm toward Aiden who stormed into the room behind her. She lunged for Shay again, but Aiden caught her arm. “Look at him! Look at what you did to him, you abusive son-of-a-bitch!”
Georgia glanced at Aiden’s throat and her eyes widened. “Aiden, oh my God. . .”
“Stop, Cami. C’mon. We’re leaving—stop,” he said, and snuck his arms around her middle, hauling her backward. Trying to contain her wasn’t simple. Never had been. Like wrangling a really big, really mean cat. “Don’t throw elbows, bitch. That’senough. I’m serious—Pru, can you…?”
