Page 210 of Severed Heart
“That explains shit,” I expel, the tension in me due to his own safety as I offer my hand to help him up. Denying my outstretched hand, he palms the concrete before standing on shaking legs as I pull out my phone. “Who are you?”
“Zach,” he expels, eyes darting to the side door.
“That still explains nothing. Why are you sleeping on our couch, Zach?”
He bites his lip, the fear in him palpable, terror in his eyes, which look slightly familiar. It’s the rest of him that I can’t place. I gauge him carefully, seeing signs of extreme fatigue. Even beneath the dim shop light, I can see his complexion is gaunt, and he’s extremely malnourished by the looks of him. Pocketing my phone, I decide to act first and ask Russell questions later, knowing this situation could go further south if the garage is being watched—which is likely.
Adrenaline kicking in, I stalk over and kill the shop light and cock my head. Just after, I start to bark my orders rapidly while walking over to the door to ensure it is fully pulled to and locked. “You need to get your shoes on and your shit and come with me right now.”
Even in the blacked-out bay, I manage to catch his nod and a telling sniff before letting out a heavy exhale.
“Hustle, please,” I manage as gently as I can, knowing I might have just put this kid in direct fire. Subconsciously, I came here to pick a fight with anyone who might have snuck past our borders, knowing damn well this garage is a hot spot and neon sign for Miami.
Zach promptly kicks into his shoes, grabbing a tattered backpack at the end of the couch before stopping a good five feet from me when I lift my hand to halt him. Easing open the side door, Glock drawn, I scour the corners of the building before turning to him. “Stay right here until I come back for you,” I utter low. “Only open this fucking door if you hear four rapid knocks. If you don’t hear those knocks when you count to a hundred and twenty, call Russell, got it?”
“Got it.” His voice breaks on the words, confirming I’ve terrorized this kid within minutes of meeting him while racking my brain on who he could be and why he’s here. After clearing the building, I quickly knock and retrieve him before rushing him to the cab of my truck.
A heartbeat later, we’re shooting out of the parking lot and racing away from the garage as I continually dart my gaze between the road and my rearview. Rapidly becoming pissed at myself that I’d just so recklessly risked my well-being when I have a woman at home who needs me. Who is fighting to stay here, all the while growing more pissed at Russell, who put the kid shaking next to me in harm’s way as my need increases for his explanation.
“Jesus ... fuck,” I grit out, relief filtering in when I catch no signs of life behind us. Glancing over, I see Zach plastered to his passenger door, a pang of guilt stinging me. Pulling out my cell, I dial Russell, who doesn’t answer. Irritation growing, I manage to compose a menacing text, threat included. Russell’s not a fucking fool by any means. His every step is just as calculated as mine. So why would he leave a fucking kid so vulnerable in the garage?
“Tell me why you’re sleeping on a couch,” I prompt, keeping eagle eyes on our rearview while I press a little harder on the gas.
“D-Dom was my friend,” he utters. “You’re Tyler, r-right?”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m a little on edge and don’t normally go around pulling guns on kids. You just scared the shit out of me,” I tell him as he stares at me, eyes bugged wide. “But I’m guessing I returned the favor. I’m really sorry if I scared you, but I wasn’t expecting you... and am going to kill Russell,” I grumble.
“Please don’t,” he says, eyeing me as if I may see it through.
“Not like that, man,” I say through a chuckle I can’t help as I glance between him and the road, my anxiety easing slightly with every mile I put between us and the garage. By his uneasy disposition—even after our introduction and the look of him as he continues to white-knuckle the passenger door handle—it’s obvious he’s experienced some heavy-handed trauma. It’s everywhere on his person, which has my chest squeezing as I do my best to put us both more at ease. “So, Dom was your friend, how?”
He lowers his head as he settles slightly in my seat. “He... looked out for me a lot up until about a year ago. Then he just... disappeared. He d-didn’t answer my calls. But for a long time, as I was growing up, he would check on me even after he left for college. He used to help me when my dad would—” He falters before he speaks again. “C-can you please call Russell? I accidentally left my phone at the garage.”
Feeling his hesitance and urgent need to be in the company he trusts—which isn’t mine—I do my best to shuffle myself into that fold. “Look, I’ll admit that was a shit fucking introduction for the two of us, but I swear to God, I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Things are pretty tense right now.”
“I know about Miami,” Zach relays as my body draws tight.
“Youwhat?” I utter in disbelief as my cell phone buzzes. “Hold up, okay?”
Zach nods as I answer Russell’s call without speaking a word while sliding to a stop under the cover of some trees clustered on the roadside. Quickly circling the truck to the passenger door to stand guard, when I’m confident enough we’re as safe as we can be for the moment, I finally lift the phone with a—“You want to explain to me why the fuck you left a ten-year-old kid in a hot spot for Miami?”
“I know I fucked up,” Russell replies instantly, “but I’ve got your twenty, and I’m coming straight to you... and he’s not ten. He just turnedthirteen.”
“What? Not this kid, he’s ...” I trail off, glancing toward the truck.
“Yeah, man,” Russell sounds, “he’s thirteen.”
“Explain,” I snap.
“Dom kind of took him in, took care of him since he was young. His dad is this piece of shit who used him as a punching bag. Dom would buy him clothes and shoes, you know how he is...was,” Russell corrects, his verbiage stinging us both as a short silence ensues. “When Zach popped up at Dom’s funeral after everyone left and told me that Dom said to come to him if things got bad, I made the judgment call and took him with me. I kept him at the compound at first. I finally took him home with me a few days ago, but Mom flipped shit tonight, had one of her moments. You know how she gets. Zach’s been through enough, Tyler. I don’t want him around her when she’s like that. Just after we left my house to get a hotel for the night, I got pinged by Peter. I had to think on my toes and tucked him away at the garage because I had no choice.”
“Why in the fuck didn’t you fucking call me!”
“You know why,” he counters defensively. “Everyone is dealing with so much, man, and I had a threat to take care of. I didn’t have the luxury of time, and I couldn’t fucking leave him streetside in the middle of the night. Nothing around me was open. I’ve only been gone twenty minutes,” he says in exasperation.
“Everyone okay?”
“Yeah, false alarm. Peter thought Miami was at Eddie’s.”
