Page 16 of The Souls We Claim
The trip to Dad’s place feels a heap more familial than I want or am used to. First, I collect Lola from King, who is letting her play with the end of his empty beer bottle. Wouldn’t have been my first health and safety choice. Then I load Arianne and Lola into my truck. A club tow truck follows us to Arianne’s car, and we grab her luggage from the trunk. There isn’t much, but I’ve got a feeling some of Mercy’s things will fit her.
“Nice family,” Switch teases as he hoists her car onto the tow truck.
I flip him the bird.
When I pull up onto the drive, Arianne is dozing, and Lola is utterly passed out asleep. Dad lived down a long track, so I crank the windows open a little and leave Lola asleep.
Gently, I give Arianne a shake. “Arianne, sweetheart. Wake up.”
Her eyes flicker open, and she stretches her arms above her head.
Do I check out her tits? Yes. Because I’m a human being. But I try not to letch.
“Hey, we’re here. Might seem a little isolated, but Clutch will work on your car tomorrow to get you mobile. Or you can see if you can find the keys to Mercy’s car.” I tip my head toward the garage.
She looks around and then gets out of the car, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. “I’m not used to living in the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s safe enough.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “Wasn’t safe for your dad or my sister.”
Fair. She has a point. I jog up the steps and use my key to unlock it like I have a million times. “I grew up here. You’ll be fine.”
But even as I step across the threshold, I get the same feeling of unease. For whatever reason, they missed Lola last time. But what if they come back? What if they come for Lola? Or Arianne?
The musty smell hits me immediately. Dad’s house has been closed up for eleven days. After it was no longer considered a crime scene, I came to check on the place once.
Fuck me.
There are still bloodstains in the kitchen. I need to get a couple of prospects over here to clean the place up.
“Oh, shit.” I hear Arianne gasp, and I turn to find she’s followed me in. A sob escapes her as she presses her hand to her mouth.
Without thinking, I grab her to me, pulling her to my chest, turning her away from the stark reminder of death. Her body shakes as she cries, tears dampening my T-shirt.
I press a palm to the back of her head, fisting my hand into her hair, holding her tightly.
“Fuck this,” I mutter and lead her out of the house.
“Where are…we going?”
“Someplace else.”
6
ARIANNE
Halo’s home is neat as a pin except for three areas.
The first is a corner of the living room, where an overflowing chest of toys dominates the decor. The second is the kitchen, where stacks of little cups and cutlery for little hands sit in a pile. And the third is the bathroom, where little ducks and colorful containers line the side of the tub.
This is clearly a man’s house with a little interloper.
There are no photographs on the walls. No pretty cushions on the sofa. No plants that make a place feel alive.
Except for Lola’s things, it barely looks lived in.
We’d just gotten through the door when Halo got a call that he had to go. He pointed out the basics, asked me to look after Lola, and disappeared.
