Page 30 of Creature's Vengeance
My father was never the same after that. He stepped down as V.P. and retired from the club.
Before that day, his entire life revolved around his duties as V.P., his Harley, his wife and ol’ lady, and fatherhood, in thatorder. Afterward, only fatherhood seemed to matter. Even his bike took a backseat when the diagnosis came through, and the reality of muscular dystrophy entered into our lives.
I hated those memories, hated it more when they surfaced, and I couldn’t hold them back.
Pushing them from my mind, I pulled a chair close to the bed, watching over Blair. Sure, I could have left a note or asked Lark or Bianca to stay with her. But Drake, that stubborn fucker, wouldn’t allow it. He fought me hard enough that I gave in.
Funny, but he’d been silent in recent years. When I was on active duty, he thrived on the violence and chaos of battle, even when it was only simulated. I gained a reputation as a bloodthirsty, vicious killer overseas. They called me Creature for a reason. First, for becoming a monster when I made my first kill, taking the life of the man who murdered my mother in cold blood. Second, for being the most ruthless cadet in boot camp. Third, for my actions during active duty.
I saved more lives than I took, which got noticed, too. They wanted me to reenlist a second time, but I couldn’t do that to my father. I came home to help care for him, and that was where I had been for the last few years, rarely visiting Maddog in Las Vegas. He stayed in another stint after me, though, so he hadn’t been a Marine veteran for long.
So you understand. Mateo has to die.
The voice in my head didn’t belong to me alone. I knew after my ride into the desert that something had shifted. I felt a presence. A shadow of a monster that seemed to merge with Drake. They were part of me, yet still a separate entity.
Strange.
Blair’s arm flopped to the side as she rolled onto her back. I gently lifted her wrist, frowning when I noticed the raised, puffy scar. I didn’t see it before now. The hospital wristband concealedit. My thumb brushed over her skin, wondering what happened to make her want to take her own life.
My heart ached for her as I sucked in a breath. This changed everything.
Chapter 9 Blair
Iawakened slowly, sitting up as the absolute silence in the room unnerved me, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. How long had I been out?
It was still dark. I could tell from the gap in the curtains that hung over rectangular panes, allowing the twinkle of numerous stars to peep through the opening. I slid from the bed and slowly stood, testing my balance before I tried to walk. The dizziness from earlier was gone. I felt sore, and everything still ached, but I could move without difficulty.
When I reached the window, I pulled back the drapes, wondering how I had ended up in what appeared to be an old casino. Creature wasn’t in the room. I didn’t expect him to stay while I slept, but it still surprised me to wake up alone.
From what I had learned about him so far, I didn’t think it would be long before he checked on me.
A single wall lamp lit the room on the lowest setting, providing enough illumination to see the bathroom door ajar. I entered and flipped on the light, wincing as it temporarily blinded me. When I could easily open my eyes and they adjusted, I stared at my reflection.
Yikes.
Dried blood had crusted to my lip, where the split opened the skin, and the healing wound had reopened in my sleep. I had a tendency to grind my teeth and smash my face into my pillow. Funny, but alsonotfunny. My pale face was bruised in several places in colors of purple, red, and yellow. My left eye had reduced in swelling but had turned a mottled red, bloodshot from the hit I’d taken. I had to take careful breaths because of my sore ribs and the tender skin.
It was my hair that bothered me the most. I spent a lot of time styling and curling it, using expensive products to keep the strands shiny, healthy, and soft. It looked like a rat’s nest on my head right now. My breath was so bad I thought I’d pass out when I brought my palm up and breathed into it.
Nope. I couldn’t let Creature see me like this again.
I began rummaging around in the drawers below the sink, looking for a brush, toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash. There was a new comb in a package with wide teeth, an old toothbrush I wouldn’t dare touch, a tube of toothpaste with a clean cap, and sealed mini bottles of mouthwash. Not bad.
I used my finger to brush my teeth—gross but oddly effective. When I rinsed with the mouthwash, I felt much better with a clean mouth. It took a long time to comb through the snarls in my hair, and I grew lightheaded, sitting on the closed toilet to finish the job. Once done, I dared another glance in the mirror.
Wow, I looked human again.
The hospital gown had to go though.
I walked back into the room, noticing the stack of clothes I had missed earlier. Someone was thoughtful and placed a change of clothes for me on top of one of the dressers. I pulled my bra out of the bag that Phyllis had given me with my belongings. I would need to wash it, but it didn’t stink. In the stack of clothes left for me, I found a package of bikini underwear.
It was crazy how something so insignificant could feel so huge at the right moment. Clean underwear. I could hug the person who provided it for me.
I ended up wearing black leggings, soft white socks, and a long black tee with a skull and the name of a metal band I didn’t know on the front that covered my bottom and ended mid-thigh. I had no clue where my shoes had gone since they weren’t in the bag. I still consider myself lucky to have these items. It was a hellof a boost for my self-esteem to feel clean and dressed. I was glad I had taken the time to shower in the morning before Creature visited me.
My stomach rumbled as I headed for the door, catching the tray that sat on the nightstand. The soup someone had provided was cold, but I found Tylenol and downed a bottle of water. I could heat the soup later, but I needed food. My stomach was trying to eat itself with all the growling.
I opened the door and entered a long hall. The floor looked dusty, old, and in desperate need of polish. The cream-colored walls were barren and populated with golden fleur de lis. Ghostly frames outlined in dirt could be seen on both sides of the hall as if dozens of pictures had been recently removed. Sconces lit the way to the stairs with amber-colored bulbs, which were too low to give adequate lighting but kept me from stumbling or bumping the walls.
