Chapter 8

Michael

Since I don't currently have a job and I can't get my mind off of April, I decide that we're not finished yet. Dropping her off at her apartment was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, but she'd been adamant, almost panicked about getting back there.

I didn't understand it then, but now I do.

Waking up the next morning, free of my position as head of security at The Black Door, but nowhere near free from the thing that got me fired; I did a little sleuthing.

Some might call it stalking, but I called it curiosity. Active 1: Never mind that when I saw April coming out of her apartment building that morning, all I wanted to do was run over and sweep her into my arms. Press her against my body where she belonged. Then a much younger girl followed her out of the building. She looked like a mini version of April, maybe eleven or twelve years old.

With their heads down the whole way, it was easy to follow them the couple blocks to the middle school where April hugged her goodbye, then turned and scurried back to her building. Her little sister. April didn't want to leave her with that monster they had to call an uncle. I followed them every day for a week, looking for a reason. A new bruise, because I didn't buy her story about falling down the stairs for one second.

I stay hidden while hoping she'll sense my presence and demand to know why I'm watching her.

But despite April looking more defeated and tired by the day, it's been a week and nothing's shown up. She never looks left or right, just keeps her head down and drags herself home after dropping off her sister. Now I'm sitting in my own tiny apartment, at the crack of dawn, sipping my black coffee before heading out to follow them on their trek to the school. Then I plan to stake out April's place in case she needs me.

I'm convinced I need to do something, but what? I see my little hole in the wall with fresh eyes. The kitchen, living area, and my bedroom are basically the same room, divided by the kitchen counter and the couch that turns into a bed. There's another room that anyone who lives in the middle of the country would call a walk-in closet at best, that I've turned into a makeshift office. It barely fit the desk and chair I shoved in there. The single bathroom is even smaller than that.

I try to imagine bringing April and her sister here, but there just isn't space. Considering the apartment further, I dismantle the desk and haul out my old camping gear. The inflatable mattress fits from one wall to the next with no room at the head or foot, and there's about fourteen inches of free space on the side.

"Perfect room for any little kid," I say out loud, my voice more bitter than the coffee.

It's time to oversee the walk to school and I leave with an angry, helpless feeling that's suffocating. It's made worse when April seems more crushed than usual, with dark circles ringing her eyes and her delicate face looking almost gaunt. I squeeze the steering wheel until my knuckles are white, hating watching her spirit fade away.

This is my girl. I have to do something. I'm pissed as fuck at myself for waiting so long. With the decision made, I only have to wait for her to collect her sister at school. I'll meet her there where she'll feel safer, away from her uncle.

As I'm planning, the door to her building swings open and the uncle bursts out, his mean face twisted up in a snarl. It's rare he leaves and the idea of just removing him from the equation all together is powerful.

But I'm not a criminal, not a hitman, and April would probably despise me. The next thing I know, she's being pulled out of the building by the man whose head I was just fantasizing about tearing off. April looks more upset than the night of the auction, the fear on her pretty face turning to a look of pain as he jerks her down the steps to the sidewalk. Seeing his rough hands on her, along with her fright, makes the urge to destroy him almost too powerful to resist.

What has this woman done to me? She seems to have changed my very essence so that all I can focus on is her. Her safety, her happiness, her comfort.

The uncle hails a passing cab, and I shift into gear to follow. What's going on in the middle of the afternoon? The taxi continues out of the city to end up at a seedy roadside motel. A group of even seedier men are milling around at the end of the long, squat cement building, eyeing each other up as if they might start fighting at any minute. I pull in behind the taxi, and as soon as the uncle pulls her out, the men all light up and get animated. The uncle gets a firm grip on both her arms and motions toward one room. His behavior excites the men further and they begin to jostle each other, pushing to be the first through the door.

Oh, hell no. He can't possibly be trying to put on an auction of his own, can he?

It looks like that's exactly what he thinks he's doing, and April struggles as he pushes her toward the room; while the hyenas practically bounce with excitement while they wait for it to be opened.

Hell no.

I jump out of the car and my feet barely touch the ground as I cover the space between us. April's eyes widen when she recognizes me, but I can't give my attention to her just yet. The stupid man who thinks he's going to sell my woman must think I'm here for the auction, so he isn't prepared for the hard punch I give him straight between his eyes.

I feel the crunch of his nose and blood sprays outward as he crumples, his grip on April nearly bringing her down with him. I grab her and pull her close, hustling her behind me while I face down the other men.

"Who's next?" I ask, leaning toward the closest one with my bloody fist raised at his face.

"We don't want any problems," he says, arms raised like I'm a cop.

I back April toward my car, staring down the others, but he seems to speak for all of them as they slink away back to whatever pit they came from. At the passenger door, April is frozen with shock, so I pick her up and gently place her in.

As I zoom away, I look over at her to see her staring straight ahead, her jaw clenched as hard as her hands on her seatbelt. I reach over and help her lock it in place and she turns to me, hazel eyes wide in her pale face.

"What did you do? He's going to—"

I shake my head sharply. "He's not going to do shit, April. You're done with him."

"You don't understand," she wails, trying to act angry through her clear relief at not having to go into that motel room.

I can read her like a book and she's also scared half to death of what comes next, falling into a confused silence until I pull up in front of her sister's school.

"Go check her out early," I say. "Then we'll go back to your apartment and you can get whatever you need."

For the first time, her stiff face relaxes and there's a glimmer of hope in her eyes that shatters my heart. She reaches for the car door. "Then what?" she asks shakily.

I reach over and brush a strand of her glossy hair behind her shoulder, tracing the line of her jaw as I smile.

"Then you're coming home with me. Both of you."