Chapter Twenty-nine

ELLIS

A fter Hicks calls to tell me Rue was released, he disappears, leaving me to pick up the pieces once again. I drop James off with his brother, then I detour to the mall and pick up the waiting jewelry order before I stop by the electronics store to buy a new phone for Rue.

Instead of activating it under her account, I activate it under mine, then I hook up her dead phone, which I scooped up out of the pond, and transfer her data. While the phone is dead, the data isn't lost.

Data is never lost—a person just has to know where to look for it.

Once that's done, I race back to the others, the need to check on Rue like a sharp edge of a blade pressing against my neck. While Hicks might be the leader of the group, Gunner is the protector, the twins are the caretakers, and I'm their minder.

That means it's up to me to keep track of them and their shit and remind them of appointments and jobs, even to eat when they get caught up on projects.

If they need something, they come to me.

After years on the job, I'm good at anticipating their wants.

That doesn't mean it isn't frustrating as shit to basically be forced to act like their damn mother. Most of the time, I don't mind, but right now, I very much fucking mind. I'm worried about Rue, worried that the guys will fuck things up more without me to rein them back.

As I pull into the driveway, my eyes immediately lock on the house next door.

Sure as shit, the guys have Rue fucking cornered.

Throwing the door open, I grab the bags before storming across the yard toward them, hoping I get there in time to head off the coming disaster. When I'm close enough to hear James' words, I know I'm too fucking late. The bags crinkle in my hands as I crush them in my grip, and I straighten my glasses to prevent myself from ripping my hair out in frustration.

"Don't answer that," I snap, glaring at the idiots as I bound up the stairs, forcing myself between the guys and Rue. I'm not sure if I'm glad I have the bags in my hands to keep myself from punching the assholes or annoyed that I can't bash the idiots over the head. "You can't just demand answers because you want them."

Just when James stalks toward me with a snarl of both annoyance and pissed off anger, Gunner pushes himself between us.

"That's not what we were doing," the big man protests, then he looks at the twins with a pointed look. "We would never demand Rue share anything before she's ready."

He turns toward Rue, ignoring me completely, his expression softening. "We're just worried about you. That's all."

"If you're so worried, why haven't you allowed her inside the house and tended to her wounds?" I've never been so disgusted with the guys in my life. When they look properly cowed, I turn toward Rue, and my expression softens. "I'm sorry that?—"

"Don't do that," Rue interrupts, a furrow between her eyebrows. "You're their friend, not their nursemaid. Let them make their own mistakes."

She doesn't look upset, but she's clearly not happy with me, and my gut churns with a caustic mixture of dread and annoyance.

Honestly, I'm speechless, unsure if she's defending them or me.

No one ever bothers to thank me for the things I do for them. I don't expect it, but it's been a long time since any of the fuckers showed any appreciation either.

"Ellis is right," Jace says, dragging me out of my tendency to overthink everything, and he rakes a hand through his hair in a violent move that shows his frustration. "We ambushed you, more worried about ourselves than you."

The three of them at least have the decency to look ashamed.

Instead of backing down, Rue narrows her eyes on the boys like they are toddlers to be chastised. "Then do better. Ellis shouldn't have to be your conscience, telling you right from wrong. You're grown-ass men. He's so busy looking after you that I wonder who's left to look after him."

Warmth fills my chest, and my irritation at the guys melts away. "It's okay. I don't mind…most of the time."

And I don't.

I usually enjoy keeping tabs on everyone and keeping them out of trouble.

It's different with Rue.

They need to do better.

Be better.

None of us are worthy of her.

That doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to let her go.

She's ours.

She's stuck with us now.

"Why don't we go inside and clean you up?" I offer gently and nudge her toward the door. I don't want to give her a chance to go inside without one of us, my need to take care of her superseding everything else, and I grit my teeth against the need to drag her into the house, wash away the blood, and inspect her injuries myself. I need to make sure she's okay.

She glances at each of us in turn, her teal eyes judging our worth, and I watch as, one by one, we each straighten to attention. With a heavy sigh, she pushes the tangled mess of her hair away from her face, then she turns toward the door.

"You all might as well come into the house. After today, the least I owe you is an explanation." She moves to grab her keys, only to come up empty.

"Here, let me get that." I dig her keys out of my pocket, gently nudge her aside, and open the door.

When she casts me a confused look, I shrug sheepishly. "I fished them out of the lake with your wallet and phone."

She closes her eyes and her shoulders droop, her words barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

Her movements are slow and stiff, and I grip the bags in my hands tighter to resist the urge to scoop her up in my arms. The only thing stopping me is my fear of hurting her more. I open my mouth to offer her help when she turns toward us. "Why don't you make yourself at home? I really need a shower. I'll be quick, then I'll join you and explain everything."

The guys, as one, all take a seat around the table, none of them willing to risk getting kicked out. When Rue leaves the kitchen, I follow her, needing to make sure she makes it to her room.

Once she enters the bathroom, I deposit the bags on the bed, then I linger like a creep, unable to make myself leave when she's just a door away. One by one, the others join me, and we each watch the door almost obsessively.

Jameson wanders around the room, then he takes a seat near the window. Jaceson leans against the wall near the dresser, giving himself a clear view of the room and bathroom door. Gunner hovers out in the hall, almost like he's nervous to enter her room without permission. Seated at the edge of the bed, I lean forward, my forearms on my knees, and wait.

"Should we order food?" Jameson asks, glancing at each of us. "Do you think pookie is hungry?"

He jumps to his feet, ready to charge into the kitchen to find something for her. "James."

He skids to a stop, nearly toppling over in his rush. "But?—"

"She needs rest. She doesn't need to find a mess in her kitchen." I give him a pointed look, ignoring the way his eyes narrow. "Order something online and have it delivered."

That has his expression brightening. He gropes for his phone, then retakes his spot by the window as he fiddles with it, and I'm not surprised his device escaped the water. The little shit is lucky like that. He's so intent on his task that I have no doubt we'll have enough food to feed fifty people in less than an hour.

James doesn't do anything by halves.

To him, bigger is always better.

The shower shuts off, and each of us straightens, automatically turning toward the door. Five minutes pass, then ten, and I scowl with worry.

"Too much time has passed," Gunner mutters, crossing his arms as he glares at the door blocking his access to Rue.

I completely agree.

Worried she might be lying on the floor, I cross the bedroom with large strides, and the others follow suit. Just as I lift my hand to knock on the door, it swings open, leaving me staring at an adorably ruffled Rue.

Her pink hair rests in loose spirals around her head, the strands haphazardly pulled back from her face with a headband, the style accentuating the soft angles of her gorgeous face. She's wearing an oversized sweater that reaches her knees, the edges of her boxers barely peeking out from the bottom. Fluffy socks are pulled up to her knees, looking soft as a cloud.

Drowning in the comfy clothing, she looks incredibly young.

Without makeup, her face is a little too pale, her eyes are a little too big, and her bruises are more vicious than ever.

Fury heats my blood, and I'm forced to take a few deep breaths before I explode in rage.

Rue doesn't need that right now.

All my thoughts stop dead, and my gaze zeroes in on the neat little stitches along her hairline. My insides feel like they are being carved out, knowing she did it herself while we were just fucking sitting in her room with our thumbs up our asses.

Fuck!

"Rue…" I reach for her, but she pulls back and turns her face away.

"It's fine," she mutters, then she shrugs like it's no big fucking deal, never looking away from me. "I've been patching myself up since I was old enough to see in the mirror. I've become quite proficient at it over the years."

I swallow hard, and it does nothing to alleviate the nausea rolling over me. Gunner swears to my left, an almost inaudible snarl ripping from him. Stillness radiates from the twins, and I know her confession is fucking with their heads.

She shifts on her feet, then winces, and I immediately feel like an ass. I step back, bumping into the guys since we are all crowded into the hall like fucking sardines in a can. "Why don't we take this discussion where you can be more comfortable?"

With a grateful nod, she steps out of the bathroom, then pauses at the top of the stairs, as if she is contemplating how to get down with the least amount of pain. Before she can take a step, Jace elbows his way forward, stopping only when he's nearly plastered against her back.

"When I lift you in my arms, don't startle or try to wiggle away. Just relax and let me do the work." He doesn't give her a chance to protest, just bends and scoops her up.

She tenses for a heartbeat, then melts against him, and I curse myself for not being brave enough to step forward to do that.

I didn't want to hurt her and held my tongue.

Instead of heading downstairs, he turns toward her bedroom. Trailing after them, I scowl when he doesn't simply deposit her on the bed, but takes the spot with her still in his lap, then leans back against the wall. I open my mouth to protest, then snap it shut when she sighs and cuddles into him, her head resting trustingly on his shoulders.

While the mother hen in me wants to tell them that she needs rest, I don't have the heart to argue. I'm not even sure I could make myself leave the room, much less them.

Jace bows his head down to fuss over her, and I have to admit they make a stunning couple. A hollow spot opens in my chest at the thought, and I ruthlessly push it away to examine later. She doesn't need more bullshit from us right now.

James doesn't hesitate to crawl into bed with them. With a little wiggling, he captures her legs and drags them over his lap. I tense, ready to yank him away if he disturbs her. Women love James because he can immediately put them at ease and make them laugh and forget about their troubles for a while, but sometimes he can be an ass.

You never know what you're going to get with him at any given second, much like an overeager puppy. I only relax when he seems content just to be near her. I can sympathize, struggling with my own need to bundle her up so nothing bad ever happens to her again. Unfortunately, society frowns on kidnapping people.

When Gunner enters the room, leaning against the wall by the door, Rue lifts her head. "You've each shared little bits of your past with me. You deserve the same in turn, especially after what happened today."

"It's not tit for tat," I protest, not wanting her to share anything before she's ready. She's been traumatized enough today. "If you're not ready?—"

"You deserve an explanation," she says, her voice growing firm. She sighs, her shoulders wilting slightly, and her gaze drops to her lap, where she starts picking at her nails. "I mentioned some of it to you guys already, but I'll start at the beginning."

Blowing out a heavy breath, she rolls her shoulders and clears her throat. "My mother ran away and married my father when she turned sixteen. He was rich, and she was spoiled. It was a match made in hell, but surprisingly enough, they loved each other fiercely. Unfortunately, my mother wasn't exactly stable at the best of times.

"When I was born, her…condition…got worse. It was hate at first sight, and I was immediately handed over to the staff to be raised." When Gunner growls in protest, she smiles ruefully. "Believe me, it was a small blessing."

She purses her lips, her eyes losing focus as she becomes lost in the memories. "What I didn't know until much later is that her condition was passed through the women of our family. You've met Nan, right?"

She looks at each of us, and we nod. "Have any of you ever had your cards read by her?"

This time, we each shake our heads, looking at each other curiously.

"She does séances?" James says, his face scrunched up in question.

"No, she's more of a fortune teller. She can read tarot cards, even just a regular deck of playing cards, palm reading, that type of thing." Rue watches each of us closely, but none of us react as we wait for her to continue. "Each woman in our family has a different ability."

Again, she pauses as if her revelation would shock us. Unsure how to react, I keep my mouth shut. Gunner seems enthralled, a little furrow between his brows as he listens. James is hanging on her every word, but that means nothing. Curiously enough, Jace has lowered his head, his eyes closed, almost like he knows something.

"My mother denied the family heritage, refusing to be trained in the family hocus-pocus bullshit, as she calls it, but she had the uncanny ability to ferret out secrets. I think that's one of the reasons my father found her so enticing. His business took off with her help. Maybe he was never a good man, but marriage to my mother twisted him into something dark." Her face scrunches up in disgust, and she shakes her head.

"When she became pregnant, the family curse hit her hard. She started acting erratic, calling me the spawn of Satan. She demanded an abortion, but the doctors said she was too far along for it not to risk her health." Gunner mutters a stream of swear words under his breath, practically vibrating in rage, but Rue is too lost in her story and doesn't notice. "They gave her medication but nothing helped. I think the combination burned out her brain."

A beat of silence follows, and Rue looks down at her nails like they are the most fascinating things in the world. Before she can pick at them, James pulls a fucking bottle of bright red nail polish out of his ass, opens the bottle, then wiggles his fingers at her in a silent demand.

She blinks at him in surprise, then gives him her hand without protest. After the paint on the first nail is expertly applied, she relaxes. "I did my best to stay away from my parents, but she was convinced I would be the death of her. She did everything she could to beat me into submission. She tormented me day and night, punishing and berating me every chance she got.

"Between the pills and her hatred, I actually believe she drove herself crazy and burned out her brain." She snorts, as if the story is amusing, her smile grim when she looks up at us. "In the end, she was right. She ended up taking so many pills that she accidentally killed herself."

I don't know what to say because I'm not fucking sorry the bitch is dead.

"I thought things would get better, but Father blamed me for her death. For the first time since I was born, he paid attention to me." She shudders, her face closing down. "That's when he discovered the family curse passed to me. He began using me for his business deals like he used my mother, but when I refused or got things wrong, I was punished.

"When I was maybe five or six, a teacher noticed the bruises. She reported it and was promptly fired. Soon after, I was yanked from school." Though her expression doesn't change, her eyes darken to the color of a storm tossed sea. "An official report was written, saying I was lying for attention and hurting myself. It's the perfect reason to keep me locked away, right?"

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Dear old dad would periodically bring doctors over and pay them a small fortune, and my file continued to grow—proof that I was unstable and needed constant supervision." A snarl of disgust curls her lips.

James pauses in his painting, and I know he's struggling to remain in control. He gently rests her hand in her lap and snatches up the other one to start the process all over.

"I managed to find Nan through a lawyer, and she broke me out of jail." Tension eases out of her shoulders, and she leans into Jace like the story exhausted her.

James lifts his head from painting her nails, inspects her fingers for blemishes, then recaps the polish. When he peers up at her, his expression is contemplative. "So you see what's going to happen, like your nan and mom?"

Things click in my brain, and my gut sinks like I ingested poison. While Nan is a bit kooky and eccentric, no one has the ability to see the future. It's all about watching micro expressions and body language.

I don't even realize that I'm speaking until Rue agrees with me. "You're right—I can't see the future."

She looks around the room, then spies her tablet on the table next to the bed. Before she can reach for it, Jace grabs it and hands it over. She flips it open and clutches the attached pen. I startle a little when she touches something on the screen and the TV next to Gunner sparks to life.

I watch as she begins sketching, the image on her tablet mirroring up on the bigger screen. Line by line, a scene takes shape. A man stands in front of the TV with his shirt off, and I can't take my gaze away when recognition strikes—Gunner.

The strong lines of his shoulders are more defined, his waist tapered, and his muscles are drawn in such sharp detail that they almost seem to ripple across his back. Then, his new tattoo takes shape. She zooms in on the screen, filling out the drawing with such skill that I can only gape in awe, each stroke swift and firm.

No one speaks as she sketches the image. She begins drawing the blank TV screen next. Gunner has his palm pressed to the screen in the drawing, and it isn't long before an image of a young girl takes shape, and I become lightheaded.

Maggie.

Each detail is painstakingly etched until she comes alive through the screen, and my eyes widen when Gunner stands in front of the TV—just like she drew—and presses his hand against the screen, right where Maggie has her own hand pressed.

Maggie is slightly older, her eyes taking on a golden glow. She stares at Gunner with so much love that my eyes burn.

The room is absolutely silent when Rue slowly lowers her tablet, her voice barely a whisper when she speaks. "I knew Gunner was in trouble the other day because Maggie told me. She couldn't tell me where or when, but she said he would die without help."

"That's impossible." I pivot to look at her, unsure if this is some sort of cruel trick or if she honestly believes she can see the dead. I examine every moment I spent with her, searching for some sort of explanation, but no matter how I try to work it out, my brain refuses to process the information.

There is no logical way she could have predicted what happened today.

She must have picked something up from the woman or her kids, right?

Same with what happened with the kid in the grocery store. She must have unconsciously seen the kid walk into the freezer, but didn't register a problem until later when the kid didn't reemerge.

But what about the uncanny drawing of Maggie? The only explanation is she must have seen a photo somewhere, maybe looked it up online or something.

I just don't understand why she would do such a thing.

Rue shrugs her shoulder, closes her tablet with a precise movement, and gently sets it aside, the TV going dark with the action. "No two women in my family have the same curse. My malediction, as dear old dad calls it, appeared when I was young. I started talking to nothing but thin air or would play with a pet cat that died years ago. I learned quickly to keep it quiet. It would send Mother into a rage.

"But sometimes, when the dead visit, they are…" She looks at the ceiling as if searching for the right word. "Corrupted. They aren't meant to survive in our realm. The longer they remain, the more they lose their humanity. It's…not pleasant."

She takes a shuddering breath, then peers at Gunner's back with a concerned expression, but the big man continues to stare at the blank screen, his posture so rigid, I'm afraid he might shatter.

Rue leans forward, grabbing one of the bags I dropped on the bed earlier. She pulls the jewelry boxes out, then offers one to Jace, waiting expectantly.

Jace stares at the box for a moment. When he makes no move to take it, she pops it open to reveal a simple but elegant ring with detailed engravings. She pulls it out, then slips it over his thumb. "My abilities are spilling over into your world. These will help keep you safe."

She opens another ring box. Before she can even turn toward James, he's already holding his hand out. The ring slips easily over his thumb, and he holds it to his chest. "I'll never take it off."

I startle when she turns toward me and holds out a thin, narrow box. I don't move as she flips it open to reveal a stunning bracelet, something I would pick for myself. I don't even realize I'm reaching for it until cool metal touches my fingertips.

"Rue…" I trail off, unsure what to say, my heart breaking when I realize she truly believes her own lies.

She winks at me, her smile a little lopsided. "Humor the crazy girl, okay? Wear it for me?"

I find myself nodding, possessive of the bracelet she picked out for me. As the heavy weight settles around my wrist, my resolve firms. Crazy or not, she's mine. As long as her fantasy isn't hurting anyone, I don't give a fuck.