Page 13 of Tormented

FIVE

Sawyer

“Why’s she still here?”

King regards my question, swirling his whiskey in his tumbler. “Why not?”

“She’s legal age now, right?” I say. “You’re not blind; you can see what trouble she’ll cause if she’s kept off-limits.”

“What do you propose? I make it open season for those fuckers out there?”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’,” I level. “But seriously, brother. Take a look at the woman. She’s got a fit little body she keeps nice and tight, a round butt that’s askin’ for a whippin’, and a fuckin’ face that could launch a thousand ships. She puts half them centerfolds Fingers has stuck up in the garage to shame.”

“I wouldn’t know,” King grinds out, “because I don’t look at her like that.”

“Any man with blood in his veins can see it, whether he wants a piece or not. She’s goin’ to cause problems if you keep her here.”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” he states. “Just like we have with you. Abbey’s family. Would you kick your family out because you couldn’t trust the people who were guests in your home?”

Fair point.

“Still think you’re setting yourself up for trouble, is all.”

Only if you’re around . . . .

King places his tumbler down and swivels in the chair to lean his elbows on the desk. “What’s it to you anyway?”

Yes . . . do tell . . . .

“Just pointin’ out issues where I see ’em.”

“Bullshit. You got a thing for her? You goin’ to be the trouble you’re talkin’ about?”

“No.”

Yes.

“Then let it go.” He studies me a moment from the corner of his eye, taking a mouthful of drink. “What else is the problem?”

My fingers walk a path up and down the side of my boot propped on the opposite knee. “I can’t trust a few of the guys not to take tonight as an opportunity for revenge.”

He nods, seeming to think it over. “I’ll talk to them.”

“You think that’ll be enough?”

He shrugs. “I hope so, but I can see why you’re worried.”

“You traded me back to the old man knowin’ it might have meant death for me.”

“Yeah, we did. But we also traded you back knowing that whatever fate had in store for you would be fair punishment. And apparently, fate smiles down on you.”

I chuckle, fingering the arm of my chair. “You believe that hocus-pocus shit?”

“Had too many unexplained close calls to think otherwise.”

Maybe he’s right? Maybe I do have a guardian angel? Only one person I could think of who’d care enough to see me saved.

She proved that . . . .