Page 133 of Tormented
You going to let her boss you around like that . . .?
Yeah, I am, asshole. “Fine. But I don’t want to hear about this again, right?”
“Build a bridge, pretty boy.” Using her thumb, she taps out a number and brings the device to her ear. “Hey . . . Yeah, we’re good . . . I need a favor.”
Forty minutes later and Grace is awake as Fingers pulls up in the truck to our meeting spot, six blocks over. She wriggles back into my chest as the old man steps out and rounds the hood.
Careful . . . you’re going soft . . . .
Fuck off.
“What have you two troublemakers got yourselves into?” Fingers asks as he warily eyes Grace.
“Evan,” I answer simply.
The old mechanic’s eyes soften and he drops his shoulders with a resigned sigh. He knows who Evan is. Both to me, and to Abbey.
“You sort him out, then?”
“Yeah, he did,” Abbey answers, giving me a soft smile as she answers.
Fingers grunts in acceptance, and then steps toward Grace. The girl stiffens in my hold as he shoves a hand into his pocket and then brings a closed fist out to her.
“Hold your hands out, love.”
She twists her neck to look up at me. I nod, giving her knee a pat. Cupping her hands together, she tentatively holds them out to Fingers, who looks on like a doting grandfather. He releases his grasp, dropping something small and metal into her clutches.
“What is it?” Abbey asks, stepping closer to look.
Grace turns the trinket over, and then slowly holds it out for Abbey to see. Using old nuts and washers, Fingers has soldered together a doll figurine, complete with a carefully cut outline of brass-colored hair.
“I was playin’ around with makin’ some trinkets out of scrap to sell for a little extra, but I figured this wee one might need it more.”
Grace whispers something none of us catch, head bowed as she looks over the metal doll.
“Pardon?” Fingers asks.
“Thank you,” she whispers again. “It’s real pretty.”
Bunch of soft-cocks . . . .
I slam a hand into my temple and shift Grace to her feet. She reaches out for Abbey’s hand and walks side by side with my girl to the truck. Fingers turns to stand beside me, and we both watch in silence as Abbey helps Grace into the cab.
“You got any idea what you’re in for with that one?” Fingers murmurs beside me.
“We’re takin’ her home,” I answer.
“Not the kid.” He shakes his head. “Abbey. She’s come a long way,” he says. “But don’t let that fool you any. She’s still as fragile as the day Apex first propped her up on a stool and slid a glass of milk and a cookie under her sweet little chin.”
“She held it together well.”
“Maybe. But you keep an eye on that girl. She won’t let you know if it bothered her until a week later when she can’t hold it in no more.”
I glance over at Abbey, a little uneasy at the fact I kept a secret from her that was bigger than anything she might harbor. “I never said thanks for passin’ what you knew about her on to King. It helped me connect the dots, get the validation I needed that it was the same asshole.”
He shrugs. “If it were you askin’, I probably wouldn’t have told you. You did the right thing getting Pres to ask the question.”
“You think I’m still doin’ the right thing?” I ask.