Heathens & Hand Grenades (Book 1 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 11- Riggs

This was a bad fucking idea. Taking a hostage has never been our MO. Kace was right. Four in four out. But fuck all if I'm gonna be the one to tell the grumbling asshole that.

My fingers tangle in my hair as I run my fingers through it again. It's getting too long, well past time for a cut. I'll have to ask Jax to trim it down later. He's better at it than the rest of us. D would have his down to his waist if we let him, but can't risk having it fall out of his hat. Kace just buzzes it all down, can't be bothered to do it. Jaxson only got good at it, because, his words "how hard is it to understand three- and three-quarter inches up top and an inch and a quarter on the sides." Mother fucker got tired of bringing his own tape measure and we were tired of him scaring the barbers or being threatened with bodily harm. Never would've allowed it to happen, but we didn't need the heat.

The strums of Kace's guitar drift through the space and allow me to relax at least a bit. It's familiar, but hard to tell exactly what he's playing though the walls. Either the way, the sound lulls me into the closest semblance of peace I get nowadays. Silence would've caused real worry.

I cough. All this talking has been irritating my throat something fierce. Leaving the girl with Dario seems like the safest bet, though Jax has been hovering. He mostly seems to just be observing so nothing I really need to worry about. Last thing any of us need is for her to become his new obsession.

D's worried look tells me more than anything. I sound like trash. My vocal cords are strained from use and I'm talking way more than usual, trying way more than usual because there's someone else to consider. Feeling watched again; it's off putting but nothing I'm not used to. Uncomfortable is how I live life now.

I'll just gargle some salt water and rest. Exhausted doesn't even begin to cover it. Bringing Calista back with us was impulsive, but my instincts were screaming at me. The tears were nothing. Women cry all the time and I've never been moved to action. No, it was the quiet resignation. The way her shoulders slumped, run down and bone-weary while her back tensed. She was prepared for a fight she knew she'd lose. I knew that feeling too well and I hated seeing it on another human being.

You don't become like that from one incident. I'd caught her flinch at Kace's tone when he stormed off earlier. So had he; which knowing him just exacerbated the problem. He'd never hurt a woman, but he was a huge bastard and she didn't know us from Adam. Once he cooled down, he'd understand too.

As familiar as the plucking of guitar strings, so is the broken look on Calista's face. It's the same one that stares back at me in the middle of the night when sleep is elusive and fraught with memories I'd rather forget. And it's the exact reason why I could never have left her alone.