Julie Walker - Born Wild

She looked like an extra in a slasher film. Scratch that, she looked that the slasher in a slasher film, because her expression was straight-up, undiluted I’m-shithouse-crazy-enough-to-kill-someone-right-now. Nostrils flaring, jaw grinding, fists clenching and unclenching, she stepped into the parking lot and started marching stiffly toward Mac.

Oh, damn.

Bill knew what was coming before the loud smack of Delilah’s open palm meeting Mac’s hard jaw echoed around the block. The former FBI agent’s head snapped back and to the side, emphasizing the strength of the blow. But no sooner had he shaken off the harsh strike than Delilah was grabbing the collar of his light-weight motorcycle jacket and screaming into his face, “How dare you bring whatever bullshit you’re involved in to my doorstep, you bastard!”

Eve pushed away from Billy’s warm, reassuring, oh-so-deliciously-solid chest—she could not believe she’d just kissed him or, considering their talk this morning, that he’d actually kissed her back—when she heard Delilah’s words explode into the noisy city air. All the blood that’d been sizzling through her veins because of Billy’s scorching kiss instantly froze into solid red rivers of ice.

No. Oh, no! Delilah couldn’t blame this on Mac. She just couldn’t. This wasn’t Mac’s fault. It was her fault. All her fault…

Without a second thought, she turned and raced toward the tussling couple. Through her tears—was she crying?—she could see Mac dragging Delilah around the corner and into the alley where he wrapped her in a reverse bear hug, seizing her from behind by securing her wrists low across her waist as he bodily lifted her from the ground until all she could do was kick ineffectually as she screamed profanities hot enough to blister the ears off a sailor.

“Delilah,” she breathed. Was that her voice? Why did it sound like that? Like it was being pushed through water. “It’s n-not Mac’s f-fault.”

But her words were too hoarse and too quiet for Delilah to hear, and before she could swallow and try again, Billy stopped a group of police officers from moving in to investigate the commotion. “Gentlemen, my friend back there doesn’t need any help. He’s man enough to handle what she’s dishing; don’t you worry.”

One of the officers eyed him skeptically, and Billy made a face. “She’s hurt and grieving,” he explained, and Eve knew all about that, didn’t she? “And she needs to take it out on someone. She’s decided to take it out on him.” He pointed his chin toward the alley where Mac and Delilah had moved out of sight. “And like I said, he’s man enough to handle it.”

The policeman nodded once before motioning for the rest of the officers to follow him to the ambulance.

The ambulance…

Eve winced when the loud thunk of its door slamming shut ricocheted around the parking lot. Holy moly, if there was ever a sound of absolute finality, then that was definitely it. Instantly, her blood thawed, rushing through her system and pooling in her head until she was dizzy.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

But she couldn’t help herself. Turning, she saw a medic hop into the passenger seat of the ambulance. A heartbeat later, the vehicle’s lights began flashing accompanied by…silence. Deafening, head-splitting, soul-shattering silence. There was no blaring siren or honking horn, just the sad rumble of a big engine turning over and the quiet crackling of tires rolling over rock-strewn pavement.

Which, dear God, was so much worse.

It emphasized the fact that this was no emergency. That the life this ambulance had raced in to rescue was beyond salvation. That the life had been cut short because somehow, in some way, she had done something to someone that was so horrible they were determined to see her dead.

This is all my fault…

Again, the sentence circled through her overwrought brain, and the shaking she thought she’d finally gotten under control returned with brutal, teeth-clacking force. The urge to scream her frustration and regret and guilt overwhelmed her. It built in her chest, burning like a jellyfish sting as it seared its way up her throat, singeing the tissue in its path until she wondered if she’d ever speak or swallow correctly again. But just before she opened her mouth to let loose with all the dark emotions bubbling and seething inside her, Billy was there, wrapping a steadying arm around her shoulders and bending to whisper in her ear.

“This isn’t your fault, sweetheart,” he crooned in his deep, smooth baritone. “The men who did this are the ones to blame. No one but them, you understand me? No one killed Buzzard but them.”

And more than his words, it was the feel of his warm breath against the side of her jaw, the smell of him, all buttery leather and strong soap, that gave her enough strength to swallow down the scream burning at the back of her throat.

Keep it together, Eve, she coached herself as she rolled in her lips, the world around her nothing but a hazy kaleidoscope of colors through her tears. She wanted to believe Billy. Oh, how she wanted to believe him. Keep it together for Delilah’s sake…

And suddenly she remembered where she’d been heading before the police and the ambulance’s departure distracted her. “We have to go help Mac,” she said.

“Like I told the police, Mac can—”

“No,” she shook her head vehemently. “Delilah thinks this is Mac’s fault.” And there was no way she could allow Mac to take the fall for something she’d done. Once upon a time she might have taken that coward’s way out. But not anymore. And if she had any say in it, never again. Eve Edens was done being a coward.

Grabbing Billy’s big hand, she stumbled across the lot and around the corner of the building to the shaded alley where a set of metal stairs led to a back door on the second story of the bar. The air smelled dank and musty, likely due to the four green trash bins pushed up against the building on the opposite side of the narrow space. Mac was standing in front of the nearest one, still holding Delilah in a reverse bear hug, and the poor bartender was still whipping around like a sea snake caught by the tail.

“And you!” she shrieked the instant she saw Billy. “You’re as much to blame! Buzzard’s dead because—”

Billy dropped Eve’s hand in order to step up to Delilah. Gently, he placed a palm on each of her red, splotchy, tear-soaked cheeks.

“No,” he told her quietly. Just that one word.

But it was that one word, spoken with absolute conviction, that had the fight abandoning Delilah. The kicking and the thrashing stopped, and she hung limp as a rag doll in Mac’s big arms, quietly sobbing.

“Delilah, I’m so sorry,” Eve whispered quietly, stepping up to the woman, nodding at Mac to lower the poor creature to the ground. And though the words were heartfelt, they sounded hollow, even to her own ears. Because nothing she could say would ever accurately convey the depth of her remorse.

A man was dead from a bullet intended for her. It was that simple. And that horrible. She knew she’d always carry the guilt of it with her.

When Mac lowered Delilah to the ground, the grief-stricken woman crumpled into Eve’s arms, and Eve choked on the sobs she could no longer hold at bay. It didn’t matter. They were women, so they clung to each other and cried together, taking strength and lending it in the way only the females of the species could do.

Then, after a time, their tears slowed, and Eve blubbered out the truth, “It’s my fault. D-don’t blame Mac and…and Billy. It has nothing to do with them. I brought this to your doorstep. Th-those men came to your bar to k-kill me.”

Delilah pushed out of her embrace, rubbing a forearm under her runny nose to blink at her blearily. “I know they did,” she nodded, wiping away her tears with a perfunctory swipe of her hand. “I h-heard what that one said when he saw you.”

There she is…The words were etched on the back of Eve’s brain with a carving knife.

“But after Bill told me he was leaving you in my care, I just…” Delilah shrugged miserably. “I just figured it must have something t-to do with whatever shady dealings they’re involved in out on Goose Island and—”

“We’re not involved in any shady dealings,” Mac muttered, brow furrowed in a deep scowl.

Eve wiped away her own tears as she slid the man a look of utter disbelief. How could he say that with such conviction when their business was the definition of shady? Then again, he probably thought Delilah meant shady as in illegal, so maybe that’s how he could pull off that whole hook-me-up-to-a-lie-detector-right-now-and-see-I’m-telling-God’s-honest-truth expression.

Delilah narrowed her eyes, the very picture of skepticism. “You’re involved in something out there,” she maintained, and even through the riot of her emotions, Eve had to give it to the woman. Delilah’s instincts were spot-on. Unlike hers. Because she hadn’t believed Becky about the true nature of the men of Black Knights Inc. until the moment she saw Billy, dressed from head to toe in black, sneaking up behind a Somali pirate in order to point a rather terrifying machine gun at the man’s head. Then she’d believed. Boy, oh boy, had she ever. Kind of hard not to when the truth was wearing black and green face paint and staring you smack-dab between the eyes. “It’s in the way you carry yourselves, always on alert,” Delilah continued, underscoring her astuteness. “So, what is it? Drugs? Guns? Forgeries? Money laundering?”