into a room that we were never allowed in — supposed to be the foster dad’s office or whatever — but I peeked into that room when they didn’t close the door all the way.”
“Oh God.” Delainey covered her eyes, afraid of what was coming next. “Please tell me they weren’t—“
Bronx’s short laugh was bitter as he nodded. “Oh yeah. Even worse than that, they were filming that shit. The mom and dad were both into it. They had Gage’s mouth gagged so he couldn’t make no noise but I could see the tears running down his little face as he tried to endure that fucking torture. Some nights, I still see Gage’s face in my dreams.”
“What did you do after that?”
“I bugged the fuck out of there. I knew it was just a matter of time before I was trussed up like a Christmas turkey taking it up the ass, too. So I bailed. I wanted to take Gage with me, but what the hell was I going to do with a nine-year-old kid on my heels? It wasn’t like I had any way of taking care of myself much less him, too. So I left him there.” He drew a halting breath and the next part came out with so much pain that Delainey nearly felt it herself. “The thing was…Gage never made it out of that fucking house. He died. They made it sound like an accident but…I know it was them. They did something to him because he was going to rat them out or something. I had no way of proving it, though and who was going to believe the word of a known troublemaker like me? Fuck…fucking Gage…I didn’t even know the kid but his face is one I see every night.”
“Oh my God,” Delainey breathed, pulling Bronx to her and kissing him sweetly, conveying all the warmth she felt in her heart into her kiss. “I’m sorry. That’s all I know how to say without sounding trite or ridiculous because I’ve never lived through something so awful but please know that what I feel is honest and true. If I could take that pain away…I would.”
He refused to look at her until she gently guided his gaze to her. In his beautiful, soulful eyes she saw the pain of a child still trying to make sense of something so terrible yet trapped in the body of a man who was just trying to stay one step ahead of the nightmares and she wanted so badly to make it all go away for him. “I’m a lot of things,” he said to her in earnest, as if it meant something that she believe him. “But I don’t hurt kids. Ever . And I don’t let anyone on my crew hurt kids either. Not in that way. And if I ever found out that someone was doing that…I’d fucking end their world.”
Raw and brutal truth resonated within his statement and she had no reason to disbelieve him. The thing was, she agreed with his vicious promise. Anyone who would hurt a child like that…they fucking deserved whatever they got.
-8-
The following day Delainey had errands to run so while she was out and about, Bronx took the opportunity to try and get his bike. He knew it was reckless but he was going crazy without his ride and feeling closed in a cage in Delainey’s apartment.
He caught a cab to his neighborhood but had the cabbie drop him off a mile from his place so he could walk in without being noticed.
All around him he saw threats lurking in the shadows. He’d never been so jumpy in his life. He popped onto the back porch of his place and let himself in the back door quietly. The house was empty but it looked as if it hadn’t been last night. In fact, it looked as if a rager of a party had happened there. He grimaced at the stale smell of smoke and spilled beer, so turned off by the difference between his place and Delainey’s. Her house smelled like pumpkin pie and cookies — thanks to an obsession with scented candles he’d discovered — whereas his place smelled like a dirty asshole after too many spicy burritos. “Fucking awesome,” he muttered, moving past the kitchen and into his bedroom where he kept a spare key. He pulled up short when he saw a bleached
“Oh God.” Delainey covered her eyes, afraid of what was coming next. “Please tell me they weren’t—“
Bronx’s short laugh was bitter as he nodded. “Oh yeah. Even worse than that, they were filming that shit. The mom and dad were both into it. They had Gage’s mouth gagged so he couldn’t make no noise but I could see the tears running down his little face as he tried to endure that fucking torture. Some nights, I still see Gage’s face in my dreams.”
“What did you do after that?”
“I bugged the fuck out of there. I knew it was just a matter of time before I was trussed up like a Christmas turkey taking it up the ass, too. So I bailed. I wanted to take Gage with me, but what the hell was I going to do with a nine-year-old kid on my heels? It wasn’t like I had any way of taking care of myself much less him, too. So I left him there.” He drew a halting breath and the next part came out with so much pain that Delainey nearly felt it herself. “The thing was…Gage never made it out of that fucking house. He died. They made it sound like an accident but…I know it was them. They did something to him because he was going to rat them out or something. I had no way of proving it, though and who was going to believe the word of a known troublemaker like me? Fuck…fucking Gage…I didn’t even know the kid but his face is one I see every night.”
“Oh my God,” Delainey breathed, pulling Bronx to her and kissing him sweetly, conveying all the warmth she felt in her heart into her kiss. “I’m sorry. That’s all I know how to say without sounding trite or ridiculous because I’ve never lived through something so awful but please know that what I feel is honest and true. If I could take that pain away…I would.”
He refused to look at her until she gently guided his gaze to her. In his beautiful, soulful eyes she saw the pain of a child still trying to make sense of something so terrible yet trapped in the body of a man who was just trying to stay one step ahead of the nightmares and she wanted so badly to make it all go away for him. “I’m a lot of things,” he said to her in earnest, as if it meant something that she believe him. “But I don’t hurt kids. Ever . And I don’t let anyone on my crew hurt kids either. Not in that way. And if I ever found out that someone was doing that…I’d fucking end their world.”
Raw and brutal truth resonated within his statement and she had no reason to disbelieve him. The thing was, she agreed with his vicious promise. Anyone who would hurt a child like that…they fucking deserved whatever they got.
-8-
The following day Delainey had errands to run so while she was out and about, Bronx took the opportunity to try and get his bike. He knew it was reckless but he was going crazy without his ride and feeling closed in a cage in Delainey’s apartment.
He caught a cab to his neighborhood but had the cabbie drop him off a mile from his place so he could walk in without being noticed.
All around him he saw threats lurking in the shadows. He’d never been so jumpy in his life. He popped onto the back porch of his place and let himself in the back door quietly. The house was empty but it looked as if it hadn’t been last night. In fact, it looked as if a rager of a party had happened there. He grimaced at the stale smell of smoke and spilled beer, so turned off by the difference between his place and Delainey’s. Her house smelled like pumpkin pie and cookies — thanks to an obsession with scented candles he’d discovered — whereas his place smelled like a dirty asshole after too many spicy burritos. “Fucking awesome,” he muttered, moving past the kitchen and into his bedroom where he kept a spare key. He pulled up short when he saw a bleached
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