Unleashing Hound Page 16

  “Hound?”

  Her concern stabbed at me. She was perfection, and I was broken beyond repair. Refusing to let her see me so weak and useless, I forced myself to stand, toss the condom, and grab my jeans. Fireworks exploded behind my eyes as I sat on the bed and put them on.

  “Hound?” Mila asked again. Getting to her knees, she crawled over. “What can I do to help?”

  “I just gotta lay down for a while.” My shoes and shirt were across the room. They might as well have been in China. Leaving them behind, I stood and hobbled to the door.

  Mila was right behind me, reaching for her robe. “I can help.”

  “No.” I didn’t want her to see me like this. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

  Closing her door behind me, I leaned against the wall, using it to help me as I made my way to the bathroom to pray to the porcelain god again.

  16

  Mila

  I STARED AFTER Hound, wondering what to do. Usually I was the one who left after sex, so it was a bit unsettling to be on this side of the transaction, watching him walk out the door.

  It stung like rejection.

  But Hound hadn’t rejected me. He’d taken care of me when I was drunk, then he gave me two amazing orgasms without regard for the price such physical activity would demand from his body. He was a giver, and I’d taken everything he had to offer, leaving him spent and in the kind of crippling pain that barely allowed him to walk out my door.

  “Sometimes an adult is the loneliest thing you can be.”

  It was plain to see Hound’s words had come from experience. Like me, he was a loner, condemned to shoulder his suffering on his own. I understood his struggle, knew he needed me, yet I’d let him leave to seek solitude. He’d been an incredible friend to me, and in return, I’d used him up and left him to his own devices.

  Throwing on my bathrobe, I flung open my door and searched the hallway, but Hound was nowhere in sight. He’d always come to me, so I had no idea which room was his, and wasn’t about to go door knocking. After last night’s party, most of the club was probably hungover, and I wouldn’t make any friends by waking them up.

  Frustrated, and disgusted with myself for being too self-absorbed to ask Hound for something as simple as his fucking room number, I closed and locked my door, ditched my robe, and climbed back into bed. It was still early, and I had no reason to be out of bed.

  I don’t know where he is. There’s nothing I can do.

  The self-reassurance did little to absolve me because I knew the truth. There was always something I could do. Grumbling about my own resourcefulness, I grabbed my cell and shot Hound a text asking for his room number.

  Minutes ticked by with no response.

  Guilt gnawed at me as I stared up at the ceiling, wishing I had followed him when he left. Or insisted he stay.

  What if he really hurt himself?

  What if he can’t move?

  What if he needs help?

  Worry tied knots in my stomach until I couldn’t take it anymore. Knowing I would probably regret the decision, I texted Levi, asking for Hound’s room number.

  My phone rang almost immediately. Staring at the screen, I cursed my cousin’s name for not just texting me back like a normal person. I thought about letting the call go to voicemail, but the idea of him showing up at my door made me answer.

  “Why do you want Hound’s number?” Levi asked.

  “Good morning, cousin. Happy Saturday. How are you this fine day?” I shot back with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

  “Oh, so small talk’s your thing now?”

  “No, but manners sure as hell are.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll bite. Good morning. Why the fuck do you want Hound’s number?”

  “Why do you think that’s any of your business?”

  “Because he’s a good guy and he’s been through enough. I don’t want you fuckin’ with him, Meals.”

  Ouch. That stung. “I’m not fuckin’ with him. I want to check on him and make sure he’s okay.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m worried.”

  “I get that, but why? Has he given you any reason to be worried?”

  I so did not want to answer that question. Staring at the door like the right thing to say was about to waltz through it, I chewed on my bottom lip.

  “Meals, if he’s using again, I need to know…”

  “It’s not that. He was in a lot of pain when I saw him a few minutes ago, and—”

  “It’s seven-thirty-two am on a Saturday. Where’d you happen to run into him?”

  “Levi, I’m a grown ass adult and I don’t need to have this conversation with you.”

  “Then answer the fucking question.”

  I didn’t want to lie, but I wasn’t thrilled about telling the truth, either. “We live in the same building and there’s this cool hallway outside my room that leads to the communal bathrooms.”

  “You saw him in the hall?”

  Why did he have to ask me point-blank like that? “Not exactly.”

  “Goddammit, Meals, just tell me.”

  “He stayed the night, okay?” I snapped.

  Silence.

  “Levi?”

  No answer. His silence was as deafening as his disappointment. Both ate away at me, making me feel like shit. I pulled the phone away from my face to make sure he hadn’t hung up on me. Nope. The call was still connected. And every second that ticked by made me feel worse about myself.

  Pissed that my need to get laid had caused this mess, I snapped, “Are you gonna give me his room number so I can check on him or what?”

  “Don’t break him.”

  More guilt piled onto my shoulders. My cousin didn’t trust me with Hound, and he wasn’t wrong for being leery. “I won’t.” I hoped. “He’s a friend, Levi.”

  “Yeah? Well, when I said make a friend, I didn’t mean… make a friend.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “You’ve always been an overachiever.”

  “Says the veteran business owner who works twenty-four seven. Hound’s room number?”

  “Two-oh-seven.”

  “Thank you.” I hung up before Levi could grill me further. Slipping on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, I grabbed Hound’s shirt, vest, and boots and headed down the hall.

  Hound’s room was only three doors down and across the hall from mine. I knocked and waited. There was no answer, so I tried the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, I let myself in. Hound was lying on the floor halfway between the door and the bed, staring at the ceiling.

  “Figured you might need these,” I said, holding up his things before I set them by the dresser.

  His gaze darted to me. “Thanks. I didn’t quite make it to the bed.” His words were breathy and pinched with pain. He was putting on an impressive front, but beads of sweat coated his hairline, and lines marred his forehead

  “I see that. Can you get on the bed now?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  I waited. His arm twitched. A leg rolled to the right.

  “Okay, maybe not,” he said.

  So much for his bravado. “If I help, can you turn over on your stomach?”

  “Maybe.”

  It took us a few moments and a lot of wincing and heavy breathing, but we finally managed to roll him over.

  Promising to be right back, I hurried to my room, retrieved a bottle of lotion, and returned. Hound hadn’t moved, and his face was still pinched with pain. I squirted lotion into my hands and rubbed them together to warm it before massaging Hound’s neck. His muscles felt so damn tight it was a wonder he could even turn his head. As I dug into the tissue, he groaned in pain.

  “Sorry. Let me know if it gets too bad and you need a break,” I said.

  He grunted.

  I didn’t know if that meant yes or no, but I kept working. Once his neck muscles were loosened up, I started in on his trapezius and deltoids. After his shoulders, I attacked the muscles on both side
s of his spine, moving up and down the injured vertebrae. Now that I could see and feel the damage, I gained a whole new respect for the amount of strength and determination it must take Hound just to get out of bed every morning. I dug the heels of my hands into his obliques, before working over his glutes. By the time I finished, the lines of pain had disappeared from his forehead, and the tension seemingly etched in his face had somewhat relaxed.

  “Can you get on the bed now?” I asked.

  Testing his back, he slowly pushed himself off the floor. “Yeah.” He crawled onto the bed and collapsed on his back with a huff. “Thank you, Mila.”

  The emotion in his gaze did funny things to my stomach and made me strangely uncomfortable. Sex had hurt him, so I’d repaired him, that was all. I didn’t want or need the feelings he stirred up when he directed that level of intensity toward me. It made me feel like I’d backed myself up to a cliff. I didn’t have a parachute, and I wasn’t ready to jump.

  Uneasy, I looked away and attempted to bring some levity to the situation. “Hey, you gave me orgasms, I gave you a massage. I think we’re even.”

  Friends. Just friends.

  “Hardly,” he replied, making me wonder if he could read my mind.

  Unable to handle the heaviness of his tone, I stepped back. I needed to manage this like he was a client. Something I could deal with. We’d fucked, I’d checked on him, helped loosen him up, and now I was free to go. My job was done.

  So, why couldn’t I leave?

  Against my better judgment, my feet felt like they were glued to the floor. Wondering what to do, I scanned the room, looking for hints about what made Hound tick. Hints I shouldn’t want or need. He was a friend, but that was all. I didn’t want to lead him on or confuse him about what had transpired between us.

  He’s basically a client.

  Only I never worked pro bono. My gaze landed on the top of his dresser where two Budweiser glasses stood sentry over a small bottle of CBD oil. “Prized possessions?” I joked, still trying to lighten the mood.

  He followed my gaze. “Actually, yes. The glasses were a gift from my little sister… a reminder of why I need to stay clean and sober. I don’t want her seeing me as a drunk morphine addict.”

  It was a thread that led to the fabric of his past. I should have left it alone, but instead, I tugged on it. “Is she your only sibling?”

  “She’s my only family, really. At least the only family I talk to. What about you? Are you close to any of your family?”

  I shook my head. “They were furious with me for leaving the compound, and the reverend doesn’t allow us to stay in contact.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  I shrugged off his concern. “I didn’t lose much. My parents were… complicated.” I couldn’t even begin to unravel that shitshow. “I have two older sisters and a younger brother, and we were never very close.”

  My mind wandered back to a conversation with my oldest sister, Mary. It was the night of my thirteenth birthday, and she was leading me down the hallway of the reverend’s private chambers, toward a door I’d only ever heard rumors about. Those rumors froze my feet to the floor, making Mary practically drag me along.

  “You’re doing God’s will,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’ll hurt, but the pain fades and you’ll be blessed for your obedience.” As she opened the door, her condescending smile churned my stomach. “Don’t be a baby, Amelia. Make Mother and Father proud.”

  My first time in the reverend’s bed was brutal. He smelled of sour wine and decay, and every time he touched me, I wanted to vomit. Through the pain and the stink, all I could think about was making my family proud. They always said to mind the reverend. I knew better than to talk back or resist. Bad things happened to those who did. I held my tongue as he forced himself between my legs and ripped me apart from the inside out. When he finished with me, blood coated my thighs and I could barely walk. He dismissed me with a disgusted wave of his hand, and I slid my dress back on over my head and limped out the door feeling like old flavorless gum he’d chewed up and spit in the trash.

  I felt dirty. Used. Wrong.

  Mary met me outside of the reverend’s room with a smug smile. “See? You’re not so special. We’re all the same. We all have to do our duty.”

  Tears leaked from my eyes as my insides dissolved, leaving me with a hollow feeling in my spirit. “Did you… Did he do that to you?”

  Her jaw ticked. “We’re not allowed to talk about what happens in the reverend’s chambers with anyone. That’s between you, the reverend, and God. The reverend will find out if you wag your jaw, so keep your trap shut.”

  “But he…” More tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried to put the experience into words.

  Mary rolled her eyes. “The reverend takes care of us and helps us get into heaven. It’s a small price to pay. Don’t be such a baby, Amelia.” She marched off, without waiting to see if I’d follow.

  “Where did you go just now?” Hound asked, bringing me back to the present.

  Startled, I shook my head, trying to free myself from the helplessness brought on by the memory. “Go?”

  “Yeah. You looked light years away.”

  When Billy freed me from the compound, I locked up my memories of the reverend’s chambers. For years, I’d successfully repressed them. I’d almost convinced myself none of it was real, that nothing had happened, and I’d made it all up. But now, everything came flooding back in vivid detail, and I couldn’t deny the truth. The pain. The betrayal I felt from my sister, from my parents. The reverend had raped me. Multiple times. I could still feel the hot, sticky touch of his meaty palms. I could hear the slap of his flabby stomach against my back and smell sour wine and decay on his breath.

  Years had passed, but the memories still managed to rip out my insides. Broken, bleeding, gutted, I stood before him, trying to stanch the flow. Hound watched me expectantly, wanting more. Couldn’t he see what giving up even the smallest detail had cost me?

  This is why I don’t open up. Ever.

  “I’m… I just remembered something I need to do. Are you okay now?”

  Disappointment flooded his eyes, making me feel even more inadequate. Like a complete failure. Normal people could share more than a physical connection, but I was far from normal. I hadn’t meant to lead him on, but I couldn’t do this with him. Couldn’t do it with anyone. I felt my walls slam back into place in a desperate attempt to shield myself from his hurt. And from mine. If I couldn’t even handle my own pain, I had no business trying to shoulder his.

  “My back feels better. Thanks for the massage.”

  Unable to even look at him, I fled, hurrying toward my room like my ass was on fire. Like some unwelcome catalyst, Hound had made me feel and remember shit I needed to keep locked down. Memories kept battering the back of my mind, and now that they’d been released, I was having one hell of a hard time repressing them again.

  I needed to get back home, back on track and away from this place, then I’d be fine. I could go back to life as usual and put this all behind me. I poured myself a double shot of tequila and tossed it back, both loving and hating the way it burned. Refilling my cup, I collapsed on the loveseat and thumbed through the contacts on my phone. Finding the number I was looking for, I hit the call button.

  “Detective Monte,” he answered, his tone clipped but professional.

  “Hello, Detective Monte. It’s Amelia Davis. I’m calling to check in. Have you found Rishi and Polly’s murderer yet?”

  “We’re still investigating. I told you I’d call if I found anything.” He sounded frustrated, but not necessarily with me. Probably with the situation and his lack of information.

  “What about leads?” I was desperate for a lifeline. Any port in the storm would do. I just needed one little glimmer of hope that I’d eventually be able to get out of Seattle and away from Hound, Levi, and everyone else who kept fucking with my emotions. I needed to get back to the controlled life I’d so
carefully crafted for myself. Back behind the walls that could protect me from my past. “Do you have any leads at all?”

  “We keep running into dead ends. I’ll let you know if that changes.” He didn’t sound hopeful.

  My case didn’t feel like a priority. I needed it to be and wasn’t too proud to play on the good detective’s pity. “But school starts at the end of next month. I’d like to come back and get my classroom ready for all the children counting on me. Will I be in danger? Will my students be in danger?”

  “I can’t answer that, Ms. Davis.”

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw my phone and watch it shatter into millions of satisfying pieces. I wanted to find this goddamn killer so I could hop on the next flight to Ontario and go home. But since I couldn’t do any of that, I thanked the detective for his time and hung up.

  Needing to do something more, I scrolled through my contacts again, landing on Toby’s number. I hadn’t talked to him since Hound and I ran into him at the coffee shop. Levi said Toby was clean, but I still had my doubts. His appearance had been far too convenient. Something had to be up. Maybe if I got close to him, he’d drop a hint or slip up. Maybe I could crack this case myself since nobody else seemed to be able to. Determined to try something other than sitting on my ass and waiting on the guys to take care of my problem, I dialed my old friend’s number.

  Toby was extremely happy to hear from me, and we set up a lunch date for Sunday at noon. When I got off the phone, I sneaked down to the kitchen and grabbed some snacks before spending the day holed up in my room. Hound came by around dinner time, but I couldn’t deal with him, so I tossed back another double shot of nasty ass tequila and ignored his knock.

  17

  Hound

  “I BROUGHT YOU dinner last night,” I said, watching Mila in my peripheral as we left the fire station, walking toward the crosswalk. She’d been quiet since we’d set out, and I was determined to get her to open up to me again. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”