Whistler by K.L. Savage

Mercy let me bring my sister to the second floor of the bar where the rooms are renovated and brand new. I rub my tired eyes and yawn. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours. There was no way I could sleep last night. I was too worried about Taylor.

“How’s she doing, Driller?” I ask, my voice hoarse from lack of sleep.

Taylor is sleeping and won’t be waking up any time soon with all the medication Driller has injected her with.

He listens to her heartbeat one more time before taking the stethoscope off and wrapping it around his neck. “It looks worse than it is,” he says.

“Looks worse than it is? Are you fucking kidding me right now, Driller? She’s black and blue all over. She can hardly open her eyes.”

“Which is why I said it looks worse than it is. She’s got a few bruised ribs that will hurt for a while, but considering how bad her bruises are, I expected more damage, Whistler. You’re lucky. She’s lucky. Why don’t you get some rest? Shower. Sleep. Eat. She’s down for the count and she’s safe.”

“Yeah.” I snort with a shake of my head, not believing a word of that. “For how long? How long before she falls into the hands of some other asshole? How long before one of them kills her, Driller?”

“We have to make sure that doesn’t happen. We will protect her.”

“I’ve been protecting her my entire life. I obviously am not doing a great job.”

“She’s alive. Without you, she’d probably be dead.” He slaps me on the shoulder as he walks out the door. “Really. Get some sleep. We need you rested.”

“I don’t know if I could sleep right now. Thanks for everything, Driller. I appreciate it.”

“It’s what I’m here for. She’s not in any pain. I gave her a shit ton of morphine.” He gives my shoulder another squeeze before exiting the room, gently closing the door behind him.

The buzz of the air conditioning kicks on along with the fan blades swirling which causes the metal chains that control it to click together. Taylor is sound asleep. My eyes fall to the bed and are glued to the rise and fall of her chest. “What am I going to do with you, Taylor?” I whisper to her as I tuck a piece of her brown hair behind her ear.

The lamp is on and it casts a faint yellow glow against her cheek causing the black bruises to shine bright.

“I’m going to kill Roy and whoever he owns money to, Sis-a-roo. I don’t care if it makes you hate me. I’ve been too lenient, too passive- just wanting to make you happy. That ends now. If you can’t make good decisions for yourself, then I’ll be making them for you. The nice brother is gone.” I bend down and give her a kiss on the forehead.

I step out of the room and close the door, stretching my neck left and right until I hear an audible crack. My knee throbs, something that hasn’t happened in a while. Kicking down a few doors the other night certainly wasn’t good for it.

Rubbing the muscle around the kneecap, I groan and hang my head. Fuck, that hurts. I adjust all of my weight to the other leg to give my aching knee a break. I lean my back against the wall and stare up at the ceiling.

This bar’s bones have so much potential. Huge beams support the roof, reminding me of a cathedral with a Victorian-style twist to it. The staircase is grand, like something from the Great Gatsby or Titanic. The staircase itself needs some love and after the steps get sanded, painted, or carpeted, whatever Mercy decides, it will look great.

Whoever owned it before was an idiot for having a building like this and letting it go. Mercy had a good idea to buy the place and make it into a safe haven. He’s the right man for the job as Prez. I already can’t wait for us to be a part of a mission that’s actually good for people.

There isn’t a lot of good in the world, but when there is, I always want to be a part of it.

The back of my head hits against the wall and I steal a glance at the metallic emerald wallpaper before shutting my eyes.

Just for a second.

Okay, maybe for a few minutes.

I slide down the wall until my ass hits the floor. I slide to the right as gravity lowers my body to the ground naturally, and I lay on my side with my arm under my head. The hardwood is uncomfortable, but I’m too tired to care.

No one will even notice I’m gone. A quick power nap is all I need and I’ll be good as new.

I’m not sure how long I lie there, but the sound of a sweet voice that’s as smooth as honey filters through my dreams. I slowly come back to the real world and try to pry my eyes open through the sandpaper texture under my lids.

I rub my eyes with my fist, rubbing the need for sleep away.

I need caffeine.

All of it.

Just insert an I.V. drip of coffee in my vein so I can get on with my day.

My eyes close on their own accord and I’ve made the decision to not get up. Someone shakes my shoulder, and I grunt and wave at them to go away.

And then they keep fucking shaking me.

I snag my hand out and wrap my fingers around their wrist for them to stop. “What the hell do you want? I’m sleeping.” My voice is unrecognizable from the stress and lack of sleep. It’s full of grit and gravel which won’t change unless I finally get some rest.

“Whistler, you need to come see this.”

I peek my eye open and see One crouching next to me, elbows on his knees, and staring at me with a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“Just have Mercy do it, man. I’m not the Prez anymore and I need my damn shut-eye.”

“You can get your beauty sleep later. Charlie is here and something is going on with her.”

“So call her husband,” I grumble, the words leaving a bad aftertaste in my mouth.

“Yeah, I doubt we are going to want to do that.”

That has me opening my eyes indefinitely and pushing myself up into a sitting position. I yawn and rub my hands over my face, the stubble along my cheeks scratching against my palm and reminding me that I haven’t shaved in a few days.

“I brought you coffee,” One bribes me. He reaches behind his back and like magic, he produces a cup of coffee. It’s steaming and the smell almost has my eyes rolling to the back of my head. They would, but I’m too tired to put in that much effort right now.

I take a swig of it and cough, nearly spitting it clear across the hall when I taste whiskey. My eyes burn and my throat tingles. “What the fuck, One?” I choke, swallowing the Jameson lying thick on my tongue.

He grins, like the damn cat who ate the canary. “You needed to wake up. I figured what better way to start the day.”

“Trying to kill me,” I grumble, yet take another sip of the damn coffee anyway. His way is crazy, but it oddly works. “Okay, lead the way Master.” I spread my arm out and One holds his chin up high which makes me chuckle.

I take another gulp of the drink.

What the hell is wrong with me?

A sound of pain escapes my lips when I take the first step on my bad leg.

“Shit, is it acting up again?”

“Kicking in my sister’s doors open didn’t help. I’m fine.”

“Let me know if I can get you more whiskey,” One offers.

“Damn straight.” I check the time and want to cry like a kid when I see it’s barely eight in the morning.

We finally make it to the bottom of the staircase when I finish off the whiskey coffee and see Mercy talking to a guy around his age. Mercy is waving his arms as he speaks, pointing to the area where the girls used to perform.

I overhear him say, “I want this to be a shelter of sorts, but I want each woman or girl to have their own private space. I know they will be small, but I’m hoping you could fit ten rooms in here with their own small bathroom with a tub. Women like tubs and if they have kids, they need to bathe them.”

Man, the guy has a heart of gold.

I leave them to talk and follow One to the side room where I hear workers tearing the floorboards up. A few guys are gathering the debris and carrying it outside to throw it away.

One points to a woman who is talking to a member of the crew while pointing to the wall. I narrow my eyes as I analyze Charlie. She’s got a busted lip and her eye is bruised. With how she moves, stiff and slow, it seems like her back hurts too.

My blood pressure rises, and I squeeze the white mug in my hand to a point where it might break. I knew her husband was worthless.

I stomp over to her and when the guy she is talking to sees me coming, he snatches a piece of paper from Charlie before running away.

When her eyes land on me, I nearly trip over my big, bulky boots. Her pink lips stretch into a wide grin and her blue eyes remind me of crystal-clear oceans, bright and inviting. The longer I stare, the more I never want to leave. She’s a vacation, the break a man needs from the world.

Her auburn hair is vivid against the green shirt, and I imagine myself running my fingers through it to feel how soft it is. The ends curl up from the heat and she’s flushed which shows the freckles she has dotted across her nose.

It’s so hard to control the impulse not to kiss every single one. I have to squeeze my hands into fists to stop myself from kissing her and treating her the way a man is supposed to treat a woman.

I won’t be the reason a woman cheats, not that Charlie is like that. I don’t think she is, but damn it, the bad man in me wants her to be.

I’d never lay a hand on her unless it’s on her ass while I’m ten inches deep inside her tight cunt.

My cock twitches at the dirty image running wild in my head.

Damn it to hell, I’m screwed twenty ways to Sunday.

“Charlie, we need to talk.” I press my hand against the middle of her back, not her lower back because I don’t want her to think I’m trying to get frisky and guide her through the thick plastic tarps so we can be alone.

Being alone with her is a bad idea. I want to erase her pain and give her pleasure. I want to show her that love doesn’t live in lies. Charlie would never have to lie again because I’d give her what she needs.

Adoration.

Truth.

Love.

“What’s wrong, Whistler?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

It isn’t in defiance, but protection.

She’s creating a barrier between us, so she feels safe. That’s alright. One day, she’ll see she doesn’t need to do that with me.

“How did you get those bruises, Charlie?”

She lifts her fingers to her eyes and laughs, but it’s forced. “It’s silly. You won’t believe me.”

Oh, I can’t wait to hear the reason she comes up with. I know my sister can get pretty creative. “Try me,” I state, leaning my shoulder against the wall. I lace my fingers behind my back and Charlie’s eyes follow.

I can see the relief when her shoulders sag. It’s less stressful for her to not see my hands. Noted.

“I tripped while carrying the laundry into the bedroom and slammed my face in the corner of the dresser, then the basket fell out of my hands, and I tripped over that and hit the bedpost.” She won’t look at me. Her hand rubs the back of her neck and there is a small bead of sweat gathering along her temple. I watch her chest and her breathing becomes quicker.

She’s lying but smiling through it.

Damn, how many times has she had to pretend?

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Charlie. Not here. This is a safe place. Is someone hurting you?” I keep my voice low and her eyes dart to my face quickly at my question. She opens her mouth and there is a slight hesitation to tell me the truth.

“What? No. No one is hurting me. My husband loves me. We are happy,” she says in defense. “He loves me.” She sounds like she’s said this in her mind on repeat, hoping to convince herself.

“Listen, there is better out there for you. I don’t believe you for a damn second, Charlie. I know what you’ll do, you’ll go back home and hope everything changes. You’ll give him chance after chance, hoping he loves you like you need him to.” I take a step closer and tighten my hands together to stop myself from reaching out to touch her face, showing her how gentle a man can really be. “But he won’t. He’ll keep beating you until you’re in the hospital or dead. You’ll never be able to do anything right in his eyes. No matter how hard you try. No matter what you do. No matter the extremes you go to please him, nothing will work. It isn’t you that is broken, Charlie. It’s him.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she answers poorly, and her eyes begin to water.

I take a chance and remove one hand from my back and lift it slowly. Her breath catches and she watches in terror, frozen and trembling. Charlie flinches when the pads of my fingers slide under her chin. “I’m never going to hurt you,” I explain. “I’m not that kind of man. I’d never hurt you.”

“He doesn’t hurt me,” her voice shakes as she swallows.

“He doesn’t love you.”

She yanks herself away from me and her lips frown in anger while her eyes scream something else entirely.

Denial.

“You have a lot of nerve talking to me about something that is none of your business. Even if he was hitting me, which—” she scoffs “—he isn’t. I wouldn’t just blab it to someone I hardly know. Do not talk to me as if you know me and my situation. God, you have a lot of audacity.”

“My audacity will save your life one day, Cupcake.”

She takes a step forward and shoves a finger into my chest. “If anyone is going to save me, it’s going to be me.”

A tarp parts and One peeks his head out from between them. “Everything okay?” he asks.

“Just peachy. You need to put a leash on him,” Charlie scowls at me. She stomps away and shoves her shoulder into my arm as she passes.

I blow out a breath and tilt my head back, throwing my hands on my hips. She’s got fire left in her. Good. She’s going to need it.

“Was I right?” He steps into the spot Charlie was standing in just a minute ago.

“I think so. She isn’t a very good liar.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t let her get hurt, can I? I have to protect the women in my life, whether they are strangers or not. It isn’t right to look the other way.”

“Whatever you want to do, you know I’m here.”

“I can’t go around yanking wives from their homes. Husbands won’t like that very much.” I listen to her talk while she speaks to her dad.

“I tripped. I’m okay, Dad.”

“You’re the clumsiest woman alive, Charlie-Ann. What am I going to do with you?” her dad chuckles.

One and I share a look. There’s no way her dad believes her. He can’t. Why hasn’t he done anything?

“I need more information. I want you to dive deep into her past, her husband’s too.”

“That’s a little out of my expertise. I’ll have to sick Princess on it since he goes deeper than Tutu.”

“Do it. I want all the information I need before I do something crazy.” Like kill her husband with her watching. “I need another drink.”

And I need my head examined for getting in the middle of this, but when a man hurts a woman, it becomes my business.

Nothing pisses me off more than domestic violence.

Charlie is young and she deserves everything she wants in life.

Love isn’t meant to be a prison.

It’s meant to be a sanctuary.

I can give her that, even if it means I’m not a part of the haven she’s going to find herself in.