Page 104 of Good Enough

Like an internal monologue moment in a film, everything was in slow motion. Waters took the shot. Sunk it. And without ever checking the ball went in, never removing his eyes from hers, he stood up behind his cue, his left hand cupping the top of the stick, his right fist cupping the left fist, his weight evenly distributed on both feet, falsely relaxed as his eyes stayed on her.

Oh, sweetheart, what the hell happened to you?

He felt a pang in his gut but resisted the urge to rub it in commiseration.

Just.

Suddenly, it was like the movie reel sped up to put them back in real time. Waters swore he could feel the pressure change as time began to move at its normal pace again.

Wordlessly and without glancing over, he handed his cue stick to Nemo, then walked over to her. He stayed on his side of the threshold as if there were a glass wall separating them.

He couldn’t help but be truly concerned. This was not his woman. Something was terribly wrong.

She’s lost weight since I saw her last. There are dark shadows under her eyes, and she looks pale as a ghost. Most definitely freaked the fuck out about something. And it’s bad if she somehow managed to hunt me down.

He realized that there was only one way that could have happened.

Demon.

Time would tell if he was going to thank or kill the motherfucker.

The pink tip of her tongue darted out to wet the pink flesh of her lips, and her teeth worried the bottom one. He desperately wanted to cover her mouth with his, plunge his hands into her hair, and pull her in tight.

“Waters.” Her voice came out raspy. “I’m… um, I’m sorry to bother you,” she tried again.

He dragged his eyes back up to her gaze. “What’s wrong, Kubrick?” He tried to project nonchalance, but he wasn’t sure if he actually was.

Her eyes flicked from guy to guy in the pool room behind him, resting on one in particular for a moment longer, then back to his hazel gaze that had never strayed.

He moved his head to look at the left side of her face. His anger ratcheted up as he grabbed her chin and turned that side of her face to see it in better light. She winced at his grip, so he relaxed just enough to allow her face to slip back to frightened rather than frightened and in pain. “Who did this to you, babe?”

“I have a… a situation.”

It was not lost on him that she didn’t answer the question. Up close, those red blotches were clearly blood, and she had more bruises on her arms and hands. He removed his shirtjack and coaxed her arms into it. He had a feeling that blood needed to be out of sight. She also had a bump to the head above the bruise forming on the left side of her face. He stared into her eyes for a few moments, his expression never changing and weighing her words, her body tightness, and her vocal inflections. Then he nodded to her, gesturing for her to lead the way. She turned on her heel and headed to the exit.

He turned to look at Demon, and the two men shared a look of anger. “Someone hit her. Did she tell you what’s wrong?”

Demon shook his head to the negative. “Just said she had trouble and didn’t know who else to call.”

Waters gave an extra beat in his glance to Demon, who gave Waters a chin lift, then stepped to the back of the pool room and went for his phone. Waters felt them all tensing, ready to take an order. Even they felt her aura was off.

“Be at the ready,” he told them.

Waters followed Kubrick, watching her stiffened posture, and the clenching and unclenching of her fists continued. Once outside, Waters pulled out his aviators from the inner left pocket and put them on against the setting sun. She was standing motionless, as if clueless about whether to go left or right.

Yeah, something is seriously wrong.

He came up along her right side, a hand to her mid-back. “Kubrick?”

She flinched slightly at his use of her nickname and his touch. “I took an Uber.” He heard a sense of confusion and lostness in her voice. Now, he was getting nervous.

Gently, he took her left elbow in hand and directed her to his truck. Without thought, he scanned the streets, looking for anything out of place, including any people who shouldn’t be where they were. He clicked open the truck door and handed her up into the passenger seat, then closed her in and jogged around the front of the truck, hopping up into the driver’s seat.

He started the truck. “Where to?”

“My house.” It was nearly a whisper.

“Seat belt,” he intoned as he slid his phone into the dashboard clip, hit a small blue button next to the GPS, and pulled out into traffic.