Page 36 of Ruined
“Can we move past this? If we’re going to keep Eden safe and take down Donovan, there can’t be any mistrust between us.”
“Agreed,” Lucifer says, standing and holding out a hand to me. I take it, and this time he pulls me in for a back slapping hug.
“It’s good to have you back, Daemon. It’s killed me to stay away all these years.” Lucifer continues to hold me, squeezing tighter.
“It’s … only been … two years,” I croak out, breathlessly. “You’re … choking me.”
He lets me go, and I lean my hands on my knees while a rush of oxygen fills my lungs making me cough. Lucifer pats my back. “Damn, kid, did you go weak on me sitting behind a desk all day?”
I stand quickly, my left fist connecting with his lower abdomen. He doubles over with a groan and chuckle. “Okay, you got me,” he says with a moan.
“I thought so.” I walk out, a grin firmly in place. Damn, it’s good to be back.
“Tellme what you learned about zip ties.”
It’s been a week since the attack that nearly claimed Kain’s life and had me almost kidnapped. Since then, Daemon took a leave from work and practically moved into the house—he claimed it was for added security while Kain’s on the mend, I’m not buying it. Kain is recovering, slowly, and hating every second of Wyatt’s physical therapy.
“Listen here, fucker, if you poke me one more time—”
“You’ll what? Chase me down and beat me with your walker? I’m pretty sure I can outrun you, Kain.”
Being witness to the Kain and Wyatt show is rather entertaining and the highlight of my mornings. But in reality, it’s just nice to see Kain with his eyes open and to listen to him grumble. Two days of not knowing what was going to happen was terrifying, the longest forty-eight hours of my life.
Lucifer is gone most days, garnering support for the meeting with the network leaders that has been set for tomorrow. When he is around, he’s locked up in his office, unapproachable, miles away inside his head.
As promised, Daemon and I started training. It’s been a welcome distraction from everything else going on. The research he had me do while I waited included different kinds of rooms you could find yourself locked in and how to escape from them. Lucifer didn’t much appreciate it when Daemon taught me how to overload the electrical outlets, tripping the breakers to short an electrical lock, but I sure did. Talk about holding power in the palm of your hand.
Practicing getting out of being tied up was a harder lesson to get through, but just like with Kain, I worked my way through the panic, and the downward spiral that comes with it. Once I was able to control my body’s physical and mental responses, training was actually very … educational and, well, sensual. Who knew getting tied up could actually be fun if done with the right person?
Here we are, Daemon sitting across from me at a small round coffee table with two white zip ties in his hand. “How would you break free?” he asks, looking at me expectantly. Little does he realize; I know this one.
A smile crosses my face. “There are two ways to get free that don’t require assistance or other objects. One is to shimmy out of the bindings, which requires specific hand placements before the ties are tightened into place. The other is breaking the locking mechanism.”
“Good, when your side is healed more, we’ll practice these.” He tucks the ties into his pocket and places his hands on the table, squeezing them together. His face pales, and his eyes twitch. Anxiety pours off of him in waves, and the air around us fills with a nervous energy that causes the hairs on my arms to stand on end.
Leaning forward, I place my hand on his, gaining his attention. Wide, beautiful, honey brown orbs with gold flecks stare back at me. “Daemon, is everything okay?” I ask, and he quickly pulls his hands back.
“Yeah,” he croaks and coughs, clearing his throat.
“Why did you choose to be a cop?” I blurt out. The look of shock that passes over Daemon’s face is fleeting, quickly replaced with a sigh of relief and a brilliant smile.
He sits back in his seat and seems to ponder a moment before he dives into the story of a youthful man who bounced from foster home to foster home, always getting into trouble, and the kindhearted yet stern police officer who rode him hard to straighten his life out.
“Officer McAllen never gave up on me. No matter how hard I pushed or how often he’d pick me up for stupid little shit, he would just hold on that much tighter.
“How old were you when he first picked you up?
“I was six. He picked me up for shoplifting a loaf of bread, peanut butter, and a six pack of beer.”
“Are you serious? You were six years old.”
“Sure was. The beer was for my foster mom, the bread and peanut butter were for me. I hadn’t eaten in two days, and I was starving. He went to Edward and asked him to take me in. He’s the reason I found a family. He saw through everything. He got me into sports and attended all my games. When I got to high school, and they asked us what we wanted to do when we graduated, I just knew I wanted to help troubled kids like me. I wanted to be a police officer.”
The pride that radiates from the smile rooted to his face as he talks about the man who helped him become the man he is today, is breathtaking. I can’t stop the answering smile that forms on my lips.
He looks out over the garden in the backyard and stands. “Will you go for a walk with me?” The uncertainty on his face as he looks down at me, waiting for my answer, fills me with warmth.
“I would love to.” I stand and, together, we walk in a comfortable silence.