Page 22 of Give Me Peace

Kade

I’ve spent five hours on a plane and another two in my car. My ass stinks and I’m hungry as fuck. If Krew thought I was going to spend half my day lounging at the hotel until it was time for my flight, then he’s not as smart as I thought he was. And dude’s pretty fucking brilliant. There’s no such thing as relaxing if I’m not in the comfort of my own home. I don’t know if it was my constant complaining that had Loch calling me back early or something else, but I could kiss the motherfucker for letting me cut and run. These past three weeks have been hell.

The Vantworth assignment was garbage. For nearly a month, I’ve done nothing more than babysit some rockstar’s spoiled, twat of a daughter. The hours that girl keeps are ridiculous, bouncing from one night club to the next. I never did the party thing, so maybe that’s why my tolerance for her bullshit was at an all-time low. Who has that much energy? Coke fiends, that’s who. All I want to do is fall face first into my fucking bed and sleep for a week straight. Preferably after a hot shower.

Whatever perfume the brat wore is lingering like a motherfucker. I think it’s attached itself to my clothing after being around her for weeks on end. I’ll probably have to burn it all. Some days, I really question why I continue to put up with shit like this, but then I think of all I’ve gained and know I’d tolerate a hundred more Sabrina Vantworth’s to keep living this life I’ve been given. For someone like me, I never dreamed I’d have people I could count on, much less consider family.

No one in my hometown of Pike’s Bay ever thought I’d amount to anything. After all the hell I raised, I can’t say I’m not shocked by my choice of job, either. I’ve always been the person someone might need protection from, not the protector. When Loch and Ro came to town, I’d been one wrong move from landing myself a plot at the local cemetery. I’d been through some shit over the years, but I think I was at my absolute lowest the day I approached them.

And everything I have now is a product of my regret. The bank account that’s no longer at risk of being in the negative, the buttery leather seats of my Audi, the family I’ve gained. Each one reminds me that our actions have consequences. That there are no do-overs in life. So, I spend my days trying to right my wrongs the only way I know how. I see her in every broken girl whose file comes across my desk. She’s not just a part of my story, she’s the story. It all began with her.

For so long, I tried to justify the things I did. I had a shit upbringing, blessed with parents who didn’t give one iota about the kid they made. They’re only concern was where they’d get their next fix and how they planned to pay for it. It made me an angry kid, so in turn, I took my own issues out on people who were weaker than me. Specifically, one pixie of a girl with golden blonde hair and magnetic blue eyes.

Saylor Radley.

Just thinking her name makes my stomach twist. It sends a jolt through my body so powerful my heart forgets the proper way to beat. She was an easy target; the girl who had it all. I’d crawl into bed in the dark of night, after searching our cabinets for something—anything— to fill my stomach and let my mind wander. It’s the only time I’d allow myself to hope for something more. And then I’d shut that shit down and accept those thoughts for what they were—fantasies.

Saylor had the life I wanted and I hated her for it. Only now, I realize it was never hate that I felt. I was just fucking jealous. Her mom would pack her a lunch every day, with little notes hidden inside for her to find, and mine screamed at me for daring to eat the last few stale crackers in the house when I’d been starving. She was carefree and ignorant of the real world. She got to be a kid while I had to grow up way too fast and fend for myself.

I wanted her to feel the way I felt. So, I did everything I could to darken Saylor’s pristine little world. In grade school, I’d yank her pigtails and trip her on the playground. She’d never rat me out though, even when I’d get caught. Saylor would come up with some reason or another for why she was sprawled in the dirt that wouldn’t implicate me. Every single time. She never fought back or mouthed off, and it infuriated me.

By the time we got to middle school, I’d grown fond of verbal taunting. I’d cut Saylor down with my biting words and hateful rumors. I teased her relentlessly, but she never caved. I tried so hard to bury that day, to push it from my goddamn mind, but it wouldn’t let me go. It was the first time I’d ever seen a visible crack in the mask she wore. She put on a brave face, acting like my bullshit didn’t bother her, but not that day. She wasn’t quite so successful in hiding her hurt, and it didn’t feel nearly as good as I thought it would.

Saylor’s eyes had filled with tears, those crystal orbs betraying her as she fought tooth and nail to appear unaffected. The things I’d said, on the front lawn of the school with everyone watching, will haunt me for the rest of my life. She’d embarrassed me, so I was ruthless with my words. I let her walk away, knowing she missed her bus, and I can never take that back. That’s the last time anyone saw Saylor.

At first, I wondered if she’d simply run away. If maybe she was fed up with being treated like shit. But then the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and I knew it went beyond her bully fucking with her head. I joined every search party the town organized. Hell, I even got her picture from the school’s website, printed off copies at the library and slapped a missing sign on every light pole in Laiken County.

I felt personally responsible for Saylor’s disappearance. And why shouldn’t I? If I hadn’t caused her to miss the bus, she wouldn’t have been walking home to begin with. At bare minimum, I could have made sure she got home safely. But I didn’t, and the regret of that is immeasurable. My mom named me Havok for a reason, though. Apparently, I came into the world and fucked everything up the moment I took my first breath. I reckon I haven’t stopped since.

The years that followed were dark. I spun even farther out of control, lashing out at anyone who so much as looked at me the wrong way. And God help the poor fucker who dared to speak the name Saylor Radley. Everyone in Pike’s Bay knew not to breathe a word of her around me. My teenage years were one for the books. I had my ass thrown in a holding cell more times than I can count for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.

I became obsessed with finding out what happened to her. The men whose jobs I was interfering with didn’t appreciate that too much, but I wanted answers. It was stupid to think I could figure out what no one else had been able to, including the FBI, but I couldn’t let it go. Eventually, I approached Saylor’s mom. That was akin to having my knees taken out with a sledgehammer. It knocked me on my ass to see how alike they were. I never expected it, but we grew close. And then I lost her, too.

But Lochlan came along, offering me a job, after I had all but accosted him and demanded he take on Saylor’s case. It’d been a complete accident that our path’s crossed. Then we found that picture, and it’s felt like I’ve been living on borrowed time ever since. I try to avoid these fucked up trips down memory lane, knowing they usually conclude with a three-day bender I can’t afford. It’s a rabbit hole, and once I’m in, it requires a heavy dose of Prozac to climb out.

When the driveway comes into view, my mood is even worse than it was. I could go for a pint of whiskey, but a beer will suffice. The gate slides open easily and I creep down the long gravel drive. I wish Loch would give in and have the damn thing paved already. Not all of us drive tanks. When the garage closes behind me, I cut the engine, feeling ten pounds lighter already. I really hope Kash has been in one of his baking frenzies. I’ve been living off microwave dinners for far too long.

I shove the door open, dropping my shit to the floor as soon as I’m inside. My keys are tossed on the entry table, though Loch will probably bitch about that later. It takes me off guard when I look up and see the guys standing there, their faces all showing various degrees of concern. All I can think is ‘whatthe ever-loving fuck has happened now?’. I love these assholes, they’re family after all, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m heading out again on some bullshit assignment before I’ve even unpacked from the last one.

“The fuck are y’all standing there like that for?” My head jerks back with the question. The way they’re lined up like they’re headed to battle puts me on edge.

“Kade, I need you to stay calm, mate.” I snort. Our supreme leader is clearly feeling flustered. He only throws around his English words when he’s worked up or nervous.

“Your British is showing, mate,” I throw back, amused but also wary. There’s this morsel of dread in my gut, but it’s steadily growing the longer they drag this out…whatever it is. I’m a half second from saying fuck it and walking away when Loch says something that stops me dead in my tracks.

“It’s Saylor,” he rushes out, causing my blood to run cold. “We got a lead early Monday morning. A location.”

“Where?” I croak, pushing back the acid sitting heavy in my throat.

“Lyola.”

One word. One fucking word makes the room sway. I throw my hand out and clutch the counter. There’s a roaring in my ears, as if my mind is screaming. I was just thinking about her ten minutes ago. How’s that possible? It’s like I conjured this moment into being. Or maybe it was a premonition. But it’s all wrong. The outcome. The answers. How the fuck was she so close this whole time?

“Did you find..?” My voice cracks, but I push on. “A body?” The question tastes like ash on my tongue, bitter and final. Loch’s lips press together, his eyes full of emotion as he gives me a small shake of his head. My breath whooshes out of me, because if they didn’t recover anything then there’s still a chance she’s out there. Before I can ask anything else, Roan pulls a girl from behind his back like he’s performing a goddamn magic trick.

My heart’s still beating off-key as I take her in. She’s tiny. In both height and weight. She’s also hurt, judging by the splint on her wrist and the bruises marking her body. It’s a horribly inappropriate thought but fuck she’s beautiful. Long blonde hair. Striking blue eyes. My brain stutters, like it’s trying to tell me something. No way. My eyes are playing tricks on me. They have to be.

“Saylor?” My disbelief is evident.