Page 144 of Hostile Saint

Dagger teased, “This is bullshit. We’ve been telling the brat that he needs to take his time with breaking Lace out, but no, when Elle says it, it suddenly makes sense.”

“Don’t mess with my baby, Daddy Dag. I have a gun,” she warned.

He lectured me, “Boy, you better put that tongue back in your mouth.”

I didn’t. So, he took a picture.

Charlie loved Elle, too. He couldn’t get enough of her scratching his head.

When it was time to go visit Lacey, she hugged me tight. “Be safe. And don’t forget to get a picture for her ID.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I kissed her cheek, not surprised Lynx was staying behind with her.

Vice and Dagger were my babysitters for the night. Diesel and the Ryders had headed back home from Kansas.

I believed everything was falling into place…

That night, even Lace was surprisingly free of the drug’s sleep-inducing influence.

Before I took a picture, she asked, “Is this enough light on my face?” while sitting next to her desk lamp.

Due to technology, I was told the background of her pic didn’t matter but that a well-lit face was a must. “Yes. That smile will make for the perfect screensaver,” I lied.

“Let me see.” Reaching up, she pulled on my hands to take a peek. Then her smile fell. Letting go of my hands holding the phone, her fingers cautiously touched her now short hair. “I wonder if it used to be longer.”

Hating to see any pain on her face, I shrugged. “Let it grow out and see if you remember it.”

Uncertain, she tugged at the shredded ends. “It’s so uneven. I wish I was allowed scissors to fix it.”

If there was a way to make anything she wanted happen, I would do it. No questions asked. But all I had was a knife. One that I had used to kill her enemies. It didn’t feel right. Even when she pointed to it. “Think you could help me?”

Thinking how the knife had already epically helped her, I thought of Dagger. “It’s not the blade that is dangerous. It’s the holder.” I repeated his words and then took hold of the back of her chair and rolled Lacey into the bathroom.

She giggled, her little bare feet in the air, enjoying the ride.

With the desk chair in her bathroom, she sat there, watching my mirrored image. I felt as if in a trance, studying the knife’s reflection in the mirror, lifting it toward her hair. I had been there when her golden locks were violently hacked off. Now, the guilty parties were gone, and the weapon that had murdered them was rectifying one of their cruelties.

Taking a longer piece of hair, my blade easily sheered it off to make it more even with the other strands.

When Lacey closed her eyes, I quickly asked, “What are you doing?”

She smiled. “Trusting the holder. You.”

To some, that haircut would have been no big deal. To me, it was monumental.

As I sheered more hair, I said goodbye to a tragic memory from my past and gave it a happier ending.

When I was done, I said, “Okay. Tell me what you think.”

Observing her reflection, her eyes lit up. Her hair was no longer jagged. “I think you are perfect.” She leaned her head all the way back. “Don’t make me beg for sugar, Tate.”

I had smiled so many times that day my cheeks actually hurt, but the one she made me smile that night? It was the best. I leaned down and kissed her. “I love you.”

Gasp!

I held the chair still as she moved quickly to her knees. “Tate, I… I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone else.” Her hazels watered as she swallowed. “But I know… I will always love you.”

Jesus. H. Christ.