Southern Comfort - Natasha Madison Page 0,26

shakes her head, but her eyes never meet mine. She sits on my bed, and my hands are on both sides of her legs while she talks. I want to hold her in my arms while she tells this story, but I want her to open up to me more than I want to touch her.

“I was there maybe two minutes before the commotion started. Someone kicked down the door, and I was standing there with my feet glued to the floor. Even if I tried to move, I couldn’t because a gun was placed at the side of my head.” When her hand comes up and she rubs her temple, my anger starts to rise. “I can still feel the cold metal placed there.” Her eyes meet mine, and I see the turmoil in them. It’s clear for everyone to see. It’s clear for me to see, and for once, she isn’t guarded. For once, she is herself.

“He pushed me forward.” One of my hands forms a fist. “Told me to get down. The words were stuck in my throat. I didn’t know what was going on, and when I looked up, all I saw were black boots as they stormed into the house. It was almost like I was a part of a movie. They all had on headgear, and their guns were aimed, ready to be fired. I didn’t even feel him pull my arms to my back, but I then felt the cold cuffs being placed on me. He took a hold of my arm and forced me to stand, and all I could do was watch. I looked over at him and saw he still had his gun out, and I have never felt more scared in my life. Dominic was dragged out of his bedroom. I expected him to tell them that I had nothing to do with whatever was going on, that I was not even with him, but he did none of that. He kept his mouth shut and didn’t say a fucking word.” She shakes her head, and I want to have four minutes with this guy. Four minutes and I would bring him to his knees. Four minutes of pure torture. “Actually.” She looks at me now and then puts her head down. “He did say something. He said, ‘bunch of fucking pigs.’”

“Darlin’.” I lift her chin so she can see me. “You don’t have to relive it.”

“They threw me in a cell for fourteen hours,” she says, and she starts to shake. “Fourteen hours without one word. Nothing. I sat in there for fourteen hours, and all I could do was relive my whole life. And trust me, nothing about my life is good enough to relive, let alone think about for fourteen hours. Every single time I heard footsteps, my heart sped up, and I got my hopes up that someone, anyone was coming for me. But not one person showed up for me. The only ones who came to get me were two detectives. I was taken to a small office, and all I could think was what if they don’t believe me? What if they send me back to the cell, and no one comes for me?”

She puts her hand to her mouth before a sob comes out. I pull her to me, and I let her cry. Kissing her head, I want to say that I would have come for her. I would be there for her. I would have never let her sit in there for fourteen hours. I would have never let anything happen to her. But I swallow the words down. Instead, I do the only thing I can do. I hold her in my arms until she goes limp, the whole time making a checklist of the people who are going to suffer for all of this.

Chapter Eleven

Olivia

I feel so much heat around me, yet I can’t help but sink into it more. I open my eyes, seeing the sun peeking into the room, and I have to blink two or three times before I register that I’m in Casey’s room. As I look down at the arms around me, there is no mistaking that those belong to Casey.

Yesterday was pretty much a blur after he tried to kiss me. The whole night felt like a dream or, better yet, a nightmare. I went into Casey’s bathroom and literally fell to my knees. Rocking back and forth, I repeated the same

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