Esky is back to barking so I run in the direction I think I can hear it. Fuck, it’s dark. The only light I have is the moon. I round the corner and see two silhouettes. And with the impeccable timing of Brent, he turns on his floodlight illuminating the grounds.
To show Trent has Morgan pinned up against the wall. His cock is out, but she’s doing her bestto fight.
I don’t think.
I tackle Trent to the ground. Brent runs to Morgan. I’m sitting on Trent’s chest swinging at his face, repeatedly. Davis and Beau appear and pull me off of him.
“Go to Morgan. Brent can’t reach her.” Davis tells me.
I look behind me and see Morgan is still swinging her arms around, tears streaming down her face.
“Don’t let that motherfucker go.” I point down to Trent, “Lock him in one of the sheds.”
They pick him up under the arms and drag him away while I move over to Morgan.
“Morgan, it’s me. See me. Please. It’s Rhys.” I repeat it, over and over, almost pleading with her until it looks like she’s coming back.
When her eyes seem more focused, I repeat it one more time “It’s me, see me. It’s Rhys, the asshole you love to hate.”
“I told you it’s more a dislike.” She croaks.
I can’t help the small chuckle that leaves me, half as a sigh she’s back, and half because even after that she can make a joke. A smile tugs at my lips. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”
And like that night almost two weeks ago I scoop her up, bridal style. Morgan doesn’t protest, just rests her head on my chest. I start to walk us to the house before remembering, “Esky, come.” I call over my shoulder but she’s already at my heels. I should have known.
Morgan doesn’t protest when I wash her face with a warm cloth. I look at her hands and wipe them. Seems she scratched him a few times. That’s my girl.
She even lets me lay her in her bed. I don’t move. I watch over her, listening to her breathe. Once her breathing evens out, signalling she’s asleep, I have one thought. But before Imake any decisions, I need legal advice. So, I call Shane. I need to know the ins and outs of what I’m potentially going to do. I don’t bother with pleasantries, going straight to the question,
“If someone were to go missing…”
He cuts me off by asking who. I rub my forehead; I feel a headache starting. I try to get him back on track, but he reframes the question. He adds emphasis to going “Who is going missing then?”
“Scum. Now let me finish, if they were last seen here at the station, what sort of evidence would there need to not be for anyone here to be a suspect.”
“What is happening?”
“Nothing,” I groan, for someone who talks mostly in grunts he sure as hell is asking a lot of probing questions. “Answer the question.”
“This is all hypothetical?”
“Of course.” No. I’m going to kill the fucker for hurting her. Feed him to the sharks. God knows there’s enough up here.
“Well, the big thing is obviously the body. No body, no evidence.” So, a shark feeding it is.
“And if they were seen here?”
“You’ll all be questioned at the very least, but again, no body or personal effects means no evidence.”
“Right, cool thanks mate.” So, a bonfire and a shark feeding. Check and check.
“Now tell me what happened.”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” I go to hang up, but he yells out my name.
“Tell me what the fuck is happening, or I’ll be on the nextflight.”
I take a deep breath before telling him, “Someone tried to hurt Morgan.”
