Read Online In The Absence Of Light by Adrienne Wilder - Free Book Online

is this?” He imitated Morgan’s tic.
    I got up.
    “Don’t.” I didn’t even notice Jessie beside me until he put his hand on my shoulder. “He’ll handle it.”
    “Well, he’s not handling it.”
    The truck driver brayed like a mule.
    For the first time in a long time, I itched to have a gun in my hand. “Either do something, Jessie, or I will.”
    Jessie curled his bottom lip and let loose with one of those ear-splitting whistles. The truck driver looked up. “Quit antagonizing my help.”
    “Your help? You call this help? No wonder I can’t get another beer. You got retards working for you.”
    No one deserved to be talked to that way. Definitely not Morgan. I started to walk over, and Morgan raised a hand at me.
    The truck driver jerked his head at Morgan, and to me, he said, “This your girlfriend.”
    By now, all eyes were on Morgan and the trucker, but no one said anything. No one stood up to help.
    “Fuck this.” I shook free of Jessie’s hold.
    Morgan lifted his chin, and his bangs slid back. In my line of business, I’ve worked with all kinds of people and I’ve met more than my share of stone-cold killers. Not because I wanted to but because it was business.
    Only on rare occasions was I ever in their sights since most of them were there to pick up a package or accompany a large money exchange and nothing more. But once you’ve been in the presence of walking, talking violence, you’re forced to realize some monsters are real.
    In that moment, that flavor of savagery rolled up at me from the depths of Morgan’s dark brown eyes. It was only a flicker, but it was enough to stop me in my tracks.
    He knelt down and began cleaning up the broken plates.
    The truck driver scuffed his boots across the mess, slopping food and bits of porcelain across Morgan’s apron. He moved on to picking up the silverware.
    Patrons went back to staring into their glasses or watching TV. When Morgan had the last large shard tossed into the bin, he picked it up.
    I’m not sure if the truck driver was looking to pick on someone the size of one of his legs or trying to show off. I don’t think it was to impress his girlfriend; she was slumped over her mixed drink and hamburger.
    Either way, the trucker grabbed Morgan’s arm.
    “All hell,” Jessie hissed.
    Before I could get a foot off the ground, before I could shout out a threat to the son of a bitch truck driver, Morgan snatched up a shard of broken plate from the bin. The crash of broken dishes brought the room to another standstill, leaving the sad song of some lost love to serenade the trucker as he stared at the length of plate jutting out of his palm.
    Jessie waved at one of the waitresses. “Call an ambulance.”
    A high-pitched keen broke through the pause. Morgan balled up both fists close to his head. He turned like he wanted to run only to rock back. A tight grimace marred his face, and he shut his eyes so tight it made creases at the corners.
    I ran over.
    Jessie nodded at the trucker, still staring at his hand. “Make him sit before he faints.”
    I didn’t give a rat’s ass if he fainted. As far as I was concerned, someone needed to push his ass into a ditch. I did as Jessie asked.
    “He stabbed me. The little retard stabbed me.” The trucker showed me his hand. A trickle of blood cut a path down his arm and soaked the cuff of his flannel shirt.
    “Yeah, well, you deserved it.” I never claimed to have good bedside manners. I lifted his arm. “Hold it up.”
    “I’m gonna sue the little shit. I’m gonna sue this whole fucking place.”
    “And shut your piehole before I stuff the napkin dispenser down your throat.”
    “Look at me, Morgan.” Jessie made an attempt to cup Morgan’s face. “C’mon, son, look at me.”
    Morgan jerked away.
    “It wasn’t your fault.” Jessie pulled him back. “You hear me, this was not your fault.”
    Now there was more blood and drama here than on TV, the patrons inched closer.
    Jessie waved them