“What did you feel when you found out he wasn’t really raping her?”
I blink in her direction. This woman isn’t pulling any punches, is she?
“You don’t have to answer out loud, but maybe in your head. Really dig deep and try to determine that emotion, what you felt in that second.”
“Anger,” I say automatically. “I was mad.”
“Were you mad because you were lied to, that you believed something that wasn’t real or because he was having sex with another woman?”
I clench my jaw closed, and from the look in her eyes, I can tell she knows the answer without me even having to say it out loud.
“I’m so fucked up,” I whisper.
“You’re not. I promise.”
“Is it Stockholm syndrome?”
“I honestly couldn’t tell you. I don’t know that a year of weekly therapy sessions could answer that question either. Thumper isn’t a bad guy even though for the last couple of weeks, we all thought he was. I mean the guys don’t talk to us, but it wasn’t hard to figure out the correlation between him being gone and everyone being put on lockdown. You aren’t the only one around here who is going to struggle with his choices. That’s if you want to be here if he comes back.”
I hate the word if, but I’m not so delusional to think that there won’t be the possibility that he’s already dead. The bodies in that house were proof enough that human life isn’t valued by the men who went through and killed everyone there.
“Ivy offered to let me stay across the street with her and Griffin.”
“And you want to? Please, don’t feel bad for accepting anything someone around here offers if it’s what you want. They aren’t making you a charity case or feeling sorry for you. They genuinely want to help and make you comfortable. I grew up with two loving parents, and the people around here love me just as much. It’s an amazing thing to witness, but it’s indescribable when they welcome you into that fold.”
“I may go over there. I don’t want to be uncomfortable around him, but I also don’t want to force my proximity on him either.”
“That’s commendable.”
“Can I ask you one more question?”
“Sure.”
“When you were gone, were there any men that were nice, like they didn’t take advantage or hurt others?”
She shakes her head. “Not a single one. Every man I encountered in Florida was out for themselves. They didn’t bat an eye taking what they wanted when they wanted it.”
I nod in understanding, wondering if Angel was part of Javier’s team as well. I focus back on my eggs, knowing I won’t eat them, but wishing I had something else to distract me from the memories of seeing his body in the middle of the living room.
Chapter 26
Thumper
“Everything hurts,” I groan, my eyes squeezed tight against the bright overhead lights.
“More pain meds?”
I open my eyes to tiny slits to see the man sitting beside the bed I’m lying in.
“Prez? I mean Kin-Diego?” I don’t have a right to call him my president, and I doubt he’ll appreciate me calling him by his club name.
“Do you need more pain meds?”
I shake my head, unsure if he’s thinking of giving me a lethal dose. The only reason he would be treating my injuries is so he can fuck me up even more once I heal.
“You sure? We’re about to move you out of here, and that’s really going to suck if we don’t have a handle on the pain.”
“Where am I going?” I manage, my lips dehydrated and sore.
“Back to New Mexico,” Kincaid explains. “We’re in Mexico City. Flew in two days ago to make sure you were stable, but the doctors said you’d be safe to travel. You know how much we hate being out of the country.”
They hate being away from their women, which I didn’t understand until I spent days pacing around my office with Cara in the basement. How fucked up is that? She wasn’t my woman on any level, unless you count the fact that I literally bought and owned her.
Thinking of it doesn’t matter. She’s gone. I try to clear my throat, an attempt to shove away the emotion threatening to make me sob like a fucking baby.
“You’ve been on a constant IV drip since we pulled you out, but you’re going to have to actually drink if your throat is still sore and dry. Here, let me help you.”
I stare down at the plastic cup and straw he’s holding in front of my lips before looking back up to him.
“Is it poison?”
Kincaid gives me a smile and shrugs. “It’s water, and we’re in Mexico, so maybe.”
I huff.
“Just kidding. This is bottled water. Here, take a drink.”
I take a long sip, the desperation to drink too great to keep myself from wrapping my lips around the straw and sucking despite the chance that he’s lying, and it really is poison.