The roaring of bikes followed by a couple trucks make me light-headed. I clutch the steering wheel, watching the mirrors as lights approach and whizz past us. I can feel my heartbeat in every inch of my body as I wait to see if they keep driving. “They bought it,” I breathe, tears burning my eyes. I hadn’t allowed the absolute fear to set in until right now. If they find us, I’ll be the one strung up naked. Waiting a few minutes, I pull out of the trees and continue on the road in the opposite direction.
I did it.
I got us out.
Chapter Six
Carnage
Fire burns in my gut. Sweat sticks to my flesh. I’m overheating. My eyes spring open, staring up at a ceiling fan. Every muscle screams beneath my skin when I try to move. I’m on a carpet in a house I don’t recognize, a knitted blanket thrown over me. “Oh my god, you’re awake.” The worried eyes of the girl who drugged me come into view as she drops to her knees before me, her warm hand resting on my shoulder. “You passed out and I couldn’t move you.”
I dart my hand out and capture her throat, the effort tearing at my wounds. “You drugged me,” I growl, rage blinding me.
Her small hands beat at my arm in an attempt to free herself. I know I should stop. I know she’s not the enemy. But she made me weak. She whips her hand out, jabbing me in one of my stab wounds, sending a blast of pain piercing through my abdomen. “Bitch!” I roar, shoving her away from me.
Coughing and spluttering, she glares at me with wide, giant fucking eyes, her hands rubbing where I had her neck. “Asshole,” she snaps. “I saved your fucking ass back there.”
“You drugged me, bitch,” I growl, livid I let this happen. Lifting the blanket, I check the wounds. A generic Band-aid covers them, red blood stains soaking the flimsy material.
“I cleaned them and put those on. I didn’t have anything else.” She shrugs her shoulders, her brows lowered.
She really just stuck a Band-aid on stab wounds. “It needs stitches,” I croak. My mouth is dry as fuck. “Where the fuck are we?” The carpet has some weird swirling flower pattern. The couch is covered in plastic wrap. Walls a burnt orange. We’ve time-warped to the sixties.
“My sister’s grandparents. They’re away on vacation. It’s the only place I could think to come.” She looks pale, watching me.
“Why did you help me?” I ask, confused by her actions.
Reaching for a cup of water, she leans over and hands it to me, making sure to keep her throat out of reach. “Because I didn’t want your death on my conscience.” She’s changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair is now tied back, giving me a better look at her pretty face. A small scattering of freckles skim across her nose. Her eyes are a steel gray, framed by arched brows. Those fucking lips are thick cock cushions.
“How the hell did you end up working for those pricks?” I touch my finger to the wound, hissing from the pain shooting across my groin and down my legs.
“I don’t work for them. I owed them. Well…not me, my mother.” She looks embarrassed, her cheeks heating. Pushing off the carpet, she sits her ass on the couch. Clasping her hands together, she leans her forearms on her thighs. “They’re going to be looking for me too now. We need to lay low.”
I was set up by someone in my own club. There’s a rat. I don’t know who the fuck I can trust. “I’m going to need to stitch these wounds.”
“Yourself?” She blanches.
“You’ll have to help me,” I inform her.
Worry furrows her brow. “I’m not good with that stuff.” She shakes her head, scrunching her nose up.
“We need alcohol, a sewing kit, a lighter, and…” I lift the blanket to look at my junk still out on display, “maybe some clothes.”
She snaps her teeth together, her lips peeling back. “All that’s here is old man stuff,” she says like I give a fuck.
“If it covers my dick, it will be fine.” I’d wear her fucking clothes at this point. Hanging naked being threatened with rape is a new one for me. I need to regroup and be clothed doing it.
She drops her eyes to my crotch and raises a brow. “It might not cover it,” she says under her breath.
If I hadn’t lost a shit ton of blood, I might find her taking notice of the size of my cock more amusing. “What’s your name?” I ask, trying to maneuver myself off the floor, my hand unsteady, spilling some of the water from the mug as I slide it onto the coffee table.
“Ruby.” She reaches for me, helping me sit my ass on the seat while holding the blanket across my lap.