6
Mercy
By the timeI was done, my shoulders were aching, my bandaged wound burning, and the weariness seemed to have sunk into my bones. It wasn’t as if I’d gotten the best of sleep last night. As I straightened up and stretched, my back protested. I collapsed on the sofa that I’d just finished wiping off.
I looked down at my borrowed T-shirt. I’d gotten water splashed on it, bits of debris were sticking to it, and I was pretty sure the stink from the room had sunk right through it all the way to my skin. I needed a shower, stat.
I gave the room one last look before I left. The carpet was unmarked, if a bit damp, and all the furniture clean, the garbage bags set to the side since I didn’t know where they went. I couldn’t see any reason for Wylder to complain. No, I enjoyed imagining the smirk falling off his face when he realized I’d handled it all without faltering once.
As I climbed up the stairs, Gideon stalked right past me, his eyes glued to his tablet screen. I was abruptly aware of just how tightly—and kind of see-through-ly—my shirt was clinging to my chest. I folded my arms over the most questionable spots, and the movement drew his gaze.
He glanced at my arms over my chest and then at my face, with a distant air as if he wasn’t totally sure who I was. Without speaking, he walked on. Alrighty then. It wasn’t as if I needed his attention.
The bathroom Kaige had shown me before contained a narrow but perfectly serviceable shower stall. I soaked under the steaming hot water for several minutes, rubbing the expensive-smelling soap someone had left in a cabinet all over me, until I was sure I’d gotten the last traces of grime off.
My bandage ended up soaked—oops. I peeled it off carefully and examined the stitched-up flesh underneath. The line of the gunshot wound glared starkly red against my pale skin, but a scab was already forming along it. I dug through the drawers until I found a half-empty tube of antiseptic and a roll of gauze, smeared most of the rest of the tube over the wound, and then wrapped a few layers of gauze around my arm. That’d have to do.
I grimaced, tugging my still-grimy shirt back over my head, but when I returned to the guest bedroom Wylder had set me up in, a fresh tee and sweats lay on the bed. I looked around, but there wasn’t anybody here.
The only people who might have noticed the state of my clothes were those leering jerks who’d been talking smack about Wylder and Kaige… and Gideon. Had he sent someone to make sure I had something halfway decent to wear? The thought that he’d have bothered was flattering and uncomfortable at the same time. I didn’t like accepting favors any more than Wylder liked giving them out.
Too often, it turned out there were strings attached.
Since I’d fled the restaurant last night, I’d been living moment to moment. I had to start thinking more clearly about the future. And part of that meant figuring out how to take care of myself so Wylder wouldn’t have any grounds to call me a burden.
As I changed into the clean clothes, I moved my engagement ring and the cocaine-scented fifties from one pocket to another. The sight of the ring made my jaw clench, but Kaige was right. I’d left my purse behind in the restaurant; everything else I owned was in the Katz house that Colt would have thoroughly swept by now. This was the only thing of value I had left, so I had to use it. It’d definitely give me enough cash to buy plenty of essentials so I wasn’t relying on Noble charity or scavenging drug money.
There was just one thing I couldn’t replace with cash. I’d find a way to get that back as soon as I could. The fifties should even pay my way. The rest… The less I thought about my old life, the better.
My stomach rumbled. It had to be way past lunch, and I’d recovered enough from the stink to rediscover my appetite.
I made my way back to the kitchen without running into any of the guys. Sighing with relief, I headed for the fridge. I wouldn’t be surprised if Wylder walked in and demanded I get started on his next task for me. If I didn’t get anything into my stomach first, I’d probably hit him in his stupidly perfect face.
I found some leftover pasta in the refrigerator and put it in the microwave to heat. While I waited, a girl I vaguely remembered from the party walked in. It was the blonde who’d been shimmying on the edge of the pool table I’d just cleaned.
The look on her face was of absolute fury. As she came to a stop in front of me, planting her hands on her hips, I could feel the venom coming off her in waves. How the hell could she hate me that much when I had no idea who she even was?
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded.
I blinked at her innocently. “What do you mean?”
She sneered. “I meanhere. In this kitchen, in this house. You were at the party last night, weren’t you? Why didn’t you leave? Do you want me to show you the way out?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m a guest,” I said.
She looked down at my modest T-shirt and smirked. Her own deep V-neck top was skintight and dipped practically to her nipples. “If you’re going to try and seduce the guys, that’s not going to work.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good thing I have no interest in seducing them then.”
She scowled. “I know girls like you. But trust me, they don’t last here very long.”
What exactly was her problem? “I don’t give a flying fuck about what you think of me,” I said. “You’re welcome to try to kick me out, but somehow I think you’ll find yourselfknockedout instead. Give it a shot.”
The girl gaped at me in disbelief. The microwave pinged, announcing my food was ready. I dipped into the slightest of mocking curtsies. “Now if you will excuse me…”
I tried to move toward the microwave, but she blocked my path. “No way.”
Annoyance crept in. She was wasting my time—and getting between me and my food. I’d dealt with plenty of girls like her all through high school: all talk, no action. If she really wanted a fight, I was happy to give her one. But I didn’t think she’d enjoy the result.