I’m not my brother. I have no medical training except the stuff we learned in the backyard over years of skateboarding on a homemade halfpipe. We sliced ourselves up plenty. Broken bones. Split lips. Lots of crying and limping. But more often than not, the guys were there, too. And being the caring big brothers they are, they took care of any injuries in secret before our parents realized how careless we were being.
But now it’s just me, and with his blood already on my fingers, I go in search of a pulse on his strong throat. The way his head snapped to the side after that final hit, the way his legs dropped away, and the way they twitched, all triggers a muscle spasm that threatens a surge of vomit at what I might find. It all strangles my heart until finally, my fingers find a strong bub-bump in his neck, and my breath races out on a cry.
He’s a criminal.
He’s a bad man.
Him dying would probably make my life easier. At the very least, it’ll remove a barrier in our quest to nab Abel; and yet, my stomach knots over the thought of him in pain.
Alone in the dark with my unconscious hero, my blood slows when the two men from earlier step out of the shadows with a swagger and filthy grins. One of them pops gum between dirty teeth. The other flips a pocket knife.
Open.
Closed.
Open.
Closed.
The silver blade slides in and out of the handle, taunting me and reflecting off a streetlight in the distance. “Hey there, beautiful. We meet again.”
Kane’s weight on my legs both comforts and panics me. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up, Kane.” Ignoring the tweak of pain in my ribs, I work to get my arms under his heavy chest and pull him up. Tapping his face harder than I should, my breathing turns shallow and makes me lightheaded as the men move closer. “Wake up, Kane. Right now. I need your help. Please help me.” The men creep closer. “I shouldn’t have come out here. You shouldn’t be unconscious. Wake up, Kane.” My words are barely more than a whisper; I refuse to give the men the pleasure of hearing my panicked words. They just see me holding myboyfriend. They see he’s unconscious, but they have no clue the panic rushing through my blood.
Do they?
“Need a hand, darlin’? He’s out, but we could show you a good time.”
“Kane!” I slam my fist against his chest, cruel, like his opponent, but I’m furious that he’s unconscious. For the first time in my life, I want a hero, and he’s not here. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. I need you to wake up.” I slap his bloodied cheek, already puffy from the fight; his eye is swollen closed, and his lip is cut through from his teeth. I should feel bad for hitting him, but with his blood on my hands and his unconscious body in my arms, I’m furious that he was right.
He said not to come back, but I did, and now I’m scared.
“Darlin’.” I recoil away from the hand on my shoulder. Goosebumps break out along my skin and my ribs ache at the hammering of my heart.
Kane’s not waking. He can’t save me, so I shoot to my feet and stand up to the men that reek of body odor and sex. I stand with my back to Kane and pretend I’m braver than I actually am. “You can leave.” I jut my chin forward in defiance and look down my nose, though both men are taller than me. “Go away. Kane’s resting after his big fight.”
“Resting?” The front man, the only one who seems to have a voice, laughs, sending rank breath into my lungs. The stench knocks me back a step until my heel rests against Kane’s ribs.
He’s so close.
Yet so far away.
“He had a fight tonight, but we’re going home now. I don’t need your help.”
Sucking on his own tongue, the man’s eyes slide along my body in a way that genuinely feels like a physical touch. “Need me to squeeze the pussy juice outta your snatch, then?” He giggles and bounces his head on his shoulders. “I could show you a good time. What’s that sayin’, Fred?” He doesn’t spare a single glance for his friend – forFred– but his eyes remain on mine, on my lips, on the cleavage peeking out from my sundress.“Ya snooze, ya lose.I’m no wordsmith. I don’t write poems for a livin’, but fuck, I know it goes something like that.”
“Get away from us.” Bending, I snatch up my dropped cell and open the screen to Alex’s contact. I don’t want to tell the police where I am. I won’t get arrested for being here – I don’t think – but Iwillget a big brother talk. I’ll be scolded for putting myself in danger, but as much as I don’t want to do it, I won’t risk my life or Kane’s. “I’m on a first name basis with the cops. You want them raiding this place tonight?”
He scoffs. “You’re a dumb shit if you think I give a fuck. Call the cops, pretty pussy. I’ll fuck you before they get here, then I’ll do what I do best; I’ll disappear into the shadows and my bastard son will tear your pussy apart in nine months. Like father like son.” He noisily licks his lips. “We like the pussy.”
I step forward with more bravado than I feel and slam my palms against his chest. “Disappear? You didn’t disappear!”Please wake up, Kane!“I saw you out front, you know that, right? Even when you ‘disappeared’, I still saw you.” I shove a second time and ignore the blade in his left hand. “Stupid ass uneducated fool. You suck at the thing youdobest. This untrained, never-had-to-learn-to-look-out-for-idiots-like-you,blondeoffice worker could still see you. How are you not already dead or in prison? Is Fred the brains in your friendship? You’re the mouth with rotten breath. He’s the brains. Neither of you got the beauty.”
With a terrifying roar, the man picks me up with surprising strength and slams my back against the dirty brick wall. The breath explodes from my lungs, but I get no chance to replace it before he presses a strong hand against my throat and cuts off my airway. He moves in close enough that his rancid breath bathes my lips. “Listen here, you little cunt. Around here, men are king and women are pussy. That’sallyou are. Now, you get to be fucked by me.ThenFred. Let’s see which one of us can make you bleed. We’ll use you so fast, my hand on your throat won’t matter.” Tears stream along my cheeks when he leans in and runs his tongue along my jaw. “Can you breathe, baby?”
I kick out wildly, connecting with his shins in an attempt to hurt him. My lungs burn with need, and my hands claw at the single arm holding me off the ground.
Just like three nights ago, the sound of a belt buckle makes my stomach revolt. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. I can’t even tell him no.
With the pressure building in my head, my skull shrinks, crushing my brain. Blood roars in my ears and my tongue goes desert dry when he transfers his knife so the handle digs painfully into my throat.