“It’s getting dark,” Zander said. “Eli is waiting in the van. I’m going to carry you out.”
“No, I don’t think so, buddy.” She stepped back, holding up her hands. Webb had bandaged her wrists and cleaned up any cuts she’d let him near. She’d refused to remove any of her clothing and had only drawn her top up so he could check her ribs. For someone who claimed to have no medical background, he was actually pretty competent.
“I can walk.”
“You’re injured and need rest. I’m going to carry you.”
“Besides, that will stop you from trying anything.” Honey smiled wide at her.
Right. Got it.
“Because I was totally going to make a run for it,” Keira said sarcastically. She barely had the energy to make it to the bathroom. How far could she possibly get? Did they think she was stupid?
Well, you did get involved with Carl, so . . .
Fuck it.
“Get her stuff, then let’s move out,” Zander commanded.
Her stuff? She spotted Honey grabbing her bag. She unzipped it.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she demanded as the other woman went through her belongings. She tried to move over to her, prepared to fight her to the death. That was all that she owned in the world and that bitch thought she got to steal from her? What was she even planning on doing?
Zander grasped hold of her arm. Fear flooded her, making it hard to breathe as the world around her spun.
Breathe.
She needed to breathe.
She had no idea of what happened next, but when she came back to herself, she was sitting on the floor with her legs pressed up against her chest, which was putting excruciating pressure on her ribs and poor body.
Her arms were around her legs, and she was curled up into herself. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs and it took a long time for any sound to register.
When it did, she realized that Zander was kneeling next to her, his cerulean eyes bright with anger and something else . . . something that looked like concern.
But she told herself that it wasn’t. That it couldn’t be.
“You’re okay. You’re all right, Little Thief,” he murmured to her in a soft voice that she hadn’t realized he was capable of. For the first time, that nickname didn’t piss her off.
“Good, you’re coming back. You can hear me?” he asked in a calm, cool voice.
“Y-yes. What happened?” She glanced around, but it seemed like only the two of them were in here.
“Seemed like you had a flashback,” he told her. “Likely to when Kansas did this to you.” His eyes flashed with his words and she swallowed heavily, tensing as she saw how angry he was. Then he took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “I’m not angry at you, Little Thief.”
“I know. I just . . . I feel . . .” How did she feel? Shaky? Out of it? Ill?
Everything was crashing down on her, and it was almost more than she could bear.
“I . . . it’s like I blacked out,” she whispered, scared. “I’ve never done anything like that before and this isn’t the first . . .” she trailed off as she realized what she’d been about to say.
“This isn’t the first what?” he demanded.
She flinched.
“Mother fucking son of a bitch,” he swore. “This isn’t the first time he’s beaten you?”
“What? Oh, no, Carl hasn’t beaten me before today.”