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One of his brows went up before he gave me an small smile. “I might let my women sell themselves,” he started oddly, “but I don't fucking put my hands on them.”
“A pimp with morals,” I said, attempting a smile, but it hurt too much. “Color me surprised.”
“Just sayin',” he went on, not seeming the least bit offended, “that shit don't fly. We see him, they're identifying him by dental records.”
I looked down at my hands, feeling weak for the first time in thirteen years. I didn't like it. It didn't sit right. “Kick the fucker's teeth in too,” I mumbled, a little surprised at the vengeance in my voice. That wasn't me. I didn't go into things hot. I never let my feelings cloud a mission. That wasn't to say I didn't get angry, I didn't get bone-deep livid at some of the stuff I had seen, but I always took that and kept it locked up so I could be clear-headed.
“Here,” I heard someone say, and I heard the rustling of a plastic bag and looked up to see the kid I sent to the store coming up, holding out the bag.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the bag from him and carefully sliding my legs into the car. “Can one of you go grab my cell off the floor inside? I'll give you my number. You get him? You call me. I'll be by with the money once I make sure its the right body.”
“Slick got a picture,” the leader told me. “We'll make sure we got the right guy before we kill him,” he said, giving me an odd smile.
“Alright,” I said, slipping my key into the ignition as someone came back with my cell. I rattled off the number, gave them a small nod, then got the fuck out of there.
It was nearing the latest part of the night, or earliest part of the morning, depending on whether you slept or not. The gas station was long abandoned and the guy behind the counter inside had his feet propped up, watching some rerun on the TV, his back to me. I pulled up to the bathroom and dragged myself inside. Taking as deep a breath as my aching ribs would allow, I looked up into the mirror.
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled, shaking my head at my reflection. I wasn't particularly a vain woman, but I knew there was going to be a scar or two. My left eye was swollen, but not to the point of closing. My right eye was blackened so bad it looked like it was the effect of poorly applied makeup. My nose, bleeding. My cheek, bruised and bleeding. My jaw, bruised. I reached down, lifting my shirt and tucking it up under my bra.
The bruising was just starting, a smattering of deep purple and blue. I sucked in a breath, trying to gauge if they were broke, cracked, or just bruised. I decided on cracked, eternally the optimist and ever the hater of hospitals, and started the long, slow, painful process of binding them up.
Finished, I pushed my shirt back down and set to cleaning my face. I watched my eyes in reflection, knowing what I had to do. And hating it. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was shame. But whatever it was, made a coiling sensation tighten in my stomach.
“It's the only way,” I said into the quiet of the room, my voice echoing back to me, trying to will myself to believe it.I went into my car and waited for sunrise then I drove there with a pit in my stomach.
By the time I pulled up to the gate, I was ready to crawl out of my skin.
I tried to climb out of my car without wincing, failed, but walked up to the men outside the gate like I wasn't half-broken, like I could raise all kinds of hell if I needed to. Before I was even half-way there, one of the probates was running inside to, presumably, find someone with more authority to deal with me.
“Whoa whoa whoa... dunno what you are doing...” one of the probates started, obviously not knowing who I was.
“I need to talk to Reign.”
“Listen, lady...” he started again.
“He owes me. I am calling it in.”
“I don't know who you...”
“My name is Lo,” I said, my voice getting loud. “I fucking saved Summer and Reign owes me. This is me calling it in!” I was shouting and I was too hurt, too tired, and too embarrassed to care.
I heard the crunching of shoes as the other guy came back with, I hoped, Reign.
“Lo?”
Oh, shit.
Anyone, literally fucking anyone but him...
I sucked in a breath, pulled my shoulders back, tucked my pride away, and turned.SevenCashI had barely gotten four hours of rest when someone was pounding on my fucking door at the compound.
“Someone better be fucking dead,” I growled, climbing out of bed while pulling jeans up my legs. I swung open the door, eyes still adjusting to being awake. “What?” I asked the probate whose name I hadn't thought to ask yet.
“There's some woman at the gate saying she's calling in a favor Reign owes her.”
I felt my lips quirk up. “Reign owes some chick a favor?” I asked, reaching for a tee out of my dresser, slipping into my shoes, then following him into the hall. “This I got to see.”
“This is me calling it in!” a familiar voice screamed and I felt the lazy smirk turn into a full-on grin. Lo. Lo was calling in her favor. And I got to be the one to deal with her. Maybe that was good enough reason to lose a few hours of sleep.
“Lo?” I asked, my tone amused as I moved through the gate the probate opened for me.
Her shoulders squared, no doubt less than thrilled to hear my voice, which only made my smile widen.
But then she turned to me fully and the smile fell away with what felt like a kick to my gut. Her gorgeous face was fucking... brutalized. Her eyes swollen and blackened, bruises were darkening over her cheeks and jaw. There were cuts where fists must have landed multiple times. She winced as she took a step forward, making my eyes fall to her torso where you could see the unmistakable bulge of elastic wrappings through her tight t-shirt.
