AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He struck the man across the face, splitting open his skin as precisely as a surgeon, and then followed up with the other hand which was holding - Jesus Christ - a brick.
The man's jaw broke with a crunch that Thomas could hear, though it was lost in another shriek from the waitress. She tried to launch herself at him, but the manager had already grabbed her as Thomas hauled Marcus back.
The man was back on the ground, holding his face, moaning.
Marcus managed to land a kick in his ribs before Thomas caught him about the chest, trying not to hurt him further, but Marcus was as oblivious as a pit bull who'd strangle himself if necessary to finish the job.
"Marcus," Thomas hissed. "Come on. We're going. Stop. Please stop. " Marcus throttled back his forward motion, but apparently he wasn't done yet. Even when angry or sarcastic, Marcus' voice was velvet and rich. But the voice that came out as dark and deadly as the night itself was almost guttural, someone Thomas didn't know. "The bottle is so we're even, you son of a bitch. The jaw is because I know what you did to me, you would have done to him. " He jerked his head, indicating Thomas.
"And that's how a New York street kid fights. Even a queer one. " With that, Marcus gave in to Thomas' urging and moved away from the rear of the restaurant, allowing Thomas to keep an arm around his back to support his steps. As Marcus gave him more of his weight after they turned the corner, Thomas hoped he hadn't made a mistake in refusing the manager's offer of an ambulance.
When they got to the car, Thomas saw they'd smeared something on the windshield. It looked like leavings from the garbage. From the smell, one of the
m had in fact urinated against the tire. Thomas was thankful they hadn't left the windows open or had the headlights smashed out, but he assumed with the car being in the front, that would have attracted too much attention.
Leaning Marcus against the car, he fished his keys out of the torn slacks without asking, his fingers brushing the bloody gash. Thomas felt tears sting his eyes. "Ah, Jesus. "
"Forget that. It's the ribs that feel like shit. Goddamn. I haven't had anyone sneak up on me in a fight in twenty years, and I get laid out by some redneck piece of shit in the middle of nowhere. " Marcus' arm wrapped around his midsection. "Can't draw a breath without it hurting. "
"We're getting you to a hospital. "
"No, you're taking me back to the house. I'll be fine. "
"Horseshit. " Thomas shook his head. "There was a hospital about five miles from here. We passed it on the way down and you know it. We're going. "
"No, we're not. I don't want to go there. They have a terrible reputation. They kill people who come in with nosebleeds. "
"You're lying. "
There was a stubborn set to Marcus' face, but Thomas didn't give a rat's ass. He stepped forward, bumped Marcus' toes.
"You're going. And you're not in a position to say no. " At the flash of fire in Marcus' eyes, Thomas changed tack. "You could have broken bones, a punctured organ. If not for you, do it for me. "
Marcus blew out a breath, winced as if even that caused him pain. Thomas suspected it did. "That was a low shot. "
"Whatever it takes," Thomas responded.
Marcus nodded, a resigned look coming to his eyes, shadows of things that Thomas didn't understand. "Fine. Let's go. "
Thomas helped him in the car, seeking something to change the suddenly tense atmosphere. "New York street kid? Was that the truth?" Marcus grunted. "Pretty, wasn't it? Just drive, Thomas. You do know how to drive something other than farm equipment and junk cars? It works about the same way. "
"The Maserati is like a small combine," Thomas retorted, but before he closed Marcus' door, he fished out some wet towelettes from the glove compartment. He pressed one to Marcus' jaw, his own flexing. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner. "
"There are no sorrys to be said on this one, pet. They're the only sorry ones. The world sucks sometimes. But a lot of times it doesn't. " Marcus managed a grin that looked gruesome and feral with the blood on his teeth. "Jesus, you kicked their asses sideways. I'm so impressed I'd be hard as a rock if I didn't feel like shit. Let's get the hell out of here. "
Chapter Fourteen
The small hospital only had two on call doctors. Those capable of walking in had to wait for the doctors to finish with the victims of a more serious car wreck that had come in before them. Fortunately, there was only one other walk-in, a four-year-old with a bad tummy ache. She was being held by her mother, who kept eyeing them suspiciously.
"Because we look like we've been in a gang fight," Thomas muttered.
When they first came in, the nurse had regarded them in the same manner. "You been in a fight?"
"No, a really competitive golf tournament," Marcus had said dryly. Thomas winced at the "fuck off and mind your own business" New York undertone. She'd thinned her lips and thrust the clipboard at Thomas. "Fill this out. " It had felt odd to help Marcus do that. His name, medical history. History of illness.
Though Marcus had claimed not applicable and "none" to most of it.
"I shouldn't have let you go out there by yourself. " Thomas stretched an arm over the back of the bolted plastic seats, grazing Marcus' shoulder. He didn't want to be rebuffed for hovering, but he needed the contact.
