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Zane said something that made Twin A laugh a little too hard right before he climbed into the back of the van, leaving Maliki to carry on their inside conversation.
"Oh, definitely, but you don't ever have to worry about Zane cheating on you."
Her long, uncharacteristic pause had me glancing over in concern.
"Ads?" I questioned quietly. If this man had cheated on her, his dick was about to find itself smashed into his stomach.
"He hasn't," she quickly replied. "I just wouldn't hold my breath on that."
She didn't get a chance to go into detail, and for that, I was partially grateful. This wasn't the time or place to have that kind of discussion.
There was a soft gasp, and then the few people who had come
over stepped back with the same look of disgust written across their faces.
The smell of intense body odor and vomit had me going forward, shouldering a man with a spiked mohawk out of my way.
Zane handed off our panhandler, who was so drenched in sweat that his shoulder-length hair had begun to curl. A fedora hung around his neck by a thin string, and traces of pale puke lingered in a graying beard.
Buddy wasn't a tall man. He had maybe an inch or two on Addy and I. He was missing one of his mentioned cowboy boots, and the wound on the corner of his head was still trickling blood.
"Let's get him to the OR," Zane said, keeping hold of one arm.
Maliki held the other, and they set off across the parking lot. "Search the van for anything useful, and then burn it," he ordered mohawk guy as they went by.
Neither of us being told to come with them, I nudged Addie's arm and trailed after the small group on my own.
"Do you think he really means an operating room?" she asked.
"Uh, do nursing homes usually have things like that?"
She responded with a shrug.
We walked the expanse of the parking lot and entered the brick building through a side door, our group shrinking to the original six as Zane shooed everyone else off. The hall we stepped into was lined with various sized cardboard boxes, but otherwise, it was clean.
"Get that door," Zane directed at Greer.
He jogged ahead, doing as he was told. There was a miserable creak as old wood gave away under pressure, and I was staring into a room with cracked tile walls and a stone floor.
Zane and Maliki continued right on through, practically dragging Buddy along since his legs suddenly didn't work. He'd remained quiet up to this point, but he began yelling as soon as he was pulled over the threshold.
Once Addy and I got inside, Trix pulled the door closed, shutting the six of us inside with the now hysterical panhandler.
A colorful variety of sonsofbitches, pussies, and a few creative death threats all came flying from his mouth, along with spittle and the revelation of a slightly southern accent.
"You can't do this to me! You don't know who you're fucking with. Just like your daddy, dumb as hell!"
Unsure if he was speaking to Maliki or Zane, Addy and I shared a quick look.
"Let's get him in the chair," Zane suggested, ignoring the taunts completely.
Using his boot, Maliki spun a chair that looked as if it belonged in a salon, and then helped slam Buddy down onto it.
"Nyx, grab the chains from the corner," he demanded, throwing an elbow into Buddy's nose when his struggling intensified.
A bellow erupted, echoing through the air, and blood jetted from upturned nostrils.
"Hold still," Zane grumbled, barely batting an eyelid as some landed on his shoulder.
