Page 22 of Ballistic

The bed stood empty.

The flutter of curtains had my attention shooting toward the window, propped wide open.

“Fuck!” I darted across the room and slammed into the window ledge, before peering down the fire escape, where Nicoleta hobbled along each stair below, in nothing but my oversized T-shirt.

The moment she hit the alley, she tripped and fell to her knees, but she got back up, stumbling into a weak jog. I spun around and nabbed a hoodie I’d left on the chair the night before.

The cracked wooden frame scraped across my back as I hopped through the window in nothing but my pants. At a run, I rounded each stairwell, leaping from landing to landing, until I hit the last and vaulted over the railing onto the wet pavement. Rain pummeled my eyes like tiny bullets, as I came around the building, gaze darting left then right. Through the shadowy night, I caught sight of her a block up, and sprinted down the sidewalk toward her.

“Nicoleta! Nicoleta!” My bare feet pounded against the wet cement. I caught up her at the mouth of the next alley, and screams echoed through the streets when I gripped tight to her shoulders.

She wriggled and squirmed as I banded an arm around her. “Let me go! Help! Somebody, help!”

Slapping a hand over her mouth, I tucked the hoodie under my arm and nudged her into the dark alley, where I pinned her up against the wall. “I’m not going to hurt you. Understand?”

“You’re … planning to sell me!” she screamed over the top of my restraining hand.

Confusion hit me, and the undoubtedly dumbfounded look on my face must’ve settled her fight because some of the spit and fire dimmed in her eyes. I lowered my hand, realizing why she’d resisted me so much. “What?”

“The doctor. Sh-sh-she examined me, right? You’re selling me?”

“The fu—no.” Tightening my grip on her arm, I shook my head. “No, I’m not selling you.”

“Then, what’s the tattoo all about? On your arm?”

Should’ve realized she’d have seen the same mark on the bastards who’d abused her all those months. “Look, I’ll explain everything. I promise. But I need to get you warm and back in bed.”

“You okay, Miss?” The man I recognized from the party store stood at the entrance of the alley, his posture stiff and fists balled in defense.

She looked up at me for a second, then nodded, much to my relief. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

With her second nod, he disappeared back around the corner.

I wrapped the zip hoodie around her before lifting her up into my arms.

Shivering and curled into my chest, she weighed almost nothing, as I carried her back to the fire escape and up the stairs to the window. Wet rain puddled on the floor when she climbed inside, and I followed after her.

“T-t-tell me,” she stuttered, as I settled her into the bed, pulling the blankets up over her.

“I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not selling you. I give you my word. Get some rest. In the morning, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Everything?”

Standing over her, I nodded and pushed a strand of hair from her face so I could see her eyes. “Everything.”

9

Nicoleta

Shadows of passing cars danced across the wall I stared off at, desperate for sleep. Without my pills, that’d be impossible. A craving hooked my stomach, yanking down into my thighs, and radiated through my muscles. Deep and brimming, with the kind of ache that wasn’t necessarily painful, but unrelenting.

I needed something.

Through a dizzy haze, I rose to my feet and tiptoed across the bedroom to the door. I’d seen him carrying a bottle of those pills. He’d given them to me in small doses during my withdrawals, and I had to believe they were somewhere in the apartment.

I slunk down the hall, stopping at an opened bedroom door on the right. Inside, Dax lay on his stomach, face buried into a pillow stuffed beneath his massive tattooed bicep.