Page 9 of Ballistic

“Hedonic, from the looks of it.” A much deeper, richer voice answered the first, and the instinctive tightening of my muscles reminded me I’d grown wary of men with naturally threatening tones like his. “We’ll have to leave her strapped until she settles down a bit.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides, the pressure against my wrists keeping me from striking out.

As weak as I’d become, my body still found the strength to mount a fight.

“Huh. Thought that shit made them all … cuddly and eager. Supposed to have a mild comedown.”

“Maybe she mistook you for something else.”

“Like what?”

“Punching bag?”

What felt like a barbed wrecking ball slammed into my stomach, and I arced up off the bed again. Every nerve in my body became a receptacle for pleasure, my clothes scratching across them, a torment. But the pain in my gut felt as if someone had shoveled out a hole and not bothered to fill it with anything, leaving me craving. “Ah, God!”

I needed my pills. I’d never survive the withdrawals that I’d been told were worse than heroin, or the threat of sobriety on the other side. “Please! Vinco, please!”

“Hey, relax, sweetheart.” It wasn’t Vinco who answered, but the deep, gravelly voice from before. Warm hands smoothed down my face, a path of tingles in their wake. The pressure in my sinuses felt like a watermelon on the verge of exploding. “I’m going to make the pain go away, okay?”

That voice. Like an angel’s. So soothing, I didn’t trust that I hadn’t fallen into some wicked hallucination of death. It seduced my ears, and when he said, “Open your mouth, baby,” I arched again with the desire for those hands to touch me once more.

I hated that my body moved on command, doing as he said. Baby, he’d called me. I focused on that, as he set the salty object onto my tongue. A bubbly sensation popped against my taste buds, and warmth flooded my muscles, casting off the chaos in them from a moment ago.

“You’re giving her drugs? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose?” the first voice asked.

“You don’t quit Hedonic cold turkey. It would kill her. Cut the dose in half each time, until it levels out.” Something soft brushed against the base of my nose. “Looks like she’s had a little nose candy, too.”

“What are you, Doctor Feelgood?”

“Been through the withdrawals. Shit’s not pretty. Used to be just a vape juice the college yuppies would smoke. Pills made it more convenient to sell. Mixed with other shit that make it hard to kick.”

“Whyn’t you take her to a hospital? That cut on her leg looks pretty nasty.”

I’d forgotten about the cut on my thigh, where the metal door of the storage unit had scraped across it in my failed attempt to escape. Vinco had caught me, of course, and the drugs I’d been given afterward had dulled the pain.

“Don’t trust the hospitals, or the cops right now. Tesarik’s going to come after her, I have no doubt about that. I got someone I know. She can check her out.”

A moan leaked past my lips as I settled into the cool softness that welcomed me like clouds. I smiled, stretching like a cat sprawled in the sunshine, the heat warming my cheeks.

“That’s better, yeah?”

His deep voice rippled down my spine along with the drugs, only adding to the bliss of my high. Eyes still closed, I purred in response, and rubbed my knees together, the smooth cotton fabric between them creating just enough friction to feel something.

“That’s it, baby. Just relax.” A warm hand drifted down my temple, and I turned toward it, savoring the scent of his skin, delicious citrus with notes of something woodsy and masculine.

“Look at her. She’s like a little kitten now. Should’ve given her that shit about a half hour ago. Before she popped me in the goddamn nose.”

“You need a tampon, Rhys? Quit being a pussy. I’ve hit you harder than that just fucking around.”

“Fucker’s been broke twice. Someone so much as taps it, hurts like a bitch.”

Their voices began to fade in and out as the drugs pulled me deeper and deeper into the blackness. I could feel my body drifting, as if I’d been placed on a raft in the middle of the ocean, sitting atop smooth, billowing waves.

Nicoleta. The young girl’s voice broke through the clouds, reaching to yank me back, but failed to latch onto my high. What’s your purpose? Remember.

A hiccup of laughter slipped out as I imagined the girl grasping for strings, while I floated away.

“I’m gonna bounce outta here, Dax. You need anything, you know where to find me.”