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Sterling draws in labored breaths.
He tells the same story Willow gave Leith. I’d been standing in the hallway while Brody hog-tied JT. I was desperate to run to her and tell Leith to fuck off that I got this. But fire and acid shot down my veins, and the enemy was waging war on my soul.
“Did any of you fuck her mom?” I grit out. Please say no.
He begins to whimper.
After all Willow’s tears, I can guess his answer. I gesture to Brody to take over. Frowning, I saunter toward JT.
I pat his cheek. The chain jolts as he jumps awake, body swaying around. I grab his face. “Morning, remember me?”
He growls.
Yes. My kind of torture victim.
“Sterling sold you out. Said you were the one fucking the patients at Orange Blossom.”
Hard stare.
“You’re a nurse, CNA?”
“RN,” he retorts.
“You do a lot for the patients. Invalids who can’t do shit for themselves.”
He regards me with a side-eye.
My heated expression cools to a neutral mask. Seconds later, I’ve disassociated myself for the sake of gathering intel. “Some of those old bitches are lookers, aren’t they?”
JT begrudgingly snaps, “They’re not all old.”
“So, you have some fun with them. Kill Bill-style, eh?” My eyebrows wriggle.
“That was my movie!”
“I bet it was.” I pretend to ponder for a moment. There’s a thin line between good cop and bad motherfucker. JT met the asshole in me late last night. Now, it’s early morning, and I’ve a one-track mind—to avenge Willow or her mom.
I remember the day Jamie came home. A solid week without my then closest bro. He was so fucking small, had lost weight. Skin, bones, no fucking voice.
I can’t turn back the hands of time. But Willow isn’t to cry another tear while her mom is at Orange Blossom.
I hold firm to the same momentum. “How many patients did you have fun with?”
“No . . . I-I saw the movie. Stuff like that only happens in movies.”
No. Shit like that happens in real life. I recall Mom cussing about ABC 7 News and a long-term coma patient becoming pregnant. Murder was in Mom’s eyes. When a muscle ticks in my jaw, I turn to look at Sterling, gagged and scarred. Then I ask, “The ones who are in a coma—”
“I didn’t do it!”
“Listen, we started on the wrong foot. That girl’s my fucking property.”
I feel him slipping in the wrong direction.
“I’ve gotta care for my bitches. They work hard for me.”
He licks his bloodied lips in thought. “That girl?”
“Yup. My bitch.” Anger ignites in a hot flame in my gut. “Just added her to my collection. She smells of untouched innocence. I’m opening her up.” My eyes darken.
