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Carl is dead, someone knows about what happened at the brothel, and I’m standing in the middle of these three brothers’ home, being told I have to stay with one of them.
Is this what shock feels like?
“Come on,” Ransom says, grabbing my bags from where he set them on the floor when we stopped to talk. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Victor walks past us toward the stairs, probably going to do what Malice told him to do—get rid of any sign that Carl came to my apartment and try to figure out who’s after the information.
Malice disappears too, heading back out to the garage, and I have a disquieting feeling in my stomach that he’s off to get rid of the body somehow. I don’t even want to think about what that’s going to entail.
Ransom leads me upstairs, his hands filled with two of my bags, and I clutch my school bag to my chest, holding on to it like it’s a lifeline. I feel so on edge in this place. I’ve been here before, but this is different. Now I’m in their living space, moving deeper into their lives.
So much has changed from before I knew these men, and I barely recognize myself or my life anymore. My head is spinning, and when I close my eyes, I can see the look of shock frozen on Carl’s face after Victor killed him.
Just earlier today, the biggest thing I was worried about was my cold. I feel a lot better, although I still have a bit of congestion in my nose. It makes my head feel too full, on top of all the thoughts running through it.
“Can I take a shower?” I ask Ransom after we reach the second floor.
“Sure,” he says. He shoots me a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard at first. Seeing dead bodies and watching people die. I guess Carl and Nikolai were probably the first ones you’ve seen killed. It gets easier, though.”
That’s nowhere near as reassuring as he probably thinks it is, and I can feel my heart rate climbing as I swallow past the lump in my throat. I don’t want death to become a part of my life that gets easier. I don’t want to get used to it.
We head down the hall, and Ransom shows me to the bathroom.
He trades me my duffel for the school bag I’ve been holding, and I grip the handle tightly as I step inside the small room, my skin prickling with awareness. I’m almost worried that he’s going to follow me in, with some line about how they can’t trust me to shower alone or something.
But Ransom just positions himself against the wall of the hallway outside, letting me close the door without a protest.
Thank god.
I feel marginally better with a closed door between me and… everything and everyone else out there, but it’s not enough to chase away the off-balance feeling entirely. Too much has happened tonight for me to feel anything close to comfortable.
It occurs to me to look for a window to climb out of or something, but there isn’t one. And even if there were, trying to run from these men would probably be stupid anyway. They’d just drag me back, and it would be even worse. Besides, they’re the only ones standing between me and whoever’s been tracking down information about the brothel.
With a sigh, I turn the shower on, adjusting the water temperature until it’s as hot as I can stand it. I linger for a second beside the tub, feeling very exposed as I contemplate the idea of undressing in their home.
This is a bathroom that all three of them clearly share, and it’s obvious to see the little touches each one has brought to it. Inside the shower, there are shelves adhered to the wall, and each of the brothers has one. On top, there are small bottles in orderly rows, and that’s all Victor. One of the body washes on the middle shelf smells like the smoky, alluring scent that I associate with Malice. The ones on the bottom have more variety, which seems like Ransom, wanting to try a little bit of everything.
I turn away from their things and quickly strip off my sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt, then step under the spray. As the water slicks my hair to my skin, I realize that the body wash I brought is in the suitcase Ransom still has, so I grab what’s available in the shower and pour a liberal amount into my hand, scrubbing at my skin to try to get the feeling of the splatters of Carl’s blood off me.
Even though I can’t wash the memories away, I just want to feel clean.
But as I finish up and step out of the shower, I realize this might have been a mistake. Because I replaced the scent and feel of death with the scent and feel of these three brothers.
Now it feels like they’re all on my skin, and I don’t like that.
It’s too intimate.
Too personal.
Tooreal.
Shivering slightly, I rummage through my bag and get dressed in different clothes, pulling out the long-sleeved shirt and long pants I usually sleep in. I feel even more self-conscious about things here, and I want to be covered up.
When I open the door, Ransom is still waiting outside.
His gaze sweeps over me, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. It makes me feel odd, especially since I’m just wearing old grungy clothes. There’s nothing sexy about them, but he’s looking at me like he likes what he sees.
It unnerves me… almost as much as the way my body responds to his look.
