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But it was kind of hard to stand your ground when you were shot in the leg.
So I hobbled over and carefully got my ass back up, reaching for the blanket and holding it against my chest.
“What are you here to talk to me about then?” I asked when he didn’t immediately start speaking.
“About the conditions and parameters for you going home.”
“You’re serious?”
“Do I look like a man who jokes around?” he shot back.
He had me there.
He didn’t seem like he knew how to genuinely smile, let alone laugh.
“What kinds of conditions and parameters?” I asked.
“I have some questions for you first.”
“Like what?”
“Do you live with someone?”
“How is that any of your business?”
“Babe, you’re just dragging this out. Think we’re all tired and over this. The faster you answer, the quicker we can get you back to your life.”
Well, it would be stupid to keep ticking him off if he was genuinely going to let me leave.
“I live alone. Sometimes, my sister will come and stay with me for a weekend, but not often.”
“Try to push that off until you heal then,” he said. It wasn’t a suggestion, either.
I was getting really sick of douchebag guys dictating my life. But it looked like I didn’t have a lot of choice in this matter.
“Because she will have questions that I can’t answer,” I said.
“Exactly that.”
“So, I’m supposed to just… go back to my life like nothing happened.”
“Pretty much. Except you’re going to need to treat those wounds. And come back to get your stitches out.”
“Come back here?”
“Yeah.”
“So… I… I have to see you guys again?” I asked, tone choked.
“No offense, right?” he asked, smirking. “Yeah, babe, you’re going to have to see us guys again. Well, me. You’re going to be dealing with me.”
“Lucky me,” I grumbled, getting a snort out of him.
“The deal is, you keep your mouth shut. In turn for that, we pay you.”
“You’re… paying me for my silence?” I asked, brows knitting. “There’s a phrase for that, isn’t there?” I asked, talking mostly to myself.
“Hush money,” he said, making my gaze shoot up. “It’s called hush money,” he repeated.
