Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Sway stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Blood, now dry and crusted, covered one side of her face. Turning on the water, she let it warm up while she dug in the cabinet for hydrogen peroxide and ointment. Using a washcloth, she dampened it and began the painful work of cleaning the large cut that ran down her face. With every touch, the cloth pulled at the wound, making it bleed more.
The tears she refused to shed downstairs now flowed freely. She’d always prided herself on being tough, but tonight, she hadn’t felt tough. She felt small and weak. Staring at the blood running down her cheek, Sway promised herself she’d never feel like that again. No matter what happened to her, she’d fight.
A loud knock on the front door startled her. Her phone said it had been forty minutes since she made the call. Closing her eyes, she prayed it was Vicious at her door. Moving through the apartment, she looked out the peephole. Seeing Vicious on the other side, Sway unlocked the door and pulled it open. Snow blew in as Vicious and two other men stepped into the apartment. Sway stepped back, giving them room to close the door.
Vicious moved quickly into the apartment. At seeing her face, he reached out for her. “What the fuck?” he asked. As the words slipped from his lips, she began to shake. Grabbing her, he gathered her up into his arms and carried her to the sofa.
Inspecting the wound, he didn’t know what to do about it. She needed a doctor. “Call Razor or Hemlock. We need a medic here now.”
“With the weather . . .” Player started to speak but stopped at seeing the look on his brother’s face. “I’ll see if I can get one of them on the phone.”
Thirty minutes later, Sway sat in a kitchen chair while her face was being cleaned and doctored up. The man tending to her wound said his name was Razor. “I’m using Steri-Strips to close the cut,” he said. “If I stitch you up, you’ll have a bad scar.” Razor was trying to keep the girl calm. He recognized her from the hospital. How could he not—she was a stunner.
“Are you an actual doctor?” she asked the man. He had the most striking pale blue eyes she’d ever seen. They were so pale, it was hard to look away from them. The tattoos that rose from under his T-shirt and ended at the base of his throat intrigued her.
“Yes, I’m an actual doctor. I work at the clinic over in the Red-Light District. And call me Razor. Please. ”
“Rough area,” Sway replied as her attention was taken from Razor to a picture behind him.
Razor noticed Sway was staring at something behind him. Looking over his shoulder to see what her eyes were locked on, he saw a picture set in a silver frame on the counter. “Who’s that in the picture? Your family?”
“Me and my brother,” Sway said softly. “He passed away recently.”
Sway watched Vicious as he walked around the room. When he stepped up to the counter and picked up the framed picture, she wanted to rip it from his hands. “Tesh was your brother?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“Son of a bitch.” Vicious looked at the other men in the room. “He was a good friend.”
“If Tesh was such a good friend, why didn’t you attend his funeral?” Her tone was short, and she knew it struck a chord with Vicious by the way he stared at her. She didn’t care. If her brother was indeed their friend, why hadn’t they reached out to her? Why hadn’t they come to his services?
“Hold still,” Razor snapped at her.
Vicious cut a look at Razor. He didn’t like the tone he was using. “We aren’t always welcome,” he said flatly.
“You would have been.” Closing her eyes, she tried stemming the tears as her face burned from being touched.
“All done,” Razor said .
“Thank you.” Sway listened as the guy told her to come to the clinic for him to keep an eye on the wound, and she agreed.
The four men who had come to her rescue shocked her. They were nothing like she imagined hardened bikers would be. They were well-mannered and seemed to be well-educated. So much for stereotypes , she thought.
More than once, she had seen Vicious scanning her bookshelves. He even inquired about a few of the collectibles she had. She’d downplayed them until he told her what they were valued at. When she heard the amount, Sway almost asked if he wanted to buy one of them. Selling a few of the books could keep her afloat for at least a year.
Her grandmother had been an avid reader. When Sway’s parents dropped them off for weeks at a time, her grandmother would drag Sway with her to every bookstore on Saturdays, searching for old books. Sway had managed to hold on to four books that her grandmother coveted. They had become some of Sway’s favourites. Even the old cookbook she loved thumbing through on rainy Sundays.
“Would anyone like coffee or tea? Maybe a whisky? God, I think I need a drink.” Sway went to touch her face but dropped her hand at the last second.
“I think alcohol can wait,” Razor told her as he handed her a small envelope of white tablets. “These are oxycodone. I would rather you not mix the two.”
Taking the pills, Sway wasn’t sure she’d take them, still she thanked Razor. “I can’t thank you gentlemen enough for coming to my rescue, especially in this weather.”
“It’s what we do. ”
Sway snickered at the comment from the guy named Player. “Really?”
Player laughed. “Sometimes.”
“I appreciate that you came for me,” she said to Player, but her eyes were locked on Vicious. Suddenly tired, Sway covered her mouth as she yawned. “Wow, now the adrenaline is gone, I’m suddenly exhausted.
“We’ll get out of your way. Make sure to come see me at the clinic,” Razor told her.
“I promise.”
After the men left, Sway cleaned up the kitchen table then went through the house, making sure everything was in order. Now standing in the bathroom, Sway looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie. The wound would heal, and she’d learn to live with the scar, but the man who had hurt her, she would never forget.
Walking into the bedroom, she sat down on the bed. Patting her pockets, she tugged her phone out and dialled her brother. She listened to it ring and counted them down until it went to voicemail.
“This is Tesh. Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
She waited for the beep and left her message. “Those men came to collect the protection money. They hurt me, Tesh. I’m so mad at you. I’m afraid, Tesh. The shop doesn’t make enough money to give it to those thugs.” Hanging up, she dropped the phone onto the bed.
“Do you call him every day?”
Sway screamed at hearing the male voice coming from the doorway. Through the hysterical outburst, she saw Vicious moving across the room toward her. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s just me,” he said, trying to soothe her.
“I didn’t know you were still here.”
“I was outside smoking.” Vicious gave Sabine a minute to compose herself. Once she calmed down, he reminded her that he said he was staying there.
Sway forgot Vicious had not only said he was staying, he had declared it in a way that it didn’t matter what she said. If Sway was honest with herself, she was relieved he was staying. “Let me get you a pillow and linens for the sofa.”
Vicious tried to tell Sabine that he didn’t need a pillow or linens because he wouldn’t be sleeping. Still, she rushed out the room and then back in with everything he needed to make up the sofa. “Thank you,” he told her, taking the stack from her hands. “Go get some sleep.”
“Thank you so much for answering the phone tonight.” Sway leaned in and kissed Vicious on the cheek before heading to the bedroom. What she didn’t see was Vicious placing a hand over the spot where her lips had touched his face.