9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
N az struggled to fall asleep that night. Rocks wasn’t thrilled with Naz doing his own perimeter checks, but he ignored the bigger man’s mutterings, feeling better outside than in the warehouse with the chains hanging above him.
When he finally made his way toward the warehouse wall where he normally sat for the night, Meg was already there.
He’d been hoping she would stay with Julio, or he had told himself he was hoping for that. The relief easing the pressure in his stiffened neck called him a liar.
She looked up, her eyes barely landing on him before she stared back down at her knees, curled up under his shirt again.
Naz settled beside her, realizing too late that he was close enough for their arms to brush against each other. Meg didn’t pull away.
She also didn’t lean on his shoulder or begin talking his ear off, the two things that occurred most often. He liked the sound of her voice as she grew sleepy. It didn’t seem to matter what she said, more that she said something, as if silence was the enemy for her.
Now that silence drew out.
Tension stiffened his neck again as he waited for her to ask about his scar.
Her head didn’t turn toward him, and the words didn’t come. After long minutes, she held out her hand, palm up.
He wasn’t sure what she wanted at first and stared at that open palm, with its three prominent lines that seemed to connect in the middle. When her fingers curled into the ‘give me’ motion, he finally figured it out, and he handed her his unlocked phone.
She pulled up the Notes app, her finger going right to the icon.
He let his head lean back as she typed out her message. He was almost afraid to look when she handed back his phone.
‘Julio called you brain damaged. Is that true?’
All the different explanations he could give her sifted through his mind. They’d all take a lot more words than he wanted to deal with. He minimized the note and searched for the term the doctors had given him: dysarthria. Ramiro and Diego had made him go to doctors for a while, and it had helped him cope, but it hadn’t done much else.
He handed the phone back to her and let her research for herself.
Naz had only managed to escape on his own once. It was toward the end. He’d almost made it, too. A swing of a shovel had stopped him. Instead of the broad side knocking him out, the curved edge had carved into the back and side of his head, cutting deep.
It hadn’t helped that he’d been dumped back into his room after, but maybe even if he had gone to a hospital, the injury would have turned out the same. The doctors hadn’t had an answer either way.
It was a sick thing to regret trying to escape the hell he’d been stuck in.
Meg handed his phone back.
Her head found its place on his shoulder.
“What about kissing? You can’t do that either?”
A snort escaped that that was what she’d asked about first. No pity laced her voice, just curiosity.
Naz gave a minimal shrug, not wanting to bounce her head too much. Kissing anyone was the last thing he was worried about.
At least the men had stopped fucking his mouth when it no longer worked properly.
“I guess it doesn’t matter. That’s not the best part anyway,” she mumbled, her body turning into his as she relaxed against him more fully.
The realization that he hadn’t pulled away but remained comfortable, even after she’d hinted at sex, seeped inside him right before sleep took him.
T he other dealers had heard about them taking out one of their own during the last shipment distribution. They showed up extra twitchy to pick up their drugs.
Their twitchiness made Julio nervous, and it was a shit show even before Meg walked in on it.
She froze just inside the side door that led in from the trailers, her eyes widening.
“Oops,” she said, forcing a smile as she began to back up. “Sorry.”
The dealer, one that looked like he used too much, with greasy hair and bloodshot eyes, pulled his gun.
Naz shot him before he could send his own bullet into Julio, but the dealer had brought four of his own men, and a couple squeezed off bullets before Julio’s crew could take them all out.
Julio had been smart enough to duck and roll, but José had frozen like a deer in headlights and wound up on the floor, bleeding from the chest.
“Fuck!” Julio shouted, sending another bullet into the already dead dealer. His eyes looked almost panicked as they took in José’s groaning form.
Seb was already beside José, pressing down on the wound to try to staunch the blood.
Julio stalked toward the entrance Meg was cringing in. “What the fuck did you do?”
She turned and bolted.
“She’d better be going back to the damn trailers, where she should have stayed all along.” Julio glared at Naz. “Go check. We’ve got enough shit to deal with without chasing her down if she runs.”
Naz paused in his task of searching the bodies. It’d be better if Meg did take off, even if the idea of it made his pulse throb. He waved toward the bodies.
“For fuck’s sake, they’ll keep!” Julio snapped. “Make sure she knows to stay put until I have time to deal with her.”
Miguel sneered. “She needs to be taught a fucking lesson. You’re letting her pussy run the show.”
Julio was on him before the words ended, punching him in the throat and sending him to the ground. “You want to fucking question me again?”
“José needs a doctor,” Seb called out. “The bullet is still in his chest.”
Julio stared down at José. “Do you know whose son he is? If he dies, we’re all toast.” His hands twitched at his sides. “Rocks, help Seb and me get him to the clinic.” Julio crouched down to stare into José’s eyes, which were rolling in panic. “It’s not that bad, coz,” he lied. “You better not fucking die and get me killed.”
Rocks was able to keep José’s body straight as the three of them lifted together, Miguel racing ahead to open the car door.
“Naz, get that fucking girl,” Julio snapped over his shoulder as he headed out, “or you’ll pay the consequences instead of her.”
Naz was used to taking orders, and figured Meg was freaking out anyway, so he was halfway to the trailers before he spotted her on the edge of the woods with her backpack.
Meg waited for him to approach, but her feet shifted, as if she was getting ready to run.
“He’s pissed, isn’t he?” she asked. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she was wearing the flannel shirt he hadn’t seen since those first days. “I fucked up. I know I fucked up. Is he going to kill me?”
Naz hadn’t thought that far ahead. His stomach hardened as he realized how likely that was. Especially if José died.
Meg squeezed a hand around her ponytail. “I can’t believe I forgot. Julio didn’t remind me, but I should have stayed in the goddamn trailer today. I just wanted to see—” She broke off, her eyes squeezing shut. “I wanted to see you,” she said, her voice low.
The words seeped inside him, scalding his chest.
A harsh laugh burst out from behind him. “She’s totally working you over,” Miguel said, his eyes hard when Naz looked at him.
The possibility that she’d said the words to manipulate him wiped all the warmth away. Naz stared at her, and her eyes skittered every which way.
“He’s going to kill me!” she shouted in panic. Her hands reached out to grab onto his arm. “Please, Naz, you can’t let him.”
He was back to being Naz to her, not Ignacio. If she had called him Ignacio, if her tone had given him those tingles like it had whenever she said his full name, would he have let her go?
Miguel let out another biting laugh. “Go ahead. It’d be a relief to see Julio kill you, Ignacio.” The sneer in the name made Naz colder.
Meg’s eyes were so hopeful, but her face lost all color as she watched Naz shake his head.
She tried to run for it, but she bumped into Naz’s chest when he moved in front of her. Miguel was the one to grab her arm, then drag her toward the trailer.
“Please!” she shouted over her shoulder, her desperation scraping at Naz’s insides. He’d begged like that before. “Don’t let them hurt me!”
Naz followed Miguel into the trailer with her. Meg wasn’t crying. Her eyes were narrowed in a glare. She jerked, trying to get out of Miguel’s hold on her.
“I’m here. Get your hands off me.”
Miguel took her through to the bedroom she’d been sharing with Julio, shoving her away hard enough that she had to brace herself against the bed. She studied him warily as she straightened, but he didn’t stay inside. He slammed the door shut instead.
“Get a chair or something to keep her in there,” Miguel said.
She didn’t call out to Naz through the door as he dragged the heaviest piece of furniture they had in front of the door.
Miguel was searching through the kitchen drawers. “Where’s that fucking key?” he muttered.
Naz stared at the bedroom door. Meg was too silent. He didn’t like it.
He didn’t like any of this.
His hand ran over his head, and the smoothness made him remember the way she’d helped him shave. Every moment between them had been slowly snapping together like puzzle pieces, creating a relationship he’d never asked for.
Meg was his friend.
He couldn’t let Julio kill her.
Miguel lifted the key in triumph. Naz considered killing him and running away with her. Diego and Ramiro would help him hide her.
But running was never the answer. It just encouraged pursuit. He’d learned that before.
So he watched Miguel lock up the trailer behind them, focusing on what he knew, disposing of the bodies, even though the urge to go to Meg was nearly overpowering.