4. How about a little fucking gratitude? – Seven
4
HOW ABOUT A LITTLE FUCKING GRATITUDE?
SEVEN
U sing a knuckle to knock, I push open the door to Julian’s old room with my elbow.
For a second, I think she might’ve decided not to accept Atticus’s completely out-of-character offer of hospitality and bolted. The room is empty. Freshly made bed untouched. No evidence of her anywhere.
Until a faucet turns on in the en suite, and I hear the shuffle of feet and paws on the other side of the door.
It’s already open a crack, so I push it wide with the toe of my boot.
She picks fragments of glass out of her hairline and a frown pulls at her lips. Eleven notices me first and sits up, her tail thumping on the white marble floor.
The sound draws Aurora’s attention, and she jumps as her gaze catches mine in the mirror.
“For the dog,” I say and step more into the large bathroom, forcing her to step aside as I lean over the counter to fill the empty bowl with water and set it on the floor with the food.
Eleven goes right for it like she hasn’t had water or food in days, and I have to wonder if whatever fuckwit hurt this girl also hurt this dog, and that feeling in my veins tightens. Grows hot. Insistent.
I clear my throat.
“These are for you,” I say, pulling the clothes from under my arm.
“Right. Thanks.”
Eleven wags her tail almost violently as she eats, pausing to give me a lick of thanks before going right back to it. I don’t miss how Aurora’s jaw tightens or how her eyes shine as she watches her dog happily eat and drink her fill.
A knock sounds at the door, and Aurora’s gaze finds Atticus over my shoulder. When my eyes meet his in the mirror, there’s a muscle flexing in his jaw, and he’s frowning.
If there’s one thing Atticus fucking hates, it’s being kept waiting.
“We need to get you patched up, Sev.”
He turns to Aurora. “When you’ve had a chance to settle in a bit, Eli can patch you up, too. From the front entryway, you go through the living room and past the library. His room is at the very end of that hall.”
She shakes her head. “Um, that’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’m not even bleeding anymore.”
Atticus raises a brow at her. “That cut needs closing. If you leave it, it’ll scar pretty badly.”
She gives him a polite nod, but I don’t think she’ll be going to pay Eli a visit.
That’s all right. We can do it in the morning.
I drop a heavy hand on Atticus’s shoulder. “Lead the way. I think Aurora’s too polite to tell us to get the fuck out.”
“No, I’m?—”
“It’s okay.” I toss her a wink, shoving Atticus out the door. “I’ve got you.”
Atticus grumbles under his breath as we head out to the garage.
The big med kit’s already pulled out and on the counter when we get there.
Elijah leans against the tool locker, arms folded over his chest as we shut the door behind us.
“What the fuck, Atticus? We need a house cleaner, really?”
I head to the sink to get cleaned up enough for Eli to stitch me back together. “And since when are you cool with dogs in the house?”
Atticus pulls the antiseptic spray from the kit and gets the other supplies ready for Eli, so he doesn’t have to grasp as much with his right hand. “I’m not.”
I wash off as much dirt as I can, the cool water and the sting waking me up enough that I know I won’t sleep after they’re done fixing me up.
“Okay, I’ll bite.” I flick the water off my hands and take a seat. “Why let her stay, then? We both know you’d rather eat a dick than let someone else clean.”
He flexes his jaw. “I’m still working on it.”
“Working on what? Not being a neat freak with a?—”
“No. There’s something…” He trails off. “I’m not sure if it’ll work yet. Just trust me. I think maybe we can use her.”
Use her?
Use her for what?
I can think of a few ways, but I doubt any of my uses are in the same neighborhood as Atticus’s.
“Do you think she suspects anything about what we were doing out there?”
“Super subtle subject shift, bro.”
“We all have blood on us,” Eli replies, taking the bait. “And grave dirt.”
He’s right, though. Everything we’re wearing will need to be burned. Except for my jacket. I’ll die in this thing. Even if it is a fucking petri dish of foreign DNA that could see me convicted for at least six murders.
“If she noticed anything, she wouldn’t have come with us. She didn’t get a good look at you two until after you came to peel me off the pavement. If she saw blood, she probably thought it was mine.”
Eli sighs and rubs his forehead. Scars litter the back of his right hand, and his ring finger will forever have a slight bend to the left. Every time I see the evidence of what he did—what he had to do—to get back to us, I remember there’s still so much work to be done.
So much more DNA to add to this jacket.
And how we don’t have the time to be wasting on a girl Atticus decided might be ‘interesting’.
His gaze turns to me, annoyance in the slant of his brow. “Did you really have to shoot the guy, Sev?”
What kind of question is that?
“Fucking right, I did.”
I push the hair back out of my face as Elijah comes over with some alcohol-soaked gauze, resigning himself to silence while Atty and I have it out.
“It’s more warning than most get when they threaten my fucking family.”
If I hadn’t shot him, the others might not have scattered. The only regret I have is that the fucker kicked the bucket in the trunk five minutes after we stuffed him in. We didn’t even have a shot at questioning him first because my tired ass nicked his femoral artery with the shot.
Atticus shakes his head. “You could’ve shot somewhere less lethal. Kneecap. Foot. Fucking shoulder.”
“Hey, excuse the fuck out of me for keeping you both alive. I wasn’t thinking about questioning him when he pointed a gun at your head.”
He glares at me. “Lower your voice. She might hear you. And sit back down so Eli can stitch you up.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d stood, but I let myself sink back against the counter, clenching my teeth as Eli starts to dab the gauze on the stinging gash in my head.
It was always why did you have to kill him, Sev? Did you really have to shoot him nine times, Sev? Was paralyzing him actually necessary, Sev?
How about a little fucking gratitude?
Atticus pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter now. It’s done.”
“We need to wipe down the car and ditch it,” I say, unable to keep the acid out of my tone now.
Atticus rips the band out of his hair, setting it loose around his face in a mess of damp gold and copper. “Yeah. I got it. If the girl asks, we had it dropped off for repairs.”
He runs a hand over his face, betraying how exhausted he really is. “Eli, I told her you would help her with first aid after she gets cleaned up. She might come by your room, so take the kit with you.”
With that, Atticus stalks off.
“She won’t come,” I add after he’s gone. “Just get some sleep. We’ll see if she’ll let you touch her tomorrow.”
Eli nods once, his gaze darkening as he pulls the hooked needle out of the kit and threads it.
“Ready?”
He passes me one of the small bottles of whiskey we keep in the box, and I twist off the cap and drain it in one swallow before lobbing it into the trash bin.
“You kidding? This is my favorite part.”