Chapter 10 #2
We went to Zip’s favorite dive, a grungy shack with “Mootzie’s” over the door.
Zip ordered two mugs of moonshine, a bitter brew that burned down my throat and into my empty stomach.
It seemed like all the loggers were crowded inside, and they greeted Zip raucously.
Soon everything grew blurry around the edges.
Zip laughed next to me, an arm wrapped around my waist. He ordered us another round.
Then another. After the third, I realized I didn’t care that Zip’s hands were all over me.
It felt nice, not caring. Gods, how long had it been since I’d been drunk?
Zip and I got separated for a bit when the dive began to fill up with people. I made my way over to the bar to get another drink.
“Bones?”
I turned to see Hawk, the leader of the other Safeguard crew. I’d stitched up a small wound on his arm a few days ago.
“Hey,” I said, and I must’ve sounded a lot friendlier than normal judging by the way he paused and blinked.
“I was hoping to see you again.” He watched me with open interest, like he’d just been handed a dare.
“You better not be bleeding.” I tilted my head, assessing.
“Not bleeding.” Hawk held his hands up in surrender, laughing.
“Good, ’cause I’m off duty.”
He stepped closer, scanning my bruised face. “Damn, I saw the newsboard, but—”
An arm snaked around my ribs and pulled me back until I was pressed up against a broad chest. The sudden grab lit up every nerve in me, my breath catching as my muscles went rigid. For a beat the bar noise went distant, swallowed by my roaring pulse.
“Hey, Hawk,” Zip said, his voice a low warning.
Hawk’s head jerked back a fraction, smile fading. “Hey, Zip.”
“Bones, you want another drink?” Zip asked, but his gaze stayed locked on Hawk.
Hawk paused, then stepped back, retreating. “Well, have a good night, you two,” he said before vanishing back into the crowd.
“I don’t share, Bones,” Zip said into my hair, the threat clear. “Now c’mon, I’ll get you another drink.”
I went with him, letting him hold on to me like he feared someone would snatch me away.
I hated it. My skin stayed too aware of where his hand rested, how easy it would be for him to tighten his grip.
But I knew how to play this role. I knew how to laugh when I didn’t mean it and to lean in when every instinct wanted space.
I’d wagered he would be jealous and possessive, which meant if I was with Zip, nobody would mess with me.
Well, except for Zip.
I practically chugged my next drink—not for the taste but for what it promised. I wanted to get good and drunk. I wanted the sharp edges sanded down until I couldn’t feel the bar’s eyes on me or Zip’s hand on my ribs. Anything to quiet my head.
Zip started playing a game of cards with me perched in his lap.
As I glanced over his shoulder, I froze at the sight of Mac and Griz sitting across the room at a table.
They each had a drink in front of them, but both of them watched us closely like they were taking inventory of every touch.
Mac’s gaze met mine, and I felt that familiar, humiliating tightness set in.
I looked away, my temper rising to drown out the shame. Gods, why couldn’t they leave me alone?
Zip laid down his cards and swore when he lost again. Even with my dulled senses, I could tell a fight was brewing, and I didn’t want to patch him up again.
“C’mon, Zip.” I caught his face to get his attention. “Let’s go.”
Zip’s bleary gaze landed on me, and he startled like he’d forgotten I was even there. A wicked smile curled under his beard.
“Keep yer cards, Blaze,” he slurred, standing. “I got better things to do.”
I slid off his lap when he stood, but then he swept me into his arms to kiss me hard.
My body went pliant, but inside, all of me stayed braced and blank.
Blaze and his buddies jeered and heckled him, but Zip pulled back with a grin and steered us toward the door, his hand on my ass.
Mac and Griz watched us go. I pretended not to see them.
Zip led me out of the dive and then roughly pressed me up against a shack, his mouth hard and demanding.
The boards dug into my back and his beard scratched against my skin, but the moonshine flattened everything, muting the moment just enough to stand.
I let my eyes shut and dug my nails into Zip’s shoulders hard enough to make him growl.
I didn’t want him careful. Not tonight. For once I wasn’t trying to outrun the memory of rough hands.
I wanted to erase the gentle ones that had held me last night.
I didn’t want to think about Trey. I didn’t want to think at all.
—
I woke with a start.
Next to me, Zip snored, his naked body half draped over mine.
I didn’t recognize the tiny shack I’d woken up in, and I scanned the room.
There wasn’t much to see—a few pieces of homemade wooden furniture, a dirt floor, and the pile of furs we were lying on.
I slid out from under Zip, waves of nausea rolling over me.
My head pounded as I collected my clothes.
There were several new bruises on my body.
I hadn’t wanted gentle, and from the bits and pieces I could remember, I’d gotten my wish.
Hopefully, he’d been too drunk to notice the brand on my chest.
I dressed as quickly and quietly as I could manage. Thank the gods, Zip didn’t even stir. When I stepped outside, the sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but the light sent stabbing pains through my head. I made it a few steps before puking into the frosty grass.
Wolf stayed silent in my head. I debated poking at him, demanding he express his disapproval, but I couldn’t find the energy.
I stumbled back to my clinic, stopping to retch a few more times.
Gods, what did Mootzie’s put in that shit?
When I opened the door to the clinic, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of Trey sitting on the chair by the door, still dressed and awake.
I forced myself to continue inside. He stared at me as I toed off my boots, his jaw tight.
“You look like shit,” he said.
I flashed a vulgar hand signal as I went around him to collapse onto my bed. The silence felt full of tension. I wished he would leave.
“Why you doin’ this, Bones?” he finally asked.
I refused to lift my face from the lumpy mattress. I needed him to be mad. I could deal with mad. I could not deal with the hurt in his voice.
“Go away,” I mumbled.
“You gotta know,” Trey continued like I hadn’t even spoken, “dammit, Bones, you gotta know I care about you. I’m sorry you feel like I took advantage of you. I was trying real hard to make sure you didn’t—”
“Go. Away.” I lifted my head enough to spit the words at him.
He stared me down. “You wanna know what I think?”
“No.”
He continued anyway, “I think you let me in a little, and now you’re pushing me away ’cause you’re scared.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I don’t believe you—”
“What? You think you’re special ’cause I saved your life and let you into my bed? Well, you’re not. Now leave me the fuck alone!”
In the silence, he stared at me, hurt and anger replacing the warm kindness I’d grown so used to seeing on his handsome face. I held his gaze, my fury blazing. Finally, he let himself out. I collapsed back onto my mattress and swallowed the bitter tears aching in my throat.
I don’t care, I repeated in my head like maybe if I said it enough times it’d come true. I don’t care.
—
It felt like I’d just closed my eyes when someone shook me roughly awake. I jolted, looking up to see Mac glaring down at me.
“Madame wants you,” he said.
Fuck.
I crawled out of bed, my stomach churning for more reasons than being hungover as shit.
Mac leaned against the exam table and waited as I washed my face; I hoped the cold water would help.
I waited on edge for him to say something about last night, but he didn’t say a word. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
When I was ready, he led the way, staying a few paces ahead of me as I tried to keep up. My anxiety grew with every step.
We went straight down the stairs back to that horrible room with the straw floor.
Madame stood inside with two of her guards.
My stomach sank when I recognized the woman strapped to the chair.
It was Mist, the soapmaker. She looked like she’d put up a fight, her face battered and bloody, her eyes angry.
“Oh, good, Bones, you’re just in time,” Madame purred. “Mist is being very uncooperative.”
I had to fight to keep from collapsing right there. The room reeked like blood and that sickly sugary scent. Mac closed the door behind him and stood in front of it. The suffocating feeling of being trapped did not help.
“Fuck you, bitch,” Mist spit at Madame.
Madame drew that all-too-familiar knife and stalked around Mist, looking thoughtful.
“Where should we start, Bones?” she mused.
I stayed pale-faced and silent, but she didn’t seem to care. Eventually, she stopped and brushed Mist’s light hair away from her ear.
“You’ve been stealing from me for months,” Madame said in a low, deadly voice. “Allow me to return the favor.”
Mist snarled at her. Madame grinned and then, with one swift motion, she sliced Mist’s ear clean off.
Mist cried out and jerked as blood spurted. I took a step forward instinctively, horrified, but halted when Madame held out her hand for me to stop.
“Four sacks of dried beans, a crate of barley, two crates of oats, thirty-two dried fish, five pounds of dried beef, two crocks of carrots, three tins of salt, and a sealed half pint of honey,” Madame listed. “You didn’t steal all of that yourself, Mist. Who helped you?”
Mist gasped in ragged breaths, but she still didn’t speak. Madame walked around to Mist’s other side and pulled her hair back from her other ear.
“Last chance, Mist. Who. Helped. You?”
“Fuck you,” Mist said, choking on the words.