Chapter 6
Alec
There’s no room in the van. I didn’t think this through. There wasn’t room for me on the way here, let alone another person. I just couldn’t leave her there. I see something in her beyond the dirt and grime and who knows what else she’s covered in.
Maybe I see some of myself in her. There are pieces of me in most of the crew. Delia, the red-headed runaway. Tye, the one who has scars on more than just the inside. Rolo, who had to detox from drugs before he was even born. In every single one of them, I find pieces of myself.
They are me.
And I’m them.
But none of us are who we were.
She sits on my lap in the back seat, and we take off from this shit town with our newly acquired package. Will her family call the police and report her missing? Does she even have a family to miss her?
“She’s sitting on your lap?” Delia says with a curl of her lip. She doesn’t hide her disgust.
No one does, really. They’re too far removed from the life she’s coming from. But not me. I remember it all as if it were yesterday. Based on the way Tegan’s posture deflates, she feels every bit of this searing hatred.
I won’t let her feel that way.
Her body odor is . . . rough, I’ll admit that, but not to her or anyone else.
For all they know, I’m completely nose blind to her scent.
I’ve stunk so many times, from piss and shit, to vomit and old food.
Sometimes a combo of them all. Now that’s a smell you won’t forget anytime soon.
She just smells like a girl who’s given up.
I won’t let her. I’ll help her find the strength to try again.
“Pull in here,” I say as I lean forward and tap the seat in front of me. The middle row relays my message to Stacks.
“A hotel? Why? We aren’t staying the night here, Ace,” Stacks says.
“Just . . . trust me.”
We pull into a hotel, and people spill from the metal box to smoke cigarettes and weed. I take Tegan’s hand and drag her inside. We avoid gazes and pretend to be existing residents just coming in from their meal out. No one even lifts their eyes long enough to notice us, which is great.
“Why are we here?” she whispers.
“I have an idea.”
I take a quick right and follow signs to the laundry facilities.
I pull her inside the room, and the low hum of two different dryers rattling against each other fills the silence.
With a quiet hope in my chest, I rip open the first dryer and find a tiny bathing suit and some panties. I close the door.
“If you’re looking for something for me to wear, there’s nothing in there that will fit me.”
“Will you trust my process, pup?”
I open the second dryer and find a mix of men’s and women’s clothes.
A couple, probably. No, there’s not much that would fit her, aside from a pair of black sweatpants.
And when I pull out one of the men’s shirts, I know it will fit me.
I wear bigger shirts to show just how hungry and skinny I’ve gotten.
It keeps the illusion going for sales. Like I said time and time again, you need to live the lie.
I tuck the shirt and sweatpants under my arm, then lead her back to the hall.
I should feel bad about snatching someone’s clothes, but I don’t.
Human decency vacated my body a long time ago.
Probably around the time I robbed a dead man of his shoes at the age of fifteen. It wasn’t as if he needed them anymore.
“What’s the plan?” Tegan asks as we shuffle down another corridor. “I know how the entire van feels about me, and some clean clothes aren’t going to fix that.”
I wrap my hand around my chin and think.
She’s right. You can’t put clean clothes on a dirty body and hope to stop the smell.
Clothes are a bandage over a severed artery, and we don’t even have that going for us right now.
What will a single outfit do? I’ll have to take her shopping when stores are open tomorrow.
But we still have to make it to the next town tonight, so I formulate a new plan.
Following my nose, I bring her down the hall and head toward the scent of chlorine. I can only hope there are some showers in the pool area. If not, I’ll just have to settle for dunking her into the deep end.
Poor girl.
The door clicks open, and the smell of chlorine knocks me back a few steps.
They’re serious about their pool cleanliness here, that’s for sure.
Tegan looks around with wide eyes, as if she’s never seen a luxurious hotel pool before.
Maybe she hasn’t. I make a mental note to show her things she didn’t get to experience as soon as we get a chance.
Right now, I have an entire van of impatient people waiting for me. And her.
I pop open the women’s room door. “Hello?” I yell into the void.
No one responds, so I pull her into the bathroom and lock the door behind us.
Her muscles tense beneath my fingers, and her eyes widen.
I should have thought this through a bit more.
A stranger just funneled her into a secluded area and locked the door, effectively trapping her.
It’s no wonder she looks like I just pulled a gun on her.
“I don’t want anyone coming in,” I tell her, trying to soothe her anxiety. I won’t hurt her. She can rest easy as far as I’m concerned.
“I’m showering here?” she asks, looking around the vast, humid room, then focusing on the large stall with a curtain pulled to the side.
“It’s a free shower.”
Her body breaks into anxious trembles. Who panics if they have to shower? What the heck would cause such a visceral reaction to the mere thought?
I need to find a way to convince her she’s safe, so I pull off my shirt. Her eyes widen as I lean back against the wall and kick off my shoes.
“You’re not showering. We’re showering.”
“I’m not—” Her voice leaves her entirely.
I strip off my jeans but leave my boxers in place. Her eyes drop right to them.
“Come here,” I say, my voice as low and non-threatening as possible.
She takes a step forward. And then another.
I grip the hem of her filthy lavender shirt and lift it from her body. She tenses again.
“I won’t hurt you, pup.”
I don’t remove the cami that presses against her body.
That garment—which appears to be about one size too small—is like armor for her.
She doesn’t need my help to remove her ratty jeans.
She unfastens the waistband and lowers the grimy fabric to her ankles.
Her underwear looks older than she is, and I wonder if she’s ever had anything of her own. I didn’t until I joined the crew.
She fights back tears as I grab her arm and bring her toward the shower. I turn it on and let the water heat up. Her chest begins to rise and fall a little too quickly as she sucks in air.
I lean down to her level. “Hey. Look at me. I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”
She nods and takes a slow, deep breath.
“Just trust me.”
I walk backward and let the water rain down my back.
My eyes close as the stream hits me in the face.
Before she can run off, I swipe the water away from my eyes and pull her into the stall.
She gasps as warmth rushes down her body.
Her cami and underwear cling to her skin, giving me glimpses of what lies underneath.
When I guide her toward the shampoo and bodywash dispensers, she just stares at them, lost in her own mind. I’ve never seen a woman shut down at the prospect of something as simple as a shower, and I need to find out what this girl has been through. Not now, of course, but soon.
I lean into her and dispense shampoo into my hand.
Her body tenses, only relaxing once I start washing her hair.
The soap forms a thick lather in my hands as I brush it over the crown of her head.
Suds run off her long strands, taking brown water and filth with them.
Her widened eyes slip closed as I massage the conditioner into her scalp.
She leans back against me, and I smile. I won’t take this moment of vulnerability for granted.
The dispenser squeaks as I fill my hand with bodywash and move her hair to the side.
I wash her skin, beginning at her neck and moving down to her shoulders and arms. The straps of her cami slip down as I wash her shoulders and back, and my brain goes to places it shouldn’t as the soapy water slides down her body.
I knew she’d be a different being entirely once she was cleaned up, but when she looks back at me with those hazel eyes, with water droplets clinging to her long, thick lashes, I almost lose it.
“Can you clean the rest?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t notice the evil thoughts flitting through my mind.
When she nods, I back the fuck out of there. I leave her in the shower, close the curtain, and drop my hands to the sink as I gather my composure. Frankly, I’m a bit embarrassed about myself.
She’s too young and broken. And besides, I said I wanted to help her, not get into her pants. As the shower continues running behind me, I close my eyes and will away the thoughts I shouldn’t have.
Maybe bringing her along wasn’t the best idea.