Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
LIAR
Nix came. He held me while I clung to him.
He left, and I had Flower’s painting to watch come to life, my pencils and paper forgotten on the side table.
Nix came again. When he left, I begged him to stay.
He left anyway. But he came back and brought me Betty’s fried ravioli.
I ate two bites and then threw up. He held me through all of it.
It was hell interrupted by moments of Nix, who didn’t push me away or look at me in disgust, fear, or anguish even once. He was my anchor that could withstand any storm. And knowing he was coming back, so could I.
“Kitten, I’m not coming back tonight,” Nix rumbled against my ear.
That woke me completely up. I blinked at him, forcing myself to focus on his face. He looked more bruised than usual. “What?”
“The Three-Hundred,” he murmured brushing my wrist with his strong fingers. Gentle. Strong. Perfectly pleasant.
“That’s today?” I frowned at him, confused. That was the end of the season. Had I really been here for months? Time flies when you’re having…the opposite of fun. Mostly unconscious.
He gave me the softest, sweetest smile. “The last time we talked about it, you said I should go, help keep the team safe. Have you changed your mind? Because I can take a helicopter back here the second you say so.”
I shook my head, blinking the cobwebs away. “No. You need to watch out for them. The last time there was a rocket, right?”
He nodded soberly. “It shouldn’t be a problem this season. Ever since the shooting, it’s been eerily quiet.”
“The better to hear my screams.”
He smiled and sidled closer to me, brushing his nose against the side of my neck. “I’m going to make you scream from pleasure, Kitten. For every scream of pain, fifty screams of pleasure. I’m going to spend years perfecting the art of your scream.”
I gulped at the thought of it. “Woah,” I breathed. “That was so villainous. And it brings back sweet memories of our honeymoon.”
He pulled away, frowning. “Honeymoon? You mean the camping trip?”
“I mean the haunted ship. Me, your beast, Taco…”
He pressed the softest kiss imaginable to my forehead before he got up. “That was not a honeymoon. We’re going on a real honeymoon with real tacos. If you die while I’m doing the Three-Hundred, I’ll be really sad. You said you’d watch.”
I nodded while panic threatened to swamp me.
He was leaving me all night? “Of course I’m watching.
That’s why I’m so coherent. Roger must be easing back so I can really enjoy seeing my manly man beat unsuspecting civilians into the dust.” I blinked rapidly, fighting the tears that came at the thought of him abandoning me.
And to think I’d planned on doing this without him.
His smile sparkled. “That’s my girl.”
“Yeah? Should we talk about the mown man?”
He blinked at me, hardness there for a second before it was gone in another blink. “The mown man? Is that a band?”
“Yeah. It’s really cool for us kids. Your generation wouldn’t have heard of it.”
“You kids, like Daniel?”
I winced. “Exactly like Daniel. You’ll probably have to focus on that whole world after the Three-Hundred.”
“But if I win, I get the prize, right?” His eyes glimmered with feral anticipation that made me swallow hard.
“Ukulele?”
He took my hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back while his eyes burned into me. “I don’t see a ukulele.”
“Oh. I’m still the prize?”
“Kitten, you’re so much more than that. To me you’re everything. Home, family, the world. What other prize could I want?” He kissed my fingers and then turned and strode out, like he had somewhere to go.
I scowled after him then grabbed for my paper and pencil.
“How are we feeling?” Roger asked a few hours later, coming in and giving me a terrifying smile.
“Cranky. He isn’t coming tonight.”
“You have the energy to be cranky?” He pursed his beautiful lips in disapproval. “I must be slipping.”
“You’ve been torturing me for months. You’re probably getting burned out. Poor thing.”
He grinned at me then bent his head to check stuff on his tablet.
My hospital room, or bedroom turned into a hospital room, had three large tv screens on the wall opposite my bed. Roger turned them on, showing the teams setting up for the race.
There was Trixie under the hood of her enormous assault vehicle with shiny white-wall tires.
The camera zoomed in on her butt. The cameraman was going to die.
The shot switched to Jezebel leading a big black horse past the camera in her sequined bra, guns holstered on her hips.
The horse snapped his teeth at us then kicked and screamed like a demon.
The shot went to where Dirk was casually eating a breakfast burrito with Pinkie, both of them looking at a laptop.
When the camera went to Nix, my heart leapt in my chest. He was leaning against the door of a truck, arms crossed, showing his incredibly muscular forearms, a taped cut above his eye. How did I miss that cut this morning?
My phone buzzed. Beastie? Roger handed it to me absently while he kept skimming through digital documents that had his full diabolical attention. My attention was on the flex of Nix’s arms and chest. His shirt should be sheer.
“Hello?”
“Kitten,” Jezebel drawled. “Are you really okay with Nix staying overnight with us? If it makes the slightest difference to you, we can stuff him on a helicopter tonight and have him to you in no time at all.”
I exhaled and smiled. “I just saw you on the screen. You look so glamorous. And Trixie’s butt is clearly a show-stopper.”
She snorted. “She gave the okay for five butt shots this show. It’s in the contract.”
I giggled. Trixie’s butt was in the contract? That was hilarious. Maybe it was so funny because of my pain meds. “How many did you sign for?”
She sighed heavily. “Three. It’s so undignified, but at least I don’t get the crotch shots like Nix and Dirk. Nix sells his body more than anyone else, so I can’t really complain.”
“You can always complain.”
“I appreciate that. So, do you want him back tonight? It’s the least I can do after dropping you in that cesspit with that pink-haired sissy villain. She should have expected trap door floors.”
“Right? What kind of villain doesn’t expect trap doors in the haunted dungeon?
I’d love to have him back, but it’s better for him to be with you guys.
How is everyone doing? You and the girls, I mean.
You’ve probably had a few Girl’s Nights since Macao.
” I was so jealous of them, doing fun things like not having therapy at the hands of a sadistic doctor.
She sniffed. “Yeah, when you get out of that hospital bed, you can pick.”
“Like going to a skateboarding competition?”
“I mean, sure, we could just got to any old skateboarding competition, or we could go to one organized by a criminal overlord that deals drugs to the vulnerable and take them down.”
I giggled again. “Sounds like you have your eye on a specific target. Or, we could have a pajama party and eat snacks, watch movies, and sleep.”
She sighed again. “I suppose we could do that. Your pick. No holds barred.”
Dang, that warmed my heart that she’d come for a sleepover that didn’t involve taking down a drug lord. “Awesome. The possibilities are endless. Hey, Jezebel, can you keep an eye on Nix for me?”
“I’ve had two eyes on that critter ever since he was shot. I disliked that quite a bit. No one gets to shoot him except me. And you, of course.”
“Thank you. But you wouldn’t ever mow someone over it.”
“Probably not, But I do get in some peculiar moods from time to time. Gotta go, Kitten. I’ll tell Nix you said hi.”
“Okay. Thanks! Bye!”
Ten minutes later, on the screen where I was shamelessly ogling Nix and wishing I could keep down popcorn, Jezebel went over to him, sashayed really, then leaned up and whispered in his ear.
His eyes twinkled and then he looked straight at the camera, raised his hands over his chest, and made a heart.
I squealed like a teenager and threw myself back on the bed, I mean, I was already lying down, but I thrashed around a lot while butterflies took residence in my stomach.
He was such a bad boy, and he was all mine.
Nix Death-Hammer didn’t make heart shapes for the camera, just for me, his dramatically dying wife.
“Aw. He really knows how to play you,” Roger said helpfully.
I stuck my tongue out at him. He returned the gesture so I could see how incredibly mature we both were. I grinned at him. “The drugs you have me on are really good. Can we take a break between treatments this time?”
He rubbed his chin, frowning at his tablet. “Maybe so. At least until Nix gets back tomorrow.”
With those happy words, he left me to focus on the race. The teams were lined up, Jezebel shot at the sky, and then they were off.
The way those cars bumped and jostled was enough to make my stomach churn.
The first part of the race was trucks on dirt, but then Jezebel came out of the back of a horse trailer on the big black, vicious beast and things got really interesting.
There were other horse riders, a genuine horse race across the desert that was beautiful to watch, lit by the long golden beams.
I watched all day until night. After they’d made it to the next checkpoint, when it was getting dark and all the different team’s scores were being counted up, Roger came in and checked my eyes.
I frowned at him. “You’re in the way. I need to see how Death-Hammer did.”
“They won. No one else would dare beat them this year.”
I scowled at him. “You don’t know that.”
And then the lights flickered and went out.