Nine

Chapter 3. Take Away the Pain

I hop into my car and head over to The Grand Belsier to meet up with this brand new customer Mr. V. that Jenny booked. I’ve been to this particular hotel more times than I can count so I know my way around. I valet my car and head up the stairs to the double doors. A door attendant greets me with a smile as I walk in. I quickly make my way past him, and over to the elevators to push the up button. I notice a man approach my side as I wait. I don’t really give him too much attention, until the both of us step inside the elevator. I discreetly side eye him. I take in his shaved head and neck tattoo that readsconsumed.He’s dressed in a black suit with black dress shoes. His hands are covered in black leather gloves. He doesn’t look like the type to stay at a bougie hotel like this, and that’s what catches my attention. This place usually attracts the élite, and he seems too edgy to stay here. I scan him for a good reading. Expensive suit. Check. Expensive watch. Check. Expensive cologne. Check. I’m now just gawking at him in an attempt to figure this guy out. He looks like one of those sexy, but rough MMA fighters with his frame. I’m guessing five foot ten, maybe a hundred and eighty pounds. His cologne waivers about and it slightly distracts me. I find myself wondering what’s under that suit of his. Occupational hazard. He looks over and catches me staring at him. I smile. He turns his face forward again, which rather pisses me off.

“Is that Amouage Memoir you’re wearing? Your cologne, I mean.” I try to get his attention.

The man slowly turns his head and looks at me with brown squinted eyes. He’s intimidating for sure. He doesn’t say a single word. Instead, he turns his face forward once again and stares hard at the elevator door.

“I guess not,” I mumble.

The doors open and we both step out on the same floor. We’re now walking side by side, in the same direction as well. Every so often, I sneak little peeks at the guy. His jaw line is impeccable. He’s sexy and tough and totally ignoring me. He’s got that bad boy thing down, and honestly, I like it. Maybe I’m just interested in the challenge. I try to think of something witty to say but I run out of time. I approach the room number for my client and the gentleman from the elevator slows down awkwardly, but doesn’t stop. It’s enough to raise an eyebrow, but whatever. I watch him quickly walk down the hall and then he looks over his shoulder once before he disappears around a corner. I take in a deep breath and knock on the door.

A Hispanic man with wavy black hair answers with a grin.

“Nine?”

“Mr. V?” I smile.

He waves for me to come in. I push my breasts up and my ass out as I walk past him. I can hear him close the door behind me.

“Welcome. Please have a seat. Can I get you a drink, beautiful?” I hear a slight accent.

“No. I’m good, but thank you.”

“Come on. Just one drink. It’s not like you have to drive anywhere after this.”

He has me there. I usually don’t partake in drinking with clients. I like to keep a straight head when I go from job to job. It’s vital to not be three sheets to the wind when you’re dealing with horny men all day. Dangerous things can happen.

“Come on, Mami. One shot. I hate to drink alone.”

“Well, you do have me for the night. So I’ll take anything you got, baby.”

He smiles and turns to the bar. His back is to me as he pours the drink. I move my head to the right to notice several stacks of money on the nightstand. He quickly spins around, steps forward, and hands me a glass. I jerk my head up.

“Brandy. It’s my favorite. I hope it suits your taste,” he says.

He sits down on the bed next to me and puts his hand on my thigh.

I down the liquor as fast as I can. I’m a bit nervous. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a new customer. I watch him toss back the Brandy in his glass, and then he looks over at me and smiles. He takes my empty glass out of my hand and places it on the nightstand along with his.

“I’ve heard good things about you, Nine.”

“Is that so?”

“They say your pussy is like gold,” he purrs.

“They, whoever they are, might be right.” I bite my bottom lip and wink.

He nods and looks away like he’s waiting for something. Suddenly there is a long silence. This huge gap in the conversation happens and I start to feel uncomfortable. Just a few seconds ago, I was ready to get down to business and now a gut feeling is telling me to leave. However, I can’t. He booked me all night. The money is right there. Maybe he’s the type who likes to take his time or maybe he’s a little nervous. I sit there in character just waiting.

“Are you good with your mouth, Nine?” he says.

“Would you like to find out?” I quickly respond while I lick my lips.

He chuckles and looks away again. What the fuck is his deal? This guy is bizarre. Most men would have unzipped their pants and had me down on my knees already. I clear my throat to get his attention, because he’s just sitting there gazing at the wall. He looks down at his watch and then back over to me. He’s definitely waiting for something. I start to speak, but right then the hairs on my neck stand at attention and suddenly I don’t feel too well. I become dizzy and my skin breaks out in a sweat. I grab at my chest. I feel my heart beat slowing down and my breathing feels off. He stands up and walks in front of me and that’s when I really start to feel it. My head tips forward and it takes everything I can to keep it up. I’m staring at a double vision of the man. He’s talking to me and his words are distorted.

“What did you put in that drink?” I ask, trying to reach for my purse that carries a knife. My coordination is off. I miss my purse and grab at the blanket. “You drugged me?” I slur.

“Ketamine. It’s a neat little drug.” His words echo.

Parts of the room are fading as I look around. I feel like I may vomit and that my feet are starting to become numb. The man leans down into my face and stares into my eyes. I try to shake off this feeling. My eyelids are getting heavier with each passing second.

“You’re taking a lot of money from me, Nine, and I don’t like when people play with my money.”

I’m sitting there on the verge of passing out. His hands are rested on my shoulders and right now, they are the only thing that is keeping me from falling forward.

“Wake up. Listen to me.” He shouts. “You’re my top bitch now. Do I make myself clear?”

He’s a goddamn pimp. He pushes my chin up with one hand. My head falls back and I look up at him with my eyes glazed over.

“Fuck you,” I mumble.

He backhands me so hard I fall off the bed and onto the floor. My purse gets knocked off the bed and flies somewhere out of reach. I’m lying on my side and I can see his boots walking toward me. He walks closer and kicks me in the face. I can feel the blood spray out of my mouth and the sting spreads across my cheek. I’m now clawing at the carpet in an attempt to get away, but I can’t. I have no strength.

“The only way to make you bitches loyal is to break you first. You’ll be begging to suck my cock when I’m finished with you, Nine.”

He kicks me hard in the stomach. I cry out in pain, and as much as I want to, I can’t move. My body is totally immobile. I hear a scratchy noise, and then he covers my mouth with duct tape.

“Rule number one. I like my bitches quiet, understand? When I talk, you listen.”

I can hear him rustling with something else. He then rolls me over and puts his boot on my lower back to hold me in place.

“Rule number two. Everything you have is mine from now on.”

His boot is planted so hard on me; it feels like my back might break. I’m praying and wishing that the people in the two rooms next to us, would hear me, but I know they can’t. He then kicks me in the side with his free foot. I yell through the tape.

“Let me show you what I do to bitches who take my money.”

He begins to hit me on my back multiple times, with what feels like a belt. The burning pain stings with every lash. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I can’t breathe. I can’t see straight and I feel like I may pass out, but of course he won’t let me off that easy. Just as my eyes shut, he wraps the belt around my throat, tightens it, and begins to drag me around the room. I’m struggling to breathe through my nose and wishing to die at this moment, just so I don’t have to suffer anymore.

“What’s my name?” he asks, as he removes the tape from my mouth for a minute. He closes the belt tighter on my throat. I’m coughing and gagging on my own saliva.

“I said, what’s my name?” he repeats.

“I don’t fucking know,” I manage to grunt out.

“Daddy. You call me big daddy from now on. Understand?”

He closes the tape over my mouth again. He picks me up and slams me on the bed. He’s standing above me. My vision is blurry. He’s holding something up in the air. It’s sharp. It’s metal. I’m blinking fast in an attempt to clear my eyes. Shit, it’s a knife. It’s probably mine.

“If you run or hide from me ever, I will cut your fucking tongue out. You are mine. I own you. Say it with me now. ‘I belong to Daddy.’” I slowly shake my head. “I said, say it,” he yells.

I remain quiet. My throat has completely closed up. I can no longer feel my fingertips.

“Oh, you’re a hard-headed whore, huh? Maybe you need a little more punishment or maybe I should just kill you and make it easier on myself,” he says.

He crawls over me and straddles my hips, and covers my mouth with his hand. He then takes the knife and digs just the tip into my side. I release a muffled scream. He turns the handle of the knife back and forth so that the tip of the blade is twisting into my skin. I can’t take it anymore. I silently pray for my death. Kill me. Just kill me already, I beg in my head. That’s when I hear a pop, blood splashes across my face and the pimp comes crashing down on me. I suddenly feel the weight of his body being rolled off me. Tears are pouring hard down my face. I look up to see what appears to be a gun pointed at me. I start to cry harder. The blurry figure rips the tape off my mouth.

“Who are you?” he asks.

My brain is not functioning well enough to even respond correctly.

“Drugs. He. Drugged. Me.” I push out, in hopes that what I’m saying is coherent. I’m hoping I’m forming the right words. Can he even comprehend me?

The man pulls me up from the bed into his arms. My legs bend and my head falls back.

“Who are you?” he repeats, as he lifts my head back up. This time the words echo in my ears.

I look at his neck, which is blurry. I try to read the tattoo. It takes me a few seconds but my vision clears just long enough to read the wordconsumed. It’s the guy from the elevator.

“I. Know. You.” I push out again.

My head crashes forward to rest on his chest and my eyes look down. I notice streaks of blood on my outer thigh.

“I’m…bleeding.” I murmur. “Am I going to die?”

“Not today,” I faintly hear him say, just as my entire body gives out and my eyes close.

***

I wake to what sounds like knocking. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust and focus. I look over to see a man sitting in a wood chair nearby. He’s tapping his gun on a table and gazing straight at me. I stare down to realize I’m lying in a bed in just panties and a bra. There are bruises up and down my body and scratches all over my hands. Several of my nails are broken and dry blood drops are sprinkled across my chest, arms and stomach. Everything hurts. It feels like somebody beat me with a baseball bat and that for the life of me I can’t remember what happened. I panic and try to sit up. My heart races and my breathing quickens.

“Don’t,” he demands. I stop moving for a second, but ignore his warning and raise up.

“I said, don’t. You’ll bust your stitches.” His eyes burrow into me.

“Eat shit,” I respond, as I back up closer to the headboard.

He waves a gun toward my waist, and then nods his head for me to look.

I let my eyes trail down. On my left side, just above my hip, I see about five stitches. My fingers are trembling as I touch it.

“What’s your name?” he asks. “I know it’s not what’s on this fake-ass driver’s license. None of the info on here adds up. This address doesn’t even exist.”

He holds up my identification. I ignore his question.

“Did you do this to me?”

My throat is pained and it hurts to speak, but I do it anyway. I let my throbbing head fall into the palm of my hand. My head feels like a bomb is about to explode inside of it. I can’t even think straight. God, I hurt.

“I asked you a question.”

“Fuck off,” I shout, still holding my head. I feel like vomiting.

“Look whose tough. Not scared to die this morning?”

“Not really,”

“You looked pretty scared last night,” he says.

Last night? I close my eyes and try hard to remember what could have happened. I went to the hotel. I saw the weird, hot elevator guy with the neck tattoo that readconsumed.

I flash my eyes open, jerk my head up, and look at the guy sitting not too far from me. I glance at his neck, and there, as plain as day is the tattoo.Shit. He’s the one. I force my eyes closed again.

Then I got off the elevator and knocked on the hotel door. Mr. V. answered. I went inside, then…, and then…nothing. I can’t remember anything after that. I open my eyes and look at him.

“Death doesn’t bother me. The pain that accompanies it does,” I say.

A strange expression falls across his face. It looks like a mix between confusion and anger. He stands up and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I hear it lock. Instantly my stomach starts to turn and I feel it coming up. I toss my hand over my mouth and quickly look around. Next to the bed, I spot a small wastebasket. I kick it closer to me and attempt to hurl into it. I’m now bent over the basket just heaving. I take one hand and apply light pressure to my stitched side in fear that it may just completely burst open with all of the force happening. It takes a few minutes to collect myself after that, and just as my stomach calms down, I feel a burning sensation on my back. I stretch one hand behind me to feel several raised welts on my skin. All I want to do is cry at this point, but I don’t have it in me. I’m too weak.

“What happened to me?” I whisper to myself, as I look around the room. Where am I? I wonder. This place is old and run down. There are several cracks in the walls. Spider webs decorate every corner of the room and dust has definitely settled all over the place. It appears to be a basement. I try to stand up, but I can’t. I look over to see a bottle of water on a nightstand. I grab it and take a few sips. It coats my dry lips and washes down the bad taste in my mouth. I sit there for a second looking down at my bruised body. I’m overwhelmed by the aches that accompany the marks. I can feel acid rising up to my throat again, so I lay back down, close my eyes, and involuntarily pass out again.

***

I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I hear the sound of a door creaking open. I feel a little disoriented as I awake and try to pry my eyes open. In walks an unfamiliar guy. He’s a big man. Big as in tall. He’s tugging at his red beard as he enters. He plops down exactly where the elevator guy was sitting prior. I notice a ball of red hair that sits on top of his head.

“Youarea pretty thing, aren’t you? Even with all of those bruises. You’re a looker, girl.”

I stare at him in a vile way, as I slowly pull myself up into a sitting position again.

“What are you girls going for nowadays?”

“Excuse me?” I reply.

“Your hourly rate,” he quickly responds. “What is it?”

“You and your man bun can’t afford me,” I snap.

“How about this?” He grins, and then stands up. I watch him pull out a chunk of cash from his pocket.

“I bet you’ll ride the dick now. Am I right?” He chuckles. He walks over to the bed and runs one hand up my leg. “Just because you charge more, doesn’t make you any less of a whore, sugar tits.”

I grit my teeth as he slides his hand farther up my leg.

“Why don’t you go deep throat a cactus?” I say and pull away.

He puckers up his lips and mocks a kiss.

“Bones.” I hear the elevator guy’s voice say almost in a warning.

“C’mon Trig. I’m just playing with the chick.”

Mental note taken. Elevator guy’s name is Trig and the red-haired douche is Bones. Police will need that information if I ever make it out of here alive. As if I would even go to the police, but it’s still good to know.

“Out, now! This was my contract,” Trig yells.

“Yeah, but who helped you clean up,” Bones shoots back.

“Get out,” Trig barks.

Bones turns and winks at me, and then slowly backs up, until he leaves the room. He shuts the door behind him.

Trig walks farther into the room carrying a plate of food. I can smell eggs and bacon. He sits down, takes his gun from his lower back, and places it on the table. He then presumes to nibble at the food in front of me.

“Hungry?” he asks, and points down to the plate. Just the smell alone makes me sick. I look away and quickly place one hand over my mouth. Once my stomach settles I slowly turn and look at him. He’s glancing over at the puke-filled wastebasket.

“If you’re not going to eat, at least drink some water,” he adds.

He springs up from his seat and comes closer. I watch as he grabs the basket and walks it outside. He enters the room again, closing the door behind him. I continue to stare as he sits down. He pushes his chair away from the table and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His thighs are spread apart and it feels like an interview is about to take place. He points to the water on the stand next to me. I pick it up to amuse him. He continues to stare at me so I unscrew the lid and take a few drinks.

“Happy?” I say.

“I’d like to know who you are. Give me a first name at least,” he says.

“It’s Nine. Can I go home now?”

“What type of name is Nine?” He arches his eyebrow and licks his lips.

“I don’t know. What type of name is Trig?” I say through my teeth.

He nods. “Touché, Nine. Let’s try this again. What’s your real name?”

“What’syourreal name,Trig?” I fire back. He smiles again in frustration.

“You do realize I have a gun?” he calmly asks.

“If you wanted to kill me you would have done it already.”

“Or maybe I’m waiting for the right time.” He cocks his neck back.

I stay silent. He’s right. I’m acting as if I have the upper hand and I don’t. I’m damaged, sitting here in pain, in some tore up old basement, on an old mattress in my underwear, with some complete stranger. I should be scared, but as usual, I’m in bitch mode. Maybe it’s the pain talking or maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.

“How long have you worked for Victor?”

“Who?”

“I don’t have time for games. How long have you worked for the guy at the hotel?” I stare blankly at him. “You know, the prick that did that number on you.” He waves his hand out in front of him.

I freeze up as a memory of Mr. V. backhanding me strikes. It’s followed by another memory of a boot to my face. I gasp and then stare up at Trig.

“You didn’t think I did that to you, did you?” His face is stern.

“Victor is Mr. V.,” I say to myself, as I continue to try to piece things together in my head from last night. “I don’t work for anyone,” I mutter.

“Why the beat down then?”

“I don’t…know,” I say, embarrassed. “I just remember him smacking me and then his boot kicking me in the face. Right here.” I reach up and feel my cheek.

Trig pulls out a little medicine bottle and places it on the table.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“This is Ketamine. It’s usually used for anesthesia. Some use it as a date rape drug. I found it on Victor at the hotel. Ketamine has a tendency to cause vomiting, headaches, distorted images, memory gaps, sometimes complete memory loss.”

I can recall Victor’s voice now. “Ketamine. It’s a neat little drug.”

“The liquor. He handed me a glass of Brandy last night. He spiked my drink.”

Little bits and pieces are coming to me. I close my eyes, and that’s when I get an image of Trig. He’s holding me in his arms, and I’m bleeding. I flash open my eyes and look up at Trig.

“What were you doing at the hotel? Why were you there?” I question.

Trig remains quiet. My insides are burning with questions. I look down at the bed sheet, trying to make sense of it all, but I can’t.

“What happened in that room?” I shout. He looks down at the floor.

“I was walking by and I heard you screaming, so I busted in,” Trig says.

That’s when it all starts trickling in. I ball up my fist as fragments of the night bang against my temple, almost as if they want to be remembered. I place my hands over my ears. The sound of the tape being stretched out before Victor placed it over my mouth echoes through me. I hear his words so clearly.

“Let me show you what I do to bitches who take my money.”

I shake my head. “No you didn’t. He taped my mouth shut. I remember now. His hand was covered over my entire mouth at some point. You couldn’t have heard me scream.”

I let my hands fall down to my lap.

“What else do you remember?” Trig looks concerned.

My eyes water up as I continue to shake my head. Trig is waiting for it. The memories are bombarding my brain. The knife. The belt around my neck. The gunshot, the blood, and the body falling on me. My heart starts to beat faster now. My airways feel constricted and my stomach is sick again.

Trig remains quiet.

“You killed him,” I finally say.

I blink away the tears and then pull myself up to a standing position. Trig immediately shoots up from his chair. I groan in pain and slump forward catching my weight on the bed. Trig scurries over and reaches for me.

“Don’t touch me. I want to go home,” I demand. “Take me home, now.”

“You can’t, Nine.”

“Why,”

“You just can’t,” he says.

“I can’t. I can’t. You keep saying that. Why the hell not?” I yell. The pain rips through my body. I bend over and balance my hands on my knees. Trig grabs my arm.

“You weren’t supposed to leave that hotel alive.” He pauses. “I had orders to kill you.”

I look up at him in shock. He had orders to kill me. But why? I lick my dry, cracked lips.

“Sit down and drink some water,” Trig says. “You look like you might faint again.”

I sit down and breathe a little easier as the pain in my body subsides. Trig walks over, grabs the water bottle off the table, and brings it back to me. I watch as he takes a prescription bottle out of his jacket. He unscrews the cap and drops one pill into the palm of his hand. He then stretches his hand out to me.

“I’m not taking that. I’ve been drugged enough for one night, thank you.”

“It’s a painkiller. You’re in pain. Take it,” he commands.

I look at him in hesitation, and then I stare down nervously at my bare bruised legs. I’m clenching my mouth closed in fear. I don’t want it, but I need it.

“I’m not asking you, Nine. I’m telling you.”

He puts one finger under my chin and gently tilts my head up to look at him. “Now open.”

He runs his thumb over my bottom lip and pulls it down. I cooperate and let my mouth drop open wide enough for him to push the pill in. I lock eyes with him as he tips the water bottle up to my mouth. A few drops dribble off my lips. He takes his warm thumb and rubs it across my chin. The sensation of him touching me makes me hold my breath. He quickly pulls his hand away when he realizes what he’s doing. I have to remind myself to breathe again.

“You said someone ordered you to kill me. Who? Why?” I blurt out.

Just as I say that, something dawns on me.

“Shit. You’re a hitman, aren’t you?”

“Don’t ask me questions you can’t handle hearing the answers to,” he replies.

“You killed a man last night, and I’m currently wearing his blood. I think I deserve a few answers.”

“I saved your life. I think that’s more than enough if you ask me.”

I watch as he pulls out a cigarette from his pants pocket and lights it up.

“You expect answers from me, but you won’t answer any of mine. Pshh.”

“That’s not how it works. You don’t get to make demands. You don’t get what you want here.” Trig takes a puff of his cigarette and blows out the smoke. He’s slightly pissed.

My brain is spinning. I start thinking of Victor and how a maid probably found his dead body.

“Oh my god. My fingerprints and blood are all over that room. It’s going to look like I did it. This is a setup, isn’t it?” I close my eyes.

“We swept the hotel. That is the last of your worries right now.”

“Swept, as in cleaned up the place, or swept, as in you moved the body?” I ask.

“Stop!” he shouts. “Enough with the questions.”

I jump at his booming voice. The room fills with silence.

“Just kill me already,” I quietly say, as my head drops.

“Just kill me. Take away the pain.That’s what you kept mumbling throughout the whole night. I’m starting to think I should have just shot you at the hotel.”

“You actually stayed awake all night, watching me?” I question.

Trig pretends not to hear me and looks around the room.

“I was drugged, beat, and stabbed. What else would you expect a victim to say?” I continue.

His dark brown eyes burrow into me as his head tilts to the side.

“I have a hunch that’s not what you meant when you said take away the pain.”

He’s sure quick with the comebacks. I shoot him a look that I’m not even sure of. He keeps his eyes on me. He’s staring hard, almost like he can see through me.

Right then, Bones walks in. “We got trouble upstairs.”

Trig takes a puff of his cigarette and blows the smoke up to the ceiling.

He walks over and gets right up into my face. His whole attitude changes.

“I need some answers, Nine. We’re losing time. This isn’t going to end well if you don’t help me, especially if that’s who I think it is upstairs.”

His tone scares the shit out of me.

“I don’t know what you want. I don’t work for anyone. I never met that guy before last night. I know nothing. Just tell me what to do. I’ll cooperate if you let me go. Nobody has to know about what happened. It’s between you and me.” I’m just spouting off in fear now.

“Fuck!” Trig yells, and walks out of the room. Bones peeks in and shakes his head at me before closing and locking the door.

I sit here replaying last night in my head. What information does, Trig want from me? I have nothing to offer. I’m going crazy here wondering who’s upstairs. Is it the person who wants me dead? Twenty minutes or so passes and the door swings open and in walks Trig, Bones and another man who makes my heart stop. He’s tall, husky, and has a scar that runs down one side of his face. He stands before me in an all-white suit. His dark eyes set upon me like a tiger does to a gazelle.

“The girl who goes by Nine. That’s cute.” He pauses and looks at Trig and then back to me. My spine shrinks and my legs shake with just one stare. “Do you know who I am?” he asks.

I shake my head. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears now.

“On the streets they call me, The Savior.”

My eyes widen and my heart quickens. I’ve heard rumors of this guy. He’s the top drug dealer in this area and he’s ruthless. People would have to be insane to mess with him.

“Oh, you’ve heard of me. Perfect. That makes my job here easier.”

He grabs a lock of my red hair and twirls it around his finger.

“Nine, I have a problem and I need your help.”

I look at Trig and then over to Bones. They remain perfectly still like statues.

“Your buddy Victor took something really important to me. Something that is worth a lot of money. I would be forever in your debt if you told me where I can find my drugs at.”

“I-I-I don’t know anything. He’s not my buddy. I just met him last night.”

The Savior laughs at me. He bends over and places his hands on both sides of my face.

“You’re such a pretty girl. It would be a shame to have to cut the skin off your face for lying. We both know you work for him. So again, I ask you this, where are my drugs?”

“I’m telling the truth,” I quickly reply. “I work for myself.”

“Shhhhhh,” he places his finger to my mouth. “Bones, hand me a knife,” he commands.

Bones takes a knife out of his pocket and hands it over to the psycho.

“I don’t know anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I start to panic.

I look to Trig for help, but he’s staring off into the distance. I start to cry.

“You leave me no option, Nine. Maybe after a few incisions you’ll remember something.”

The knife comes toward my face and I close my eyes in fear.

“Stop,” Trig says. “Let me have the honor. It was my brother after all.”

I flash open my eyes and look around. The Savior stands up and hands the knife over to Trig. He shakes his head. “Not my style. I like to deliver death quick and clean.”

Trig looks at me and then back to The Savior. “Victor gave her drugs. She’s just coming off of them. Give me twenty fours and if she doesn’t give, I’ll kill her execution style on your dinner table.”

The Savior nods his head with acceptance. He looks back to me and then steps closer. He puts both hands on my shoulders.

“It would really be a pity to kill you. I could make a lot of money off you, honey. You should thank Trig. He just bought you twenty-four hours. I suggest you use that time wisely.”

He leans down and kisses the top of my head. I briefly close my eyes in disgust. Bones and The Savior turn and exit the room. I watch them from the edge of the bed.

“Twenty-four hours, Bones. Not a minute more,” The Savior says in the hallway. They both glance in one last time before the door closes.

I look to Trig who is staring through me again.

“Are you going to kill me? I swear I don’t know anything about his drugs.”

“I know,” Trig says.

I start to open my mouth, but he answers my question before I can even ask it.

“I’m good at analyzing people. It’s my gift from the good Lord above.” He points one finger up. “Or you could just say that I’m highly skilled at reading body language.” He pauses. “Liars hold shame in their entire body. Their eyes shift. Their body tenses up. Their cheeks, neck, and forehead redden in fault. They start to perspire in fear. It’s like a domino effect within the body. The average person can’t lie without the body producing a guilt response.

“Yeah, what do you see when you look at me?” I ask, scared of what he might say.

“Fear and pain,” he responds.

“How do you know that I’m not just a good actress?”

“Because your chest is getting red just as you asked me that.”

He walks over, sits on the bed, and leans in to me. His lips are close to my ear. I feel his arm come around my neck. He places his hand over my heart. I can feel heat radiate from his skin.

“You feel that?” he says.

“My heart?” I ask, trembling.

“No, not your heart. I could see it thumping through your chest from across the room. I’m talking about the little prickles that run across your skin…now that’s fear,” he whispers into my ear, as he drags his fingertips across my chest.

My throat instantly dries up and I can’t think straight. Trig quickly removes his arm from me and stands up. I watch him walk toward the door to leave.

“Yeah, and what on my body shows you I’m in pain besides all of these bruises and cuts?” I yell out. I expect him to say something long and winded, but he doesn’t.

He slows to a stop, but he keeps his back to me. “It’s not your body, baby. It’s your eyes.”