Nine

Chapter 4. Hero Syndrome

I’ve been trapped here in this basement for days now. It’s windowless and lonely. Trig comes in to examine my injuries, force food and medicine down my throat, and ask questions I refuse to answer, but that’s it. I don’t even know why he bothers. He could just kill me, but instead he’s wasting his time doctoring me up. I don’t get him at all. Nonetheless, I’m still confused and frustrated. It’s just me, my thoughts, and the silence of these four walls. I feel like I’m going crazy. My thoughts run reckless in this room and I hate it. I hate that every memory I’ve ever buried has resurfaced purely out of boredom, and I can’t make it stop. It pains me. I blame Trig for it, for keeping me caged up in this room like a wounded dog.

I’m completely out of touch. I’ve lost track of what day of the week it is, and these small things are enough to make me feel displaced and forgotten. Although I’ve convinced myself it’s morning time, based off my internal clock, I really don’t have a clue. My stomach rumbles and it reminds me that I’m hungry. I feel weak and my body still hurts, but at least my appetite has returned. I get up from the bed to stretch. My head briefly throbs, but nothing like before. I lick my cracked lips and try to swallow my saliva to coat my raw, dry throat. All it does is make me cough. I’m thirsty and I also need to pee. I look down at the wobbly makeshift toilet and frown. I’m not using that raggedy-ass red bucket that Bones brought in. Yesterday I squatted on the thing and almost tipped it over on the floor. It makes the whole room smell like piss anyway.

I begin to pace back and forth and the red piss bucket of doom is looking better and better. Just as I contemplate using it, I hear the door being unlocked. Trig walks in. He’s showered because I can smell clean shampoo, and he’s definitely changed. He’s now sporting some jeans and a white tee. I see a tattoo on his arm peeking out from underneath his shirt. He comes toward me with a plate of food? a water bottle, and some rope. I can smell eggs and pancakes. My stomach rumbles again. He sets the plate on the table while looking at me. I’m holding my crotch uncomfortably and wiggling around.

“Would you like to go to the bathroom, Nine?”

“Unless you’d like me to piss myself.” I smirk.

“I take it the bucket isn’t good enough for you.”

I glare at him.

“I figured that much. The bathroom is upstairs and down the hall. I’ll have to tie your hands.”

“Is this really necessary?” I ask, as he steps forward and grips my wrist.

“Yes, I believe if given the chance to, you’d kill me to get away.”

He wraps the rope tightly around my wrist, and walks me over to the door. He takes his gun from his lower back and points it at me.

“I’m going to open this door. I expect you to behave.”

I nod.

He opens it and walks me up a set of stairs and down a long hallway to the bathroom. The first thing I notice is sunlight, because I miss it. The house is quiet and just as torn up as the basement is. He guides me into a room at the end of the hall and stands there as I walk toward the toilet. I swing around to see him eyeing me.

“So, you’re just going to watch me pee?” I ask.

“Nothing I haven’t saw before, sweetheart.”

“Well, since you tied my hands, can you at least help me?” I nod down.

Trig walks over and kneels in front of me. He hooks his thumbs on the top of my panties and slowly pulls my underwear down, not once breaking eye contact with me. I feel my breath stop somewhere in my chest and it takes a while for me to remember to breathe again. He stands up and walks backward toward the door. I hurry and sit down. His eyes are still on me.

“I can’t pee with you just staring at me like that.”

“Fine,” he says, and turns to his side.

After I finish, I do the best I can to wipe and flush the toilet. Trig swings around. I’m standing there with my panties around my ankles. He eyes me from head to toe. I clear my throat and hold up my hands to remind him that I’m still tied up. He nods and walks back over to help me pull my underwear up. I feel his warm fingers graze my bare skin in the process. I involuntarily moan, which causes him to look up at me. He slowly rises, and then stands directly in front of me.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he says. His eyes search my face.

I lick my bottom lip. He takes his hand and reaches out to touch my cheek. I flinch as his fingers brush against a tender area. He pulls back in response, and part of me is saddened that his hand is no longer on me. Is this what being locked away does to me? Am I that starved for attention that a simple touch from Trig makes me feel good? I’m not comfortable with what I’m feeling now. The fact that I get some type of pleasure from this is wrong. I look down at my wrist to remind myself that I’m a prisoner. The reality sinks in that this guy is going to kill me soon. I pull my knee up hard into his crotch, and then I make a hard exit out of the bathroom. Trig leans forward and groans in pain. I run toward the living room to get to the front door. Just as I place my hand on the doorknob, I hear the click of the revolver next to my head. I turn to see Trig standing behind me. He’s pissed. He has one hand holding the gun and the other holding his dick.

“I swear to God, Nine. I will shoot your skinny little ass, right on the spot. Don’t take my kindness for weakness. Back to the basement,” he yells, and waves the gun toward the hallway.

I walk past him with my head down. As soon as I get to the basement door, I spin around. I feel panicky. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be some basement bitch sitting around in her panties waiting to die. The anxiety alone is killing me.

“Don’t,” Trig warns.

“Why don’t you just kill me? Shoot me and get it over with. That’s your job, right? Boss’s orders? I have no info for you. Pull the trigger, Trig. Just fucking do it,” I yell.

He backs me up against the door and grabs my face firmly in the palm of his hand.

“Don’t push me, because I’ll have no problem doing it,” he says through his teeth. “Remember, you’re not in charge here, pumpkin. I’m not one of your customers. You can save that tough act for your bedroom play.”

“Fuck you,” I yell.

I pull my face out of his hands and stare at him in disgust.

“Maybe another time.” He smirks, as he grabs my arm and shoves me inside the room.

He stands in the doorway, strips off his white shirt, and tosses it at me. I catch it and stare down at the ball of fabric in my hands, and then back up to him. I take in his tribal chest and sleeve tattoo that runs down the left side of his body.

“Cover up that shit…You’re like a goddamn temptress.” He waves his hand toward my body.

I slide it over my head and stare at him in irritation. He takes a step back and slams the door.

Trig’s scent is all over the shirt and I can’t help but pull the collar up to my nose. He’s wearing the same cologne he did that night in the elevator. I quickly release the fabric. I hate thinking about what happened in that room. I’m still in pain and every time I move I’m reminded of Victor.

I turn my head and look over to the table to see the plate of food that Trig had brought in earlier. I’m famished at this point, so I run over and start shoving eggs and pancakes into my mouth, as if I’ve never eaten before. I drown it all down with the bottle of water he left me as well. After I eat and damn near lick the plate clean, I look down at the fork on my plate. It’s not my weapon of choice, but it will work. I grab it and place it in a position where I can use it for self-defense. The handle is gripped between my fingers, and the prongs are sticking out. I sit down in the chair and wait, and wait and wait. I’m waiting so long that my ass hurts. Trig never returns. Hours are passing and I’ve now gone from sitting to standing to laying spread out on the floor. I hear the door unlock, and then it creaks open. I pull myself up to a standing position. Trig takes one look at me and laughs.

“Are you going to stab me with that fork?”

“I might,” I respond, as I pull my chin up.

I look down to see that he’s carrying a small brown paper bag.

“Or you could just use your fork for this.”

He holds the bag up higher.

I frown at my feeble attempt to kill Trig. He nods to the table. I trudge over and sit in the chair, fork in hand still. He tosses the bag on the table.

“Fork, please,” he says.

I lift my hand and drop the fork on the table.

“What’s in the bag?” I say, as I keep my eyes directed off Trig.

He pushes the bag toward me.

I slowly pull it closer to me and peek inside.

“A cupcake. You brought me a chocolate cupcake?” I squint my eyes at him.

I’m pissed. What hitman goes out and buys a cupcake? I’m lost for words. It’s incredibly hard to be mad at your captor when he’s doing un-killer like things.

He looks at me for a while and then he leans all the way back in his chair.

“Do you have a problem with cupcakes?” Trig asks.

“No. Just you.” I push the bag back toward him.

He slides it right back at me, and then leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“So this is how it’s going to go. I ask a question. You answer, and then you get a bite. It’s easy. It’s enjoyable and everybody wins. You look like you could use the sugar anyway.”

“You’re forcing me to eat?”

“You eat and play the game or I kill you.”

“Whatever,” I say, as I slump into my chair.

“Name?”

I roll my eyes and exhale. “I’m not playing this game.”

“Yes, you are.” He taps the fork on the table. “Name?” he repeats.

“Fine. It’s Storm Wilson.”

Trig pulls his chair closer to me. He digs the fork into the cupcake and places it up to my lips. I slowly open my mouth and then he shoves it in.

“Why was Victor trying to kill you?”

I take a moment to swallow. The cupcake is pretty damn good, but I’m not telling him that.

“He wasn’t trying to kill me; at least he wasn’t at first. He was trying to break me. I take a lot of business in the area. I’m good to my customers. Clients have left his girls to come see me. It’s a money loss game for these guys. This wasn’t the first time a pimp has harassed me over the years. I’m worth a lot out on the streets. I bring in more profit than any girl in Las Vegas does. He wanted to bring me on board to be his little cash cow.”

Trig breaks off another piece of cupcake and holds the fork up.

“I need those drugs back. Do you haveanyinformation on Victor that would help me? Did he say anything to you that night at the hotel?”

“Are you really asking me if we had pillow talk?” I point to my face. “Does this look like we sat down and had a nice conversation?”

“I’m just trying to help you, Nine…or Storm, or whoever you are.”

“Yeah. Sure you are. How does this benefit you?”

Trig shakes his head.

“Oh. That’s right. I don’t get to ask questions. You’re totally off limits.” I huff.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“I don’t fucking know anything. How many more times do I have to keep repeating it? Why don’t you search his house, and rummage through all of his shit?”

“I did,” he quickly replies.

“I take it you didn’t find much.”

“No. I found something alright.” I stare at him with curiosity. “I found surveillance pictures of you.”

“Well, that’s creepy.”

He drops the fork and holds up the entire cupcake. I lean in and take an angry bite. I feel the frosting mash against my skin. I lift my tied hands up to wipe if off.

“Stop. You’re just making it worse,” he says.

He reaches over and wipes a smudge of chocolate from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. He then takes that same thumb and places it up to his lips, and slowly sucks it off. I just stare like a deer in headlights. Fuck. He’s hot. He seriously makes heat rise from places where it shouldn’t at the time being. I’m all kinds of twisted right now. I shouldn’t feel this way about somebody who’s holding me hostage. My hands are tied up for God’s sake. He did save my life though, but he’s a hitman of some sort. At least I assume he is, which means he kills people for a living. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m suffering from hero syndrome, right? Trig rushed in and saved me, which is probably part of the reason I can’t think straight. I can’t differentiate if he’s a good or a bad guy. Most girls would probably be feeling the same way or maybe I’m just that disturbed.

“Nine!” he says. I snap out of my thoughts. “I’m talking to you.”

“What?”

“I asked you who Jenny is.”

I look at him for a minute. He recites off a cell phone number that belongs to her.

I stare at him confused.

“Jenny – who is she?”

“She’s my roommate and my assistant. Why?”

“How does one assist a prostitute?”

“Escort,” I correct him with angry eyes, as if the word prostitute is beneath me.

Trig looks at me and nods.

“Tell me more. How do you know her? What did she do for you?”

I look at his gun and then back up to him. I decide to give him a short version of our back-story, which includes where we met, and how we started in the business. I explain to him that Jenny is a number cruncher, and that she does all of my accounting and sets up my appointments.

“Why are you asking about Jenny?”

“Phone records. She’s made and received several calls to and from Victor.”

“What?” I say, surprised as I push back my chair. “That’s not what she told me.”

I think back to when she said that he had called a month ago and then once yesterday morning.

“Well, she lied to you.”

I feel pissed, but I’m not sure whom at. Trig or Jenny.

“What are you saying? You think Jenny was involved with Victor.” I scoff. “Where do you get off even suggesting that?” I squint my eyes in disbelief. “You don’t know her.” I bang my fist down on the table.

“Nine!” Trig warns.

“No. Fuck you and this cupcake and all of these questions. I’m done.”

I attempt to stand up. Trig leans his body forward and quickly reaches out. He hooks his fingers between both of my wrists, catching the rope.

“Sit,” he demands.

I’m shaking, I’m so mad.

“How many calls,” I shout, as I plop back down. “I want to know how many times they talked.”

“At least fifteen, if not more. All within a short window.”

There would be no reason for her to talk to any of our clients fifteen times. There had to be a reasonable explanation for it. I stare down at the table in shock. I don’t want to believe that she sent me to that hotel for the beating of my life.

“She’s loyal. She would never –”

“People do things all the time that we think they would never do,” he cuts me off.

Water builds up in the corner of my eyes. I feel one tear fall down my cheek. I turn my head away so Trig can’t see my face. I’m angry and hurt.Jesus, Jenny. What did you do?

“How do you do it every day?” he asks.

“Do what?” I swing my head around and glare at him. “Escort? I can’t believe you, of all people, are asking me this.”

“Look, I’m not passing judgment. You seem like you might be a nice girl.”

I roll my eyes at the irony. A killer is asking me how I fuck men every day. This is epic.

“Easy. I get paid. It’s a job.” I pause. “And you. How do you do what you do every day, Trig? How do you kill people?”

He clears his throat and finally I get the confirmation that I need.

“I don’t really have a choice. I have to.”

“You have to kill people. Bullshit.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Make me understand,” I say, surprising myself.

He shakes his head.

Right then the door flies open. The Savior walks in with two huge men. Bones comes in right behind them, mouthing ‘sorry’ to Trig.

“How is my pretty little girl today?” The Savior asks, looking straight at me.

Both Trig and I spring up out of our seats at the same time. Trig steps in front of me.

“You gave me twenty-four hours,” he says.

“I changed my mind.” The Savior grins.

“We had a deal.”

“Yeah, we also had a deal for you to go in, get the information, and kill Victor. You seemed to have forgotten the plan, because you went in, killed the guy, saved the girl, and came back with no whereabouts of my drugs. I specifically told you to get rid of her that night at the hotel. She’s a witness and I can’t have loose ends lying around. You’re not as sloppy as your brother was, but you’re just as stupid. I’m tired of waiting. She either has something for me or she doesn’t, and if she doesn’t, then she’s of no use.”

The Savior looks over Trig’s shoulder to me. “Tell me good news, my love. Tell me where my drugs are.”

I shake my head. The Savior throws one hand up.

“We could have taken care of this problem hours ago. Now move, Trig.”

The Savior pulls his gun out from his waistband and points it toward us.

“I can’t let you do that,” Trig says, as he pulls his gun out and points it at The Savior.

The Savior’s two men turn and pull their guns out on Trig. Bones draws his gun and points it at the two men. I hold my breath, afraid that the slightest noise will spark a massacre. I don’t think anyone is making it out of this room alive.

“All of this over a whore? Have you lost your mind?” The Savior asks, grinning. “Come on, Trig. Just move out of the way and let’s put this behind us.”

Trig doesn’t respond. He hasn’t even moved. I’m standing behind him like he’s my shield.

“I knew it would come to this. You’re nothing like your brother. At least he had balls. He wasn’t as soft as you are. He was one crazy son of a bitch. He never would’ve let a piece of pussy fuck up his head, but you…you want her. You actually want that used up slut, for what?”

Trig remains calm and still.

“Did she suck you off in this room? Did she make you feel good?” He pauses. “What did she do to you to make you act like such a little bitch?”

“Victor is dead. It’s over. I’m out,” Trig finally responds.

“You’re out when I say you’re out,” The Savior yells. “Do you see my drugs here? Because I don’t. So until I see them in my possession or the equivalent in money thenyouare still in.”

“I brought you the money I found at the hotel. I’m out,” Trig says through his teeth.

The Savior laughs and rubs his chin. All guns are still up in the air and pointed at each other.

“Don’t insult me. Ten thousand is nothing,” he shouts. “And right now neither are you. So here’s my offer. I’ll let you walk out of here completely free, but the girl stays. Maybe she lives. Maybe she dies. Who knows? It doesn’t really matter, but you, you get to be a free man. Deal?”

Oh my god. He has the opportunity to sacrifice me to the devil and just walk away. What sane person wouldn’t take that offer to save themselves? I reach out and place both of my hands on Trig’s back. I want to remind him that I’m still here. I want to silently communicate to him and beg him not to leave me. He reaches one hand back and pulls me closer to him. My chest is now pushed up against his back, and my head is leaning against his shoulder blade. He assures me with that one move that he hasn’t forgotten me.

“You don’t make fair deals. The moment I leave here, somebody will put a bullet in my brain.”

“Or I could just do it now,” The Savior says.

Suddenly one single shot fires. Trig turns and grabs me, tossing me aside. My sore body crashes against the floor. I look up to see that Trig dodged the bullet, and is now firing off rounds of his own. I quickly crawl over and underneath the bed. I hear more shots being fired off and then I see The Savior’s two men both drop dead on the floor. One of their bodies falls right in front of the bed. He’s so close I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. I place my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. I hear more gunshots and then I see The Savior’s body drop down to the floor. I watch as Trig’s black boots walk across the room toward him. I can see the gun lower and then pop, pop, pop. Trig fires three more bullets into him. The room fills with silence for a minute, but the ringing in my ears continues.

“Are you crazy? This could start a war. You know he has connections with the cartel,” Bones says.

“She’s innocent. Since when do we kill good people?”

“Uh, since we get paid to do it. That’s when. Let me remind you that you’re still on some IOU type shit with him, so...”

“Not anymore,” Trig says. “He’s dead.”

“Dude. This is my house. You bring a chick here, then you have the boss track me down, and then you kill him in my basement. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“You have medical experience and you have drugs here,” Trig replies.

“I use to be a paramedic, not a damn doctor, and the drugs were not free by the way. I expect some type of compensation for that whole night. I got out of bed, came down to the hotel, and helped you sweep that room. I helped you dispose of that body, and I helped move and treat that hooker. Now throw me a fucking bone and help me out here. ”

“How many times have I had your back?” Trig asks.

My throat starts to close and my chest begins to hurt. I can hardly breathe. I think I’m having some type of panic attack and it’s all because this dead man lying there keeps staring at me.

“Just know this. You’re the one that brought a shit storm to our front door, not me. Congratulations, asshole.”

I can feel myself taking in more air than I should as a puddle of blood begins to move its way on the floor toward me. I try to push my arms up and scoot back from it, but I can’t. I’m hyperventilating and my arms start to shake. The blood touches my fingernail and if I could scream, I would.

“I suggest you leave town then,” Trig says. “Consider both of our debts paid.”

“Paid? I’ll have a bounty on my head after tonight,” Bones says. “And so will you.”

I see the bedframe above me being lifted up, but I’m paralyzed. Trig is standing directly over me, calling out my name. I’m shaking so badly I can’t even fix my mouth to speak.

“Shit, she’s in shock.” Trig says. “I got her. Just hold up the frame.”

He scoops me up and over his shoulder. He starts to carry me toward the door.

“So you’re just going to leave me here to clean up this mess?” Bones says.

“Dude, just go. Get out. Get as far away as possible. You’re free now.”

“No, fuck that,” Bones replies. “When your brother died and they threw you into this shit with me, you said we were in this together.”

Trig stops and swings around. “You coming then or what? We can’t stay another minute.”

I don’t hear a response. Trig swings around again and walks out of the room and down the hallway. All I can see are the marks in the dirty carpet. He makes a swift turn and opens another door that looks like a garage. I hear a car door open and he places me down and shoves me to the side.

“She barely has any clothes on, Trig. Is she wearing your shirt? What if we get pulled over? She looks like we beat the hell out of her. Look at her.”

It takes me a while to notice this is my car, but I can’t speak yet.

“Just drive,” he says, and tosses the keys to Bones as he gets in and closes the door.

I sit there shaking. I’m not sure if I can recover from this. I just watched three men get killed and the look on that dead man’s face will haunt me forever.

“Are you okay?” Trig says.

I can’t answer him.

He slides over and attempts to put his arm around me. I look up at him. Trig’s face suddenly looks like Victor’s and now my throat feels tight. I remember the feeling of a belt wrapped around my neck. I start screaming and crying and kicking Trig away. I’m officially having my first psychotic breakdown.

“What the hell is going on back there?” Bones shouts.

“Nine!” Trig yells. “Stop and look at me.” I keep fighting him. “I see you,” he yells, and places my head between his hands. “It’s okay. Breathe.”

It takes a minute but I start to calm down when I realize he’s not Victor. He carefully grabs my wrists and slowly unties them. He then calmly reaches over and takes his time to pull me close to him. I’m frozen and part of me needs comfort, even if it is from a stranger. Even if Trig is a killer. He just saved my life again. I’ll allow myself to be pulled in, but only by him. I let my head fall against his chest and I begin to sob. Trig gently cups the back of my head.

“She’s not well at all, man. What the hell was that?” Bones yells back.

“She just needs time to recover. That’s all.” He pauses. “She obviously can’t travel in this condition. Let’s head up to the cabin.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bones says.

“I know exactly what I’m doing; now give me your cell phone. We need to toss both of these out now. No tracer.”

Bones reaches back and hands Trig his phone. Trig pulls his from his back pocket and opens the window, tossing them both out. I sit there hanging on to Trig’s neck with my face buried into his bare chest. The smell of his skin is familiar and for whatever reason it makes me feel secure or maybe it’s him.

“We could just drop her off at her place. One less thing to worry about,” Bones suggests.

“Just drive the damn car to the cabin,” Trig commands.

“All I’m saying is that we could be on a plane in no time if we didn’t have to deal with her. Those bruises and cuts all over her face will take at least a week or two to heal. Do we have two weeks, Trig? Think about it.”

“More driving. Less talking,” Trig orders.

“You rescue a girl with a gun name, and suddenly you lose edge. Trig and Nine. Stupidest fucking names ever. I bet you must think that she’s your soulmate now based off of that shit too.” Bones bitterly mumbles to himself.

Trig settles back into his seat and clutches me closer. I stay silent because I don’t know what else to do. I remain in his arms because it’s the safest I’ve ever felt in my life. There is something about the way he said the wordsI see you. With my head resting against him, I look out the window and watch as we drive away.

***

The car pulls to a stop.Finally, I think. We’ve been driving for hours, and I didn’t care to talk about what just happened, so instead, I’ve been pretending to sleep. I crack open my eyes just enough to realize we’re parked at a gas station. I watch Bones get out of the car, and then I see his body work its way around the vehicle toward Trig’s window. I quickly close my eyes. Tap. Tap. Tap. His knuckles hit against the glass. Trig rolls down his window.

“I’m going inside to pay for gas. Do you want something?”

“No, I’m good. She might be hungry when she wakes up. Find something in there that girls like.”

“”What? Like Starburst or somethin’?”

“I don’t know. Use your best judgment.”

Trig’s clearly irritated.

I hear the window go back up, and then I feel Trig take his fingers and gently play with the ends of my hair. He thinks I’m knocked out, so I do my best not to move. He adjusts his body slightly as he continues to stroke my hair. My internal thoughts are battling with each other and at this point, I’m not sure which side makes more sense.

Why am I letting this happen? Where is that no tolerance girl at that I used to be?

But this feels nice. He feels good. He saved you. He’s still saving you.

Pull your shit together. What the hell are you thinking? Get your head out of your ass and make a run for it.

“You are definitely trouble, girl,” Trig says to himself. “You’re gonna get me killed. Crazy thing is…”

Tap. Tap. Tap. He gets interrupted. I hear the window being rolled down again.

“Okay. I got some Slim Jims, a Butterfinger, and some powdered doughnuts.”

“This is what you thought she might eat? This food is shit.”

“Excuse me.I’ll ask them for their fine dining menu next time. Asshole,” Bones says.

“Whatever. Just get in the car and watch her. I have to go take a leak.”

I feel Trig slide out from under me, and then I hear his door open and shut. I crack open my eyes to see Bones upfront stuffing his face. He turns on the music low. I wait for a while, and then I slowly slide over and quietly open my car door. That’s when I jump out. My bare feet hit the concrete and I take off running toward the little mini mart. I begin to scream for help. The worker inside looks out of her window. Bones dashes out of the car and grabs me by my waist. We are now wrestling near a gas pump when a shirtless Trig runs out. His eyes fill with worry as he sprints over and grabs me. He tosses me over his shoulder and then he throws me in the back of the car. I’m fighting him this entire time and yelling at the top of my lungs. If I can just get one good punch in then maybe I can jump back out of this car. Bones hops in on the driver’s side and squeals out of the lot.

“Are you crazy?” Trig yells. His face is beet red and he’s breathing hard.

“You can’t keep me as your hostage. Like I’m your personal pet or something,” I shout.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Trig snorts. He turns his attention to Bones. “Step on the gas. That little stunt is going to screw up everything. If a cop catches up to us, we’re toast. They now have surveillance tape of a battered woman in just a T-shirt screaming for help, while two men wrestle with her to get her back into a car, which they now have the license plate for.”

He turns his attention back to me.

“Congratulations, Nine. Shit just got real,” he yells.

I look confused. These two a-holes might be going to jail, but me – I’ll just go home.

“Maybe for you, but certainly not for me,” I say.

“Oh, you think you’re off the hook? Think again! What are you going to tell the police about your face, about your body? Will you tell them you’re a call girl, and that a dead pimp beat you? Will you tell them that I know where Victor’s body is? Because that makes you an accessory to the crime, pumpkin. Or will you lie through your teeth and say that we did this to you?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t know how to respond, so I stay silent as I search for the right words. I notice Bones is now driving down the road as if he’s operating a racecar. He’s weaving in and out of lanes, and the tension inside the car is thick. I decide to keep my mouth shut as I digest what Trig just said. I scoot as far away from him as possible and focus my attention outside the car. The sun begins to set as one-mile turns into many. Tree. Bush. Sign. Those are my only visuals at the moment. I’d turn my head and stare forward, but then I’d probably get a side-eye mega death stare from Trig.

It’s almost nightfall by the time we get to the cabin. It’s tucked away, all by itself out in middle of nowhere next to a lake. The boys get out first and then I follow suit. Trig walks up the steps to the wide porch. He takes the keys out of his pocket and opens the door. He waves for me to go in. I start to walk through, and then I feel his fingers wrap around my arm.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, and motions to my side. “You might’ve busted a stitch with your gas station performance.”

I stare down at the bloody circle on the white fabric.

“Good. Maybe I’ll bleed to death and finally rid myself from having to deal with you.”

“Lift your shirt up,” he demands.

I cross my arms and stand there.

“Lift the shirt,” he says again. This time with more bass in his voice.

I exhale, turn to my side, and lift the shirt up for him.

“No busted stitches. You’ll live.”

“Damn. I was already preparing a eulogy in my head for you to read at my funeral. Oh, wait. You’d probably just bury me here in the dirt or toss my body in that lake, right?”

He looks at me unamused.

“You? No. That car of yours, yes. Do you have anything in the car you want, before we drive it into the lake?”

My mouth falls open.

“My Benz? You can’t be serious. Is this payback?”

“Do you want something out of the car? Yes or no?” he snaps.

“There’s a bag in the trunk. It has my clothes and shoes inside of it.”

Trig leaves me standing there as he walks back to the car. He returns a few seconds later with my black gym bag. He waves for me to go inside.

“I call dibs on the room upstairs,” Bones yells out as he walks in.

Trig looks at me. “I guess we get the bottom room.”

“We?” I protest.

Trig wags his eyebrows once, and points ahead for me to walk. I groan and march forward.

“This is us,” he says, as we reach a door. “Open it.”

I turn the knob and push against the weight of the door. As soon as my eyes set sight inside, I’m blown away. The room is beautiful. It has that woodsy touch all around, from the wood bed frame, to the chairs and table, to the couch. Every accent in here gives me that wholesome nature feel. I walk over to the sliding glass door. There’s a small patio outside that overlooks the lake, and if it weren’t for circumstances, I would have flipped my shit at how amazing this place is. Instead, I keep cool. I drop my bag on the floor.

“I’m not keeping you hostage,” Trig says. I remain quiet as I keep my back to him and look out over the water. “Can you please just stay here? I don’t want to chase you, but I will if it means that I keep you safe.”

I turn to him. “Why?”

He squints at me. “Why keep you safe? Is that what you’re asking?” He runs his hand over his shaved head as if he’s frustrated.

“No. I mean, why save me at all. You could have shot me in the hotel room and saved yourself all this chaos. You could have shot me in that damn basement. You know what? You could have let The Savior kill me. Why save me?”

“If you were me and you saw what I saw in that hotel room, you’d save yourself, too.”

“Well, if you were me, you’d know that nobody in this world has ever done anything for me, unless they wanted something. What do you want, Trig?”

“I don’t want anything,” he responds.

“Really? Everybody wants something,” I say.

I take off his T-shirt that I’m wearing and throw it across the room. I point to my body.

“Is this what you want? Do you want to use and abuse me just like the rest of them? Oh, I know. You probably think you own me now. You walk around with a gun giving me orders. Hell, you might as well be a pimp.” I saunter up to him and unbutton his jeans. “You’re exactly like every man I’ve ever met, and don’t say you’re not.” I unzip his pants.

He looks away. He’s avoiding eye contact with me. He suddenly exhales, grabs my wrists, and looks straight into my eyes.

“Put some damn clothes on. I told you I don’t want anything.”

He releases my wrists and walks past me. I watch him walk to the patio screen door. He opens it, steps outside, and then slams it closed hard. The glass rattles, which makes me jump. I stand there feeling like an idiot, even though I shouldn’t. Am I wrong to assume that he wants something from me? Is it bad to think that every person in the world will hurt me at some point? That mentality is the one thing that’s kept me alive. Fuck it and fuck him!

I quickly push the incident out of my head and pick up my black gym bag from the floor. I know there is nothing in that bag I can wear to bed, so I grab Trigs T-shirt off the floor as well, and then I head to the bathroom. I close and lock the door once inside. I put my stuff on the counter top and look up. This is the first time I’ve looked into a mirror since the hotel beat down. My stomach sinks when I see the bruises that mark my face and neck. My left eye is slightly swollen and my lip is busted. I run my fingers gently over my face and I can’t help but tear up. I’m reminded of what my dad used to do to me. I frantically take off my bloodstained bra and panties and drop them on the floor. I can’t even bother to look at the rest of my body. It’s too sad.

I can clean this off. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll wash it away, just like when I was a kid. I pull out a shaver and a few small bottles of shampoo and conditioner from my bag and jump in the shower. I begin to scrub off the dirt and blood from my skin and hair. With the hot water steaming up the room, an odor fills the shower. My whole body smells like medicine. I’ve been sweating out the Ketamine and I reek. I wash my hair and body and shave everywhere before I get out of the shower. I throw on Trig’s T-shirt because the clothes in my bag are too tight to sleep in. I glance in the mirror one last time.Jesus. I can only imagine what the people at the gas station thought.

I expect to see Trig inside the room when I come out, but he’s not. He’s still outside, sitting in a chair on the patio. I decide to make a run for it while he’s distracted. I jolt over to the bedroom door and open it. Bones is standing directly outside the doorframe, shaking his finger at me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says.

I jump for a second. My hand falls across my heart.

“I was just checking to see if you ever found that cactus.”

Bones smiles and points me back to the bedroom. He takes the doorknob and pulls it closed. Unbelievable. Trig has a goddamn watchdog out there. I turn and walk toward the sliding glass door. Trigs still in the same spot. He’s sitting in a chair at the edge of the patio. I slowly slide open the door. He glances over his shoulder at me, and then back to the water.

“Can I come out and sit with you?” I ask, as I hover around the screen door.

He stays silent.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Take it how you want,” he says.

I can’t imagine that what I said would have offended him. He’s a big bad killer. He can take it. He looks over and squints his eyes at me, just like he did in the elevator that night. I walk over and sit in the chair next to his.

“Look. I’ve had a shitty few days to say the least. I’m mentally fucked up. I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore. I keep replaying what happened in the hotel in my head, and I can’t understand for the life of me, why you’d save a girl like me. None of it makes sense, especially in the line of work that you do.”

“It doesn’t have to, Nine.”

“It does to me.”

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” Trig says.

“In my profession you have to be,” I respond.

I look up into the night sky that’s filled with bright stars. It’s pretty. The water, the moon, the cabin. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I take a deep breath. It’s peaceful.

“This cabin. Is it yours?” I ask, and turn to him.

He gives me the look that says don’t ask questions, but I challenge him back with my eyes.

“What? I can’t ask about property either?”

He looks back to the water.

“It used to be my mother’s. She gave it to my brother right before she passed away from cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head.

“It was years ago.”

Suddenly I have this urge to know more about the man behind the gun.

“Were you and your mother close?” I ask. Trig nods. “How about you and your brother?” Trig nods again.

“My mom used to bring us out here all the time when we were kids. We’d run and jump off that dock into the lake like idiots and tear up the place.”

“What about your dad?”

“I don’t know. I never met him. He left my mom after I was born.”

“I’m sorry for that, too,” I mumble.

“Don’t apologize. He’s a tool for leaving. It was his loss.”

I awkwardly look away when I think about my own parents. They were too damn high and too selfish to take care of me. I would have been so lucky to at least have a good mom. I find myself a little jealous of Trig for that very reason. He had what seems like a happy childhood, and yet the look on his face tells a darker story.

“What happened to your brother?” I ask, remembering that Bones said that he had died. The Savior also mentioned him a few times when speaking to Trig.

“You sure ask a lot of questions.” He side-eyes me.

“I could say the same about you. Are you going to answer me?”

“If it shuts you up.”

I wave my hands about.

Trig licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

“Victor happened,” he says, as he pulls a pack of cigs from his back pocket. He takes a cigarette out and lights it up. I can see his hand is unsteady.

“Victor killed your brother?”

Trig sits up straighter.

“Those drugs we were looking for, they belonged to The Savior. My brother used to work for him. He was doing a big delivery one day and Victor ambushed him. He shot up the car my brother was in, and then he stole all of the drugs. The Savior lost a lot of money and I lost my only brother.”

“Oh my god. That’s terrible.” I pause to think about it. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say. He’s dead now. An eye for an eye, right?

I look down at my legs. I’m not sure if I agree with the whole eye for an eye logic, but then again, I didn’t have a brother who was murdered.

“Why work for somebody like The Savior? He wasn’t a good person.”

“And you think I am?” Trig chuckles.

“I don’t know. I guess you could be if you wanted to,” I reply.

“I told you Ihadto work for him.”

“If you’re going to be a killer, why not work for yourself,” I question.

He snaps his neck to look at me.

“Do you think I really liked murdering people? I didn’t used to wake up in the morning and say, you know what would be fun? I’d like to slice someone’s throat today, or put a bullet in their head, or better yet, suffocate them with a pillow.”

“I’m just trying to get you. That’s all.”

Trig takes a few puffs from his cigarette as he looks up at the sky.

“When you say you had to, what do you mean?” I push.

“You don’t stop, do you?” he says, as he exhales a cloud of smoke.

“Give me a break; you’ve had me locked up in a basement for three days. And being here isn’t much different. I see you’ve put Bones on security duty outside the bedroom door.”

“That’s because you’ll run,” he says, as he puts out his cigarette.

“Keeping me against my will. That sounds like a hostage situation to me.”

“I’d like to think of it more as protective custody.”

I stare out over the water. I can feel him looking at me, but I don’t turn my head.

“So, are you going to answer my question or do you plan to keep on evading it?”

I finally look at him. This time he looks away. I feel like this is the beginning of a game of cat and mouse, but in this scenario we’re both trying to be the damn cat.

“The question was what? Why I had to do the things I did for The Savior?” He places his hands on his knees.

I nod.

“I have a sister out in Virginia. She’s happily married, with two little kids. She has the whole white picket fence life.” He pauses. “After my brother died, The Savior came looking for me. He said I was obligated to fulfill my brother’s debt and come work for him as his personal executioner. I resisted, but he had my sister’s address. He threatened to kill her and her babies. There wasn’t much to think about. I didn’t sign up for this willingly. I was forced into it, but I did it to protect her. I spent every day looking for Victor just so I could make it all end. So when I say I had to do it, that’s what I mean.”

I catch myself staring at him like he’s some kind of angel. Trig is not what I expected at all. He’s totally a dark hero. Here he was working off his brother’s debt, while protecting his sister and yet he still made time to come to my aid.

“So, how long have you been doing this whole hitman thing?”

“Eight weeks, more or less.”

I look surprised. “And how many people have you—”

“What? Have I killed?” He licks his lips. “Fifty-six.”

Oh my god. My stomach is sick.Fifty-six. He’s killed fifty-six people in eight weeks. I don’t know why, but hearing an actual number makes me feel uncomfortable. Today alone, he took out three men.

“I told you not to ask questions you can’t handle.”

I slide away from him and take a deep breath.

“I want to know how it goes. The Savior would what, just call you up and say kill this guy, and you’d do it? No questions asked?”

“I didn’t get to ask questions. I didn’t have that luxury when my sister’s life was at stake.”

“What if the people you killed were good people?”

“They weren’t.”

“You don’t know that,” I argue.

“Look,” Trig says, and reaches for my hand. I pull away on instinct.

He stares. He’s definitely reading me. I look away. As much as this topic bothers me, I still have to know more.

“Is it hard? Is it difficult to take someone’s life away?”

“Not anymore,” Trig answers. “I don’t think about it. I just do it.”

He sounds like me when I describe escorting. It’s such a numb sensation. As much as I want to reach out and touch him, I don’t. He scares me. My dark hero’s hands are those of a murderer.

“We should go inside,” he says.

I nod and stand up. We both trail into the house. He waves to the bed as we step inside the room.

“All yours.”

I sit down on the mattress as he plops down on a nearby sofa and picks up a magazine.

“Do you ever sleep?” I question.

“Rarely.”

“Care for nightcap?” I ask, hoping he’ll partake and pass out so I can make a run for it.

“Go to sleep, Nine.”

I climb over the bed and into the covers as Trig dims the lamp next to him. I lay on my right side, looking out the window to the lake. It takes me hours, but eventually I fall asleep. I begin to dream of everything that’s happened to me lately, and of painful things I’ve packed away in my memory. I’m in the hotel with Victor and I can’t move. He’s choking and beating me. I see the knife and then it enters my side. I cry out in pain and all of a sudden, I look up to see my Uncle Fred, not Victor. I’m no longer in a hotel. The dream has changed and now I’m in a dark bedroom. I’m just a little girl and my uncle’s touching me in places he shouldn’t. He grabs me by my throat and laughs.

I wake up from my nightmare drenched in sweat. I’m choking and crying. In confusion, I jump out of bed and try to run for the door, but I have no idea where I’m at. I’m frantic and disoriented, and this room is pitch black. Suddenly I feel hands grab me from behind. I’m kicking and screaming when my body is twirled around.

“Nine, It’s me. Look at me,” Trig yells. “It’s just me,” he repeats.

I collapse in his arms. I’m sobbing, as we both fall to the floor. He scoots me up into his lap and cradles me. We stay like that for a few minutes until I calm down. He suddenly moves and picks me up, carrying me back to the bed. He gently places me down and covers me up. He’s about to walk away, when I grab his hand.

“Lay with me.”

He looks at me with uncertainty.

“Please,” I beg.

He climbs over the bed and lays down next to me. I need to touch him again. There is something soothing about it. I don’t even care what he is or what he does at the moment. He makes my demons disappear and I need that right now. I turn on my back and inch my hand closer and closer to his. Our fingers are now slightly touching. I move my hand entirely inside of his. He wraps his hand around mine, and that’s where I find my peace. I close my eyes and fall back asleep.