(Blood and Bone, #2) Sin and Swoon(22)

“But Angie knew you. You said she knew you. Is that why I can’t seem to get hold of her? Is she one of you?”

He swallows. “She is. She had to go back home for something.”

“So she is a liar like you?”

He chuckles a little under his breath. “We lie for a living.”

“How do I know you’re not lying now?”

His dark-blue eyes meet mine, and I know. “I’m not. I love you, and that’s a problem for me. I need to get past you. I need to let you go.” He pauses and gives in, ending the battle I have seen with his will. “And I can’t.” He looks so vulnerable, like the struggle to not be with me is real.

So I jump him.

It isn’t the most rational choice, and it makes almost no sense to me and clearly none to him, but I do it anyway. He lifts me into his big arms, cradling me and taking away all the pain. I believe his lies and his bullshit. I believe because I don’t want him to be crazy, which makes far more sense. All of it makes more sense this way. How I ended up at his house when I was sick. How I never see him in public and am not allowed to tell anyone who he is. How he doesn’t actually do the job he lies about doing.

Yes, this makes sense. He kisses, sucking my lips and grinding my body into his. I let him carry me back to the Jeep. We don’t make love there. He places me in the seat and does up my belt. He closes the door and walks around to the other side, getting in and starting the Jeep. I watch him drive as long as I can before I pass out into the blackest oblivion I have ever been in.





8. The dugout




I remember very little, but I know I fell asleep in the black oblivion, and when I wake I’m still in it. Only I don’t feel like I’m in the Jeep.

I’m somewhere else.

The air is thick and cold—heady, if that’s a possible trait for air. I feel as though I exhale and then inhale the very same air. My lips hurt when I open my mouth. I honestly don’t know what to think.

My eyes fuzz in and out, unable to catch one thing to focus on here in the dark. I shiver and lie back on whatever surface I am on. My fingers come back to me, finding their senses in the black, and discovering a blanket. I brush my fingertips across it, feeling the soft fuzzy cloth and wishing I were home with my cat.

The ache in my body and the apparent swelling on my face have me frightened.

I roll over, griping and groaning as pain shoots through me.

We must have had an accident.

I must have fallen asleep and we crashed.

But where am I?

Something moves in the dark, but I sense it’s behind something or in another room. I feel like I am alone in here, and the space is small.

Is it a hospital?

My insides clench, sending me on my side and then off the bed I didn’t even realize I was on. I land with a painful thud on a strange-feeling floor. My fingers grasp the surface, tickling almost until I recognize it as straw. I’m in a room with hay.

Not a hospital. Unless it’s an animal hospital. Did he carry me here, and this was all he found on the way? Where is he, Rory Guthrie? His name isn’t Derek.

I lift one hand, breathing raggedly, and touch the bed. It too feels like straw beneath the blankets. I force myself up, pushing with my hands and legs until I am finally standing on wobbly feet and rubber legs. It’s like having been on a boat all day and then staggering up the dock.

“Hello!” I croak into the dark. I’m not afraid of what’s here with me. I am afraid of being here alone.

“Shhhhhhhhhh. It’s all right. Don’t panic.” The woman’s voice is one I don’t know, but I don’t care. I’m not alone. I stumble to the wall, running my hand along the cool surface. It’s wood, I think, but damp wood.

“Are you a nurse? Or a tech? Is this an animal hospital? Can you help me?” I call out to the woman. “I think I’m hurt, pretty badly. I think we might have been in a car accident. My boyfriend, Rory, is he okay? Is he here?”

She giggles, nervously. It’s a strange sound to hear in the dark when you’re scared. She sounds crazy. “He’s my boyfriend too, and because of him we’re all hurt. But survival is staying silent. When Rory comes, just lie there and don’t fight him. The ones who fight don’t last.”

Tears stream from my cheeks instantly. “What?” The word is more of a ghastly whisper and less of a question. “Where are we? Can you hear me? Are you talking to me? Can you just open the door? My boyfriend is named Der— Rory, has he been here?”

“Oh, he’s been. He’s been and gone. He’s the one who locked you up, you idiot. He’s gone most of the time. When he comes back we do what he wants, and it gets better. We all start in the dugout, but now I have a full room. And he’s not so bad. Just don’t make him mad.”