Thicker than Blood Page 30

  “A week of free pussy!” one scantily clad woman called out. “If Bryce and Mike win!”

  I tried to drone them out, their greed, their lack of morals, their sick and twisted need to derive pleasure from the pain of others. I stared at Alex, praying that he would come out of this on top, praying that he wouldn’t be harmed. Yet, I couldn’t help but envision the very worst possible scenario—his death—and without him, the brand on my wrist and Evelyn’s meant nothing.

  Without Alex, what would happen to us? The possibilities of such a fate were enough to make me shiver despite the heat from the bonfires, chilling me straight through to my bones.

  “DING, DING!”

  My breath caught in my throat, my body went rigid with fear. Mike rushed forward while Bryce seemed to be taking his time, as if he was waiting for Mike to attack and while Alex was busying fending off Mike, he would strike. Mike never reached Alex, though, as Alex deftly jumped to the side and out of his grasp, then went barreling into Bryce.

  Gripping Bryce’s neck, Alex sent his fist straight into the older man’s face, and just as he was readying to punch him again, Mike jumped onto Alex’s back, his arm encircling Alex’s neck, and then…

  I never did see what happened next. One minute I was watching the fight with bated breath, my heart pounding in my chest, and the next a hand was slapped over my mouth, an arm hooked around my waist, and I was dragged off through the crowd.

  I kicked and I screamed, thrashing wildly in an attempt to free myself, but this wasn’t Grannie holding me, this was a man, a strong man whose strength was much greater than mine.

  This went on for several long, excruciating minutes, me being dragged farther from the fight, and the crowd ignoring me or just plain not noticing as I was hauled off. Once we were away from the gathered masses, the bonfire light waning, I was released and shoved backward.

  My back hit a jagged brick wall, the broken cement digging painfully through the thin material of my dress and into my skin. I blinked through the darkness, trying to make out the face of my kidnapper with only the aid of the moonlight.

  “You,” I whispered breathlessly, recognizing him as the man who’d approached Alex and me outside of Grannie’s tent.

  He smiled at me, several dimples appearing on his handsome face. “Me,” he said, sounding almost proud.

  “What are you doing?” I continued whispering, my gaze flitting from left to right, hoping to find someone nearby. But there was no one around this late at night; the market place was empty, everyone either at the fight or the Drunk Tank.

  “Your man is gonna die out there,” he said, smirking. “Jeffers doesn’t allow his men to be bested by any outsider. Figured I’d better stake my claim on you before you’re sent to The Cave or put up for auction.”

  “A-auction?” I asked, my voice shaking as my body shuddered.

  “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he said, and I watched, horrified, as his hands dropped to his pants, already working his belt buckle loose. “Be easy enough to cover up that brand and slap a new one on. And don’t you worry, I won’t share you.”

  His eyes lifted, meeting mine. In the reflection of the moonlight within them, I could see the sincerity of his madness-fueled promise. He wouldn’t share me.

  “I’m fucking lonely,” he said as he stepped up against me and flattened his body against mine. “I’m sick of whores, sick of having to pay for it, sick of having to share women with every other asshole in this place.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I turned my head away, evading his mouth.

  With a sigh, his lips pressed against my cheek and then lower, to my neck. “I had a girlfriend before,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin along my collarbone. “She was beautiful…I was gonna marry her.”

  His tongue darted out, licking its way across my neck, pausing every so often to stop and suckle my skin as he ignored my soft whimpers. “Looked a lot like you,” he whispered.

  Behind me, my nails were digging into the brick as I desperately tried to figure a way out of this.

  “You should wait,” I stammered. “Wait until you’re sure he’s dead.” It killed me to say it, to even think of Alex dying, but I had to stall him, had to say something to try to save myself from being raped, or worse, from being claimed.

  One hand found my breast, his other my backside. Ignoring me, he continued his assault on my neck while his groping became more and more fevered.

  “Please,” I pleaded. “Please, you need to wait, please…please…”

  His hands pulled up the hem of my dress and I reacted, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him away. As he took a surprised step backward, I reached for my knife. About to pull it free from its holster, I was suddenly faced with the barrel of a gun.

  I froze, letting my hand fall back to my side. Blinking through my gathering tears, I tried to focus blurrily on the man in front of me. “I don’t even know your name,” I whispered, frantically grasping at straws. “You have to at least tell me your name.”

  Still holding the gun to my face, he reached forward to pull my knife free and toss it aside. As it clanked against the cement several times, signaling that it was lost to me, my eyes closed, tears of defeat leaking free.

  “So pretty,” he murmured, using his free hand to brush away the moisture from my cheeks. “Such a good, sweet woman. Don’t find that anymore. You’re a dying breed, sweetheart.”

  The gun disappeared as he took his hand away, slipping the weapon into the back of his pants. Again, he pressed his body against mine, and again he went for the hem of my dress.

  His movements were quicker now, harsher, as he fumbled to drag my leggings down. When he slid his hand between my thighs, I let out a small cry that he quickly squelched with his mouth.

  “No!” I screamed, turning out of his kiss. “No! Please, someone, help me! Help! Help! HELP ME!”

  “They can’t hear you, sweetheart,” he growled, gripping the back of my thighs. With a grunt, he lifted me up off the ground, and then I could feel him, jutting between my thighs, hard and intrusive.

  My arms flailed, my hands pushing helplessly at his face, at his shoulders, gripping his hair and pulling as hard as I could, but he wouldn’t be deterred. Even when I managed to sink my nails into his cheek and tear them across his skin, he only grunted in pain and continued to push inside me.

  The more he pushed, the more I flailed and the louder I screamed. Grabbing hold of anything I could—his arms, his shoulders, his shirt—I pulled and pushed, and screamed, and…

  Suddenly I found the handle of his gun jutting from the back of his pants. Gripping it, I pulled it free and lifted it to his head. My hand shaking fiercely, my grip on the gun no better than jelly, I pressed it against his temple.

  “Let me go or I’ll kill you,” I whispered through ragged breaths.

  He went instantly still, his body frozen against mine, the part of him he’d managed to inch inside me pulsing angrily in time to his rapid heartbeat.

  All at once he dropped me, and I would have gone sprawling face-first to the ground if it weren’t for my leggings still wrapped around my ankles, tripping me up, and causing me to fall back against the wall.

  Keeping the trembling gun trained on him, I smiled bitterly as tears poured down my cheeks. “Do you know what I did to the last man who raped me?”

  He opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, maybe to beg for his life, maybe to say something crude and uncaring. But I would never find out. Utterly unconcerned with what he had to say, I pulled the trigger, blowing a hole through his shoulder. He staggered backward, his eyes wide, his hand reaching for the bleeding wound before falling to his knees.

  Still shaking, I aimed again, this time hoping for his heart.

  “Lei!”

  Alex’s voice tore my gaze away from my target. Shirtless, covered in blood spatter from head to toe, Alex stood only a few feet away from me, his chest heaving with anger. He was almost unrecognizable to me, his hair an unruly mess, b
lood dripping from his short beard, dripping down his chest and arms, and from his clenched fists. His body was trembling, his eyes were wild, crazed even, darting recklessly between me and the man on the ground, looking as if he wanted to rip him to shreds with his bare hands. Looking as if he could rip him to shreds with only his bare hands.

  Beside him was Jeffers, whose large arm was held out in front of Alex, refusing to let him any farther than where he stood. Next to Jeffers stood Liv, and behind the three of them was a growing mob of people, jumping and shoving as they tried to see past one another.

  “Help…me…” the man called out hoarsely, looking up to Jeffers with pleading eyes.

  It was Liv who answered. Taking a deliberate step forward, she waved her hand dismissively at my attacker. Then, not bothering to spare him a second glance, she smirked at me. “Finish it.” She snarled at me, her tone taunting, her eyebrows arched with intrigue. “Those are our rules.”

  Shivering now, my teeth chattering, I glanced back toward Alex. Apart from the subtle trembling still racking his body, he was as still as a statue, his wide, wild eyes on me now.

  “Finish it!” Liv screamed, startling me. Her tiny features twisted with fury as she thrust her index finger in my direction. “Kill him, you weak little cunt!”

  Still shaking, I refocused on the man. His hand was raised now, his mumbled words indistinguishable between his sobs and the pounding of my own heart.

  I didn’t want to kill him. I didn’t want his blood on my hands, but what I wanted and what I felt were two starkly different things. And all I could feel were his hands on me, Lawrence’s hands on me, their mouths, their hands, their penises, taking and taking and taking, uncaring that I wasn’t willing, that it wasn’t something I was giving to them, but it never mattered, they took it anyway.

  With an ear-splitting scream, I pulled the trigger, the bullet missing its mark again and sinking into the man’s stomach instead. He screamed loudly, his scream fading quickly into a groan, and he slumped even farther to the ground. I pulled the trigger again, hitting him in the leg, and then again, hitting him in the stomach. I continued pulling the trigger, unable to stop, consumed by emotions, even long after the clip was empty and the man had gone deathly still.

  I felt a hand on me, on my arm, and I flinched, jerking away and turning the gun on whoever had touched me. It was Alex, I realized belatedly, yet I still couldn’t seem to lower my weapon, couldn’t seem to stop shaking, couldn’t seem to feel anything but the deep-rooted cold that had taken hold of me.

  “Lei,” he whispered, wrapping his hand around the barrel of the gun. “Lei, look at me.”

  I did, blinking rapidly, and raised my eyes to his. Gone was the rage I’d seen in them only moments ago, replaced by the genuine gentleness I was familiar with.

  “It’s me,” he said softly. “It’s Alex.”

  I blinked again, trying to see through my tear-filled eyes.

  “You’re alive…” A fresh wave of tears filled my eyes. “You won the fight.”

  “I won the fight,” he said, pulling the gun free from my hand.

  “And your woman just killed one of my men.” Jeffers stepped forward, his arms folded across his chest and a calculating smile on his face. “Which means you owe me.”

  “I don’t owe you shit,” Alex spat. “I fought your men, I won your fight.”

  “Let me rephrase,” Liv interjected, glancing up at Jeffers. “You don’t just owe us, we fucking own you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Evelyn

  It was dark when I awoke. My eyes opened sluggishly, trying to make sense of the dark shadows all around me. Gradually, with the aid of the moonlight streaming in through the windows, my eyesight adjusted, and with it came the realization of where I was. I was in our room, and I was alone.

  My thoughts muddled, my head pounding, I tried to push myself upright in bed, but my body protested as aches and pains flared to life from what seemed like every inch of me. I blinked slowly, trying to remember, trying to recall.

  Bringing a hand to my aching chest, my heart suddenly hammering like a runaway train, I gasped. My breath was staggered as I struggled to breathe, to catch a breath without nearly choking on it.

  They’d tried to kill me.

  Liv and Jeffers and Misty. They’d all wanted me dead.

  My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. Why were there no good people left in this world? What the hell was wrong with everyone?

  I squeezed my eyes closed, forcing back my threatening tears while attempting to steady my breathing. It didn’t matter why. None of this mattered. This place, these people, the insane way they lived, none of it mattered because we were leaving. And once we were free of this hell, we would chalk it up to another lesson learned on the road to somewhere safer.

  The lesson being we could trust no one. No one but each other.

  Swinging my legs over the side of the mattress, my body protesting my every movement, I gently touched my face. Jagged stitches stretched across my left cheek, the skin around them tender and painful to the touch.

  Still, it could have been worse. I could have been Misty. I could have been dead.

  My thoughts stuttered to a stop. I’d killed her and I didn’t feel bad or guilty; I’d simply done what I had to do to stay alive. But shame was another story, and I felt it in spades. The shame of the realization that I was becoming like the people of Purgatory, by selling my body and then killing a fellow survivor without remorse. How easy a transformation it had been, how easy it was to become even more of a monster than I’d already become.

  Standing now, I felt woozy, slightly drugged, and parched with thirst. I scanned the room searching for anything edible, my gaze landing on the countertop and all the treasures it held.

  My eyes wide, I lurched forward, reaching for the edge to steady myself. There was a veritable bounty of supplies here, and I found myself again searching the room to ensure this was actually our room, that I hadn’t been brought elsewhere.

  Once positive that this was in fact our room, I turned back to the countertop, perusing the items. There were several handguns, ammunition, blades of all shapes and sizes, short stacks of clothing, jars filled with a yellowish liquid, as well as food, both canned and fresh.

  My stomach rumbled and my nostrils flared as the scent of grilled rat wafted up to greet me.

  “Rat,” I said dryly, staring at the meat I had come to despise so much. “Of course I would get paid in rats.”

  Regardless of my feelings on the vermin, I grabbed one of the skewers. The meat had grown somewhat cold, yet I tore into it with gusto, swallowing without even chewing. Finished with the rat, I tossed the bones aside and reached for one of the bottles. Unscrewing the cap, I sniffed the contents, and came away coughing. It was a liquor of some sort, though what it was exactly, I had no earthly idea.

  Tentatively, I took a sip, wincing as it slid a burning path down my throat. Once I was sure it wouldn’t kill me, I took another swallow and then another, and then I was gulping it down with vigor, relishing the burn and the warming sensation flaring to life in my gut.

  I was nearly halfway finished with the bottle when I heard noise from the hallway, and a rattling on the door. Reaching for one of the blades on the counter, I gripped it tightly in my fist and waited. When I saw it was Alex who entered, followed by Leisel, I tossed the blade back on the countertop with a relieved sigh.

  I rushed toward Leisel, throwing my arms around her and pulling her against me despite the pain it caused me. Only she didn’t return the gesture; in fact, she went stiff against me. I pulled back, searching her face. Her mouth was downturned and trembling as she attempted a smile.

  “What happened?” I asked, glancing to Alex. Leaning against the closed door, he was looking out across the room, his gaze unfocused.

  “Your fight?” I asked, noting the cuts covering Alex’s face and fists, and the blood staining nearly every inch of him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there
,” I stammered, feeling guilty, wondering if that was why Leisel wouldn’t hug me back. Did she hate me for this? Was this another item to add to my list?

  Without bothering to look at me, Alex merely nodded. Confused, I looked back at Leisel, but she quickly glanced away, her face pale.

  “Lei, what’s wrong? What happened?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “Nothing happened.”

  Something was very wrong; I could feel it in my gut. There were two things that Leisel had never been very good at—the first was hiding her true feelings, and the second was lying.

  “What happened?” I repeated, my words laced with worry.

  Through her lashes, Leisel glanced up at me. “Nothing,” she said. “You just focus on getting better.”

  I scowled at her, flinching as the movement pulled painfully on my stitches. “Nothing?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Alex fought and—”

  “What did they do?” I interrupted, turning to Alex. “She’s a shitty liar, Alex, so one of you better tell me the fucking truth before I go find out—”

  Placing a hand on my trembling arm, her features twisted with anxiety, Leisel interrupted me. “A man, he grabbed me—”

  “FUCK!” I screamed, whirling away from her. My hands clenched into angry fists, I dropped them heavily on the countertop, making my winnings jump and rattle together. “Fuck them all!” I continued screaming. “Sick, twisted bastards!”

  Spinning back around, I thrust a finger into Leisel’s face. “Who was it?” I demanded. “You tell me who it was so I can kill him!” I grabbed a knife from the counter, brandishing it in the air.

  “He’s already dead,” Alex said. It was the first time he’d spoken since entering, and his voice was strained, more so than I’d ever heard it before. All at once, some of the anger fueling my rage began to ebb. He was dead, whoever he was. That much was good.

  “You killed him,” I said, still watching Alex. “Are you in trouble? Does anyone know?”

  “I killed him,” Leisel said softly. “I shot him. Everyone was there, they all saw.”