Roger sobered. “I’m doing it because I have to.”
“What does that mean?”
Roger didn’t answer. I noticed the hotel in the distance, but grew confused when we whipped past it.
“We’re not going to the hotel?” I asked.
“For now, no. Broderick knows we’re staying there. There’s another hotel uptown that’s a bit more low key.”
“But all my things—”
“Don’t worry about it. We can get someone to get everything you need.”
I was dubious, but I nodded. Roger knew what he was doing better than I did.
Chapter 18
The new hotel was in a much older part of town, so it was not nearly as extravagant. We parked in a dark garage that was mostly empty, and there was no valet. Roger gave me his credit card and ID and asked me to check in. No one asked questions at the front desk. Afterward I returned to Roger, and together we made an attempt to look as inconspicuous as possible as we headed up the staircase to the second floor, into a room that was about as generic as you could ask for in Goddess. I helped Roger sit on the edge of the bathtub and threw back the cheap vinyl shower curtain.
“Go get my bag. I dumped it by the door.”
I did so, setting it at his feet and unzipping it to find medical supplies inside. He must have kept it in his car in case of a situation like this. I helped Roger out of his jacket and shirt, though we had to slice off his undershirt since he couldn’t lift his arm.
“Cut it off and then tear it into strips,” Roger instructed, wincing as I jostled him slightly. “We can use it as a press. And don’t stab me, please.”
I grew nervous. My hands shook because I needed a hit, and there were a few times I nearly nicked him with the blade. Finally I got the undershirt off, and Roger told me to grab a syringe from the first aid bag.
“A-a syringe?” I gulped. God, could I do this? Seeing the syringe would only make me shake more. A cold sweat started at my brow. I needed a hit so badly.
Wake up, Melissa. Roger’s gonna bleed to death if you don’t act now.
I dove my hand into the bag and pulled out a vinyl case that carried several different sized syringes. My tongue swelled in my mouth as I looked at them. They were beautiful. My heart beat at my ribs, screaming, Now, get some now. My head was yelling back, Take care of Roger, you moron.
I ripped the smallest syringe out of the packet and showed it to Roger.
“There’s gonna be a brownish-purple bottle in there. You see it?”
“Yes.”
“Stick the needle in and fill it up. Then give it to me.”
I did as he asked, shoving the needle through the skin at the top of the bottle and pulling back the plunger until it had filled. I squeezed out the air bubbles like a pro and turned back to Roger. He grabbed a strip of his dirty undershirt and draped it over his arm.
“Tie me off.”
If there was anything I knew, it was how to tie a tourniquet. I gave Roger the needle and fashioned a tight bow around Roger’s bicep. With nurse-like professionalism, I patted his vein until it rose, then easily skewered it with the needle. My gaze skittered to the inside of my own arm and I had to close my eyes to beat back the desperation.
“Melissa.”
His voice drew me out of my drug-induced lust. I met his stare.
“Throw out the syringe.” When I moved to do so, he grasped my wrist. “And keep it thrown out.”
I bit my lip, slightly ashamed. “Of course.”
I wrapped the syringe in a wad of toilet paper and then tossed the thing in the trash before returning to Roger. I was shaking more now, and I could hardly concentrate. Roger put a hand on my arm to steady me.
“You gonna be all right?”
“You’re asking me that?” I tried to smile away my anxiety.
“You’ve gone really pale.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you okay with blood?”
“Enough.” I gulped.
“Okay. There’s gonna be a pair of forceps in that thing. Get them and bring them over here.”
“You want me to pull out the bullet? Myself?”
“I can’t do it. I’m starting to feel a bit woozy.”
Indeed, he was swaying slightly. Geez, talk about fast-acting drugs. I wasn’t sure what I’d injected him with, but it had to be a pretty powerful painkiller. Watching the agony leave his eyes made me want to grab that brownish-purple bottle and inject the whole thing into myself. I bet it felt amazing.
I shook my head. Keep yourself together, Melissa. Concentrate on something else. My eyes didn’t want to settle on the blood, and the expression in Roger’s eyes only made me hungry. Something else… My eyes finally settled, though I quickly looked away with a hint of shame.
Okay, your bodyguard is half-naked. Try to ignore it. Don’t stare too much.
Still. I hadn’t known he was that well toned under those suits. But of course he was. He was Ezekiel’s employee, after all. Ezekiel didn’t hire guys who didn’t know what a bench press looked like.
“Melissa, any day now.”
“Oh, right.” I grabbed a pair of nasty looking forceps and bent my knees slightly so I could get a better view of the wound. It was gross. Nausea made my stomach itch.
“Can you do it?”
“Yeah.” I touched the forceps to the wound. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“You know what to do once it’s out, right?”
“Put pressure on it?”
“Yeah. As much as you can muster.”
I nodded, took a deep breath, and forced the forceps into the bullet entry. There was a disgusting squelch sound and a little squirt of blood landed on my arm. I wanted to pull out the instrument and back away, but I couldn’t. I had to do this. Roger had gotten this wound because of me, so it was only proper that I help him with it.
“What am I looking for?” I whimpered, digging the forceps in deeper.
“Metal.”
I couldn’t really sense much of anything besides what felt like tender steak, but then the forceps touched something hard. I tried to work as quickly as I could before he bled out all over the floor. The forceps kept slipping, but I eventually got them around a slender object and yanked. As I did, another squirt of blood hit my chest. I snatched up a handful of undershirt rags and pushed as hard as I could against the wound. I could feel a few specks of warm blood on my face.
“Good. Just keep that there.” Roger leaned over with his good arm and grabbed the torn sleeve of his jacket, which he’d ripped into strips and then tied together so that it made a decent sash. He handed it to me. I pushed against his wound while also wrapping it as tightly as I could. When we had finally finished up, the bathroom looked like a war zone, with blood all over both of us, blood soaked rags across the floor, and medical supplies strewn along the tile. I sucked in air as I leaned back and hugged myself. My ears pounded with the rhythm of my rapid heartbeat.
“This is good. Thank you, Melissa.” He tried to stand, but he swayed slightly and laughed as he sat down. “Whoa. Maybe I should sit here for a while.”
“Do you need anything? Something to drink?” I asked.
“I’m fine. I just need time for this stuff to get through my system.” Roger bent over his legs and inhaled heavily.
“At least lie down. Come on. I’ll put you on one of the beds.”
Roger shook his head, but he meekly accepted my hand as he slowly stood. I allowed him to lean on me as we shuffled into the main room, then gently lowered him down onto the bed. After making sure he was comfortable, I returned to the bathroom to clean up the worst of the mess. I knew Roger couldn’t do it in his state, and I sure as hell knew Ezekiel wouldn’t be pleased if he ever showed up here. The maid couldn’t see this, either. It was up to me to pick up.
By the time I had sanitized and packed away the medical supplies and wiped up the blood around the area, I looked like a deranged
surgeon in formal attire. My hair was ratty and wet with sweat, while my makeup was smudged with tears and blood. Despite my efforts to keep my feet in my shoes, there were still a few tiny bits of glass wedged into my heels that required tweezers to remove. Blood had dried along my upper arm and collarbone, where Roger had squirted me. All in all, if Ezekiel saw me now, he’d probably fire me.
I returned to the main room, where Roger was lying on the bed with his arm across his eyes. When he removed it to look at me, I couldn’t help but wince.
“You look pretty bad,” I said, sitting on the bed beside him.
“Could be worse,” he joked. “Could be dead.”
I didn’t find the morbid humor funny. “Do we just wait, then?”
“We wait.”
“Should we let Ezekiel know where we are?”
“He’ll know. Though perhaps you’ll want to send him a text to let him know we arrived.”
I had never sent Ezekiel a text. It seemed childish. When Roger handed me the phone in his pocket, I took the time to tap out a quick message.
We’re safe.
I pushed send before giving the phone back to him.
“I should probably get out of these pants,” Roger said with a sigh. “There’s blood on them.”
“Did you bring extra clothes?”
“No.”
“Then take them off.”
Roger gave me an odd look.
“What? Oh, like I’ve never seen a man in his underwear before.”
“It’s not very professional.”
I rolled my eyes. “Such a gentleman.” I reached up to undo his belt, but he smacked my hands away with a frown.
“Fine. I wouldn’t want you to offend my virgin sensibilities,” I said with a slight smirk. “Have fun trying to get your pants off one-handed. I’ll be in the bathroom taking a shower.”
In the bathroom, my eyes fell to the trashcan, where I could still see the plunger of that syringe peeking up from underneath a wrinkle in the plastic bag. I reached into Roger’s bag of medical supplies and pulled out the bottle of painkiller. After throwing one nervous glance at the closed door, I snatched up one of the clean needles and shoved the end through the cap of it. Any high was better than no high, and after tonight, I needed it more than anything. Once I could feel its effects drifting through my mind like a dense fog, I turned on the shower and shed my clothes. It was the best end possible to a terrible night, and as much as I liked to think this was as bad as it could get, I wasn’t that stupid.
Chapter 19
I woke early in the morning in the bed beside Roger’s, slightly drowsy but otherwise feeling fine. Roger was asleep, still in his underwear and drooling all over the plush pillows. Wrapped around me was one of the provided bathrobes, flimsy lace underwear beneath it. I could hardly have slept in the tattered dress from last night. It was probably the most substantial thing I’d worn to bed since falling under Ezekiel’s employ.
Within forty-five minutes, I’d taken a quick shower and dried my hair, trying to look presentable with the tools I had at my disposal. As I wandered back into the main room, my eyes caught Roger’s gun and wallet, which had spilled out of his torn jacket and lay at the foot of the bed.
I strode over to Roger’s limp body and picked up the wallet. I tried to quell a sudden desire to snoop, but it wouldn’t go away. I flipped open the leather and looked inside.
Most of the contents were the usual stuff—a hundred in cash, a few credit cards, a driver’s license, some fake IDs, and a gift certificate for Angelina’s Books. There were a few photos, as well. The first was of an older couple; both seemed to bear some resemblance to him. I smiled—the thought of Roger having parents humanized him a bit. I flipped to the next picture and let out an involuntary gasp.
Roger in a tux, looking sharper than I’d ever seen him, his arm around a lovely woman draped in white.
Roger has a wife?
He groaned a bit, and I quickly shoved the wallet back into his jacket pocket and did my best to remove the guilty expression from my face.
“What time is it?” he muttered, wincing as he tried to move his bad arm.
“A good time to order room service.”
Roger’s eyes flickered open, and he stared up at me blearily. “You’re already up.”
“It is almost nine o’clock.”
“Shit.” Roger clenched his eyes shut and groaned as he tried to sit. I stepped forward to help him, then sat beside him as he ran his good hand over his hair. “I should change my bandage before I get dressed.”
“I can help you.”
“I can do it.” He flinched as he shifted his shoulders. “Okay, maybe I do need some assistance.”
I helped him to the bathroom and did my best to re-bandage his wound with the tools I had. It looked relatively clean, if not a bit gory, and he seemed pleased with its progress.
“What are we going to do about clothes?” I asked. He was still in his underwear, and hadn’t packed anything extra in his bag of emergency supplies.
“Uh…” Roger groaned. “Shit.”
“We can call Ezekiel. I’m sure he could bring us something.”
Roger didn’t appear comfortable with the idea of asking his employer to do him any favors, but as neither of us had clothing that was not caked with blood, dirt, or ash, it was our only option. Roger stayed in the bathroom to place the call while I wandered back into the main room.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and ran a hand through my hair. My mind darted to that wedding picture I’d seen. It couldn’t have been that long ago; Roger had looked about the same age, but maybe with messier hair. The woman had been in her mid-twenties, with straight black hair and purple eyes, which meant she was Jahralian.
Twenty minutes later, Ezekiel arrived. He was speckled with blood, but his stride was long and confident, his hair only slightly disheveled. I went to greet him, only to be wrapped in one arm and kissed fiercely on the mouth.
I could feel his heart pounding in his chest, could smell the sweat and blood on his skin. There was no doubt he’d just returned from battle, and all he had to show for it was the one spot where the bullet had clipped his arm. The man seemed immortal.
“Get dressed,” he ordered, pulling back. He tossed a duffel bag on the bed with our clothes. “Then we’ll head back to Red Velvet.”
* * *
After all I’d been through last night, it felt wrong to drive around in midday traffic with pink limousines and tired commuters. I assumed no one was after us or else we wouldn’t be returning, and as much as I wanted to ask what transpired last night while I was removing the bullet from Roger’s arm, I knew better.
Once in the Red Velvet presidential suite, Ezekiel waited until Roger left before he unbuttoned his jacket and, in one sleek move, pulled it off and discarded it on a chair. His eyes were alive, filled with passion fueled by adrenaline and testosterone. I was slightly afraid of him—afraid he might hurt me. He had that kind of look on his face; the kind Blade wore before he became violent.
But Ezekiel didn’t hit me. He grabbed me and planted another open-mouthed kiss, his arms an iron cuff around my midsection. I was glad I had cleaned up before he’d arrived. He definitely wouldn’t have tolerated me looking slovenly.
Ezekiel yanked back and pushed me. I landed on the couch in a rather ungraceful manner. He ripped his shirt off, sending buttons flying. I’d never seen him so feral, and another pang of fear boiled in my gut. I barely swallowed a gasp when he reached forward and tore my dress right down the middle.
Holy hell.
All my past definitions of passion were erased right then. Ezekiel was passion at the moment. He was a snorting bull with his horns lowered and front hoof pawing the ground. Once he broke into that gallop, nothing short of a bullet to the head could have stopped him.
Chapter 20
Ezekiel finally used up all the pent-up energy from his escapade the previous night after we had sex a few times. By the third
round, he rolled out of bed, took a shower, and emerged with his usual perfect composure ten minutes later. I’d only managed to slip into some underwear.
“Where are you going?” I asked, pulling the sheets up to my waist.
“Business.”
“Oh.” I shouldn’t have expected him to say anything more specific. He swiveled around to face me, jaw set, hair in place. Sometimes I wondered if he were some sort of magician, changing demeanors in an instant to suit every situation. It impressed me as much as it frightened me.
“Don’t sound so crestfallen.” He ran a comb through his hair again for good measure. “I’ve arranged for entertainment.”
“Oh?”
“Roger is taking you to the zoo.”
I almost snorted, but thank goodness I didn’t. The zoo? Was I ten or something? Still, I wasn’t going to complain. I hadn’t been to the zoo since I was five. I’d almost forgotten what a giraffe looked like in real life. I remembered them as gigantic, but was that because they were so big or because I was so small?
“It seems you’ve taken quite a liking to Roger. Is that true?”
I didn’t want Ezekiel jumping to any jealous conclusions, so I shrugged. “He’s all right.”
“I specifically chose him to guard you because I knew he’d grow attached, and that means a great deal when I need you protected. I can’t have a bodyguard willing to put you in the line of fire.”
It shocked me how little concern Ezekiel showed over my relationship with Roger. Blade glared at every single man who looked at me, including the sixty-year-old hobo who slept on my apartment steps occasionally. It had never made any sense to me, considering Blade also knew how I made the majority of my money. Perhaps for him it was “out of sight, out of mind.” As long as he didn’t have to see it, he could pretend I was his virtuous girlfriend who never harbored a single thought about another man.
“His actions last night confirmed him as a proper choice.” He nodded sharply. “Wouldn’t you agree, Melissa?”
It was an absolute statement, not a question. I shook my head. “I like Roger. Thank you.”
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