“Will you wait outside the door?”
“Sure.” I agreed gruffly before quickly shutting the wood between us. All the oxygen I had left in my lungs exhaled.
What in fresh hell was wrong with me? Irregular heartbeat, wasting perfectly breathable air, going against house rules I helped create… and all for a girl whose name I didn’t even know.
10
Huntsman
* * *
“The package was delivered,” the shrewd voice informed me.
“Satisfied?”
The muffled sound of cardboard in the background gave me pause. It sounded like a gift unwrapping and not confirmation of a crime.
“Interesting proof you send.”
I could almost imagine the person staring down at the blue ribbon tied around the bundle, the black strands of hair lying limp against the box.
“Would you rather I cut out her heart and send that?”
“I guess it would be no more identifying than this black hair.”
“There’s more.”
Paper ruffled, and I knew the moment the smaller item was discovered.
Riiipp. The covering was torn away. A breath was indrawn.
“The color on her nails is exclusive, is it not?” My voice was bored. I didn’t bother to point out there was also blood and DNA on the nail. I wasn’t paid to point out the obvious.
“It’s a brand-new color. Unreleased.”
I knew that.
The voice continued, slick and satisfied. “Ripping off her nail and her hair. Probably didn’t have to do much else to kill her.”
I reminded myself I couldn’t be disgusted because I was worse.
I grunted. “Satisfied?”
“And the body?”
“You’ll never see her again.”
“Payment has been wired.”
I hung up, disabled the phone, then crushed it.
I didn’t bother double-checking if the payment was there. It would be.
The people who hired me were no-conscience scumbags, but even they knew better than to cross a killer.
11
Ivory
* * *
Go on strongly despite the fear. I repeated the phrase to myself like a mantra until the words were tattooed in my brain and I didn’t have to whisper them anymore.
Today was hard. Harder than almost any day before it.
But I survived before, and I could again. All I needed was a good night’s sleep and the sun. Yes, the second the rain stopped and the sun shone down over the city, everything would feel brand new and I would know what to do.
A shower would help too. Wash away the horrible grime the hunter left behind, the stickiness from the jail. I could even wash away the blood and tears.
I was afraid. Alone.
I could still be brave.
My eyes slipped to the door, my mind wandering to the man who promised to stand there and wait. He was nothing but a stranger. A necessity to get me through the night.
Glancing around to put the clothes on something while I showered, I found nothing at all. No vanity. No dresser or even a soft bench. I’d never been in such a small, primitive bathroom before.
The tiles on the floor were tiny and discolored, a few of them cracked. The sink was small, needing a cleaning, and the faucet dripped. The walls were white and actually probably had been painted recently. But not even fresh paint could give new life to a space where everything else was dying.
The clawfoot tub might be charming, but it was grimy. So grimy I thought about showering in my sneakers. Then I considered not showering at all.
Balancing my clothes on the edge of the sink beside the towel, I turned to grab the shower curtain…
There wasn’t one.
These men showered in a clawfoot tub with no curtain? Making a face, I looked at the showerhead sticking out from the wall.
I’ll spare you the details of its unfortunate state.
Wouldn’t water get everywhere with no curtain or door? I gazed around, shifting from foot to foot for a while longer, my eyes oddly drawn to the chipped white mug near the sink. It had five toothbrushes sticking out of it. They were all just tangled up and shoved in the same mug. All of them were different colors… and one of them looked chewed.
Ew.
There was a plant on the back of the toilet. I didn’t know why, but I took pity on it and gave it some water.
And I can tell you on good authority that the toilet paper in here… it was not two-ply.
They probably all had rashes.
A gentle knock came from the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you,” I called back.
I couldn’t see my reflection in the mirror, which had its positive and negative sides.
Positive: I couldn’t see what a mess I was.
Negative: I couldn’t see what a mess I was.
If I couldn’t see, how would I fix it?
I decided just to go for it and stripped off the ruined designer workout attire that I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t see again. And you better believe I was having a meeting with the executives at Dior. This fabric was severely lacking. It didn’t hold up at all to my near-death and jailtime experiences!
I decided not to shower in my shoes. I needed them to stay dry. And since I only had one sock on my foot, I couldn’t shower in those either.
Making a whining sound, I tugged the sock off my injured finger, whimpering again when fresh blood started to well. Why did he have to go and rip off my entire fingernail? Wasn’t that just too vicious?
How long until it grows back? How long until there will be enough nail to attach a false one? Should I have gotten stitches? What if it gets infected? What a waste of nail polish.
All these worries consumed me as I climbed into the tub, trying to touch as little as humanly possible. My limbs were freezing and weak, and I promised myself the warm water of the shower would make all of this suffering seem far away.
Finding the knob for the spray, I turned it on.
Nothing happened.
Frowning, I turned it the other way.
Again, nothing.
Irritated by this thing’s lack of responsibility to do what it was supposed to do, I gave it a spin all the way around, using a little extra force. A stream of water shot out not from the showerhead above, but from the faucet coming out of the wall near the tub.
“Ahhh!” I screamed, scurrying back as water burst from around the spigot like someone hit it with a hammer and cracked the entire pipe. Sprays of water attacked my skin, and it was frigid.
I screamed again, trying to shut it off, but I swear the water started attacking with more force!
Half wet, half dry, and completely naked, I scurried back, my bare foot slipping on the bottom of the porcelain tub, my entire body flying.
“Oomph.” I didn’t know if it was the sound I made when I fell or the sound the person who caught me made, but it was the sound I heard.
A few low curse words rained down upon me like that friggin’ spigot water, but just as fast, the sporadic spray cut off.
The loud sound of water being gulped up by the drain and dripping in the sink settled like a blanket over the previous chaos.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Neo growled, water dripping from his nose and pulling the long strands of hair down into his eyes.
“Me?” I gasped. “That thing exploded, and I didn’t do anything!”
“It didn’t explode.”
“It did so!” I argued. “What kind of shower is—” I screamed again.
Neo fell back with the loud yell, but I went with him.
“What in the hell are you screaming for now?”
I hadn’t hit the floor when I fell over the side of the bathtub. I’d fallen into Neo’s arms.
And I was naked.
Naked. Naked!
Not even my massage therapist saw this much of my skin.
“I’m naked!” I wailed, tucking my arms
over my chest and trying to conceal all of me.
“Should I have let the bathroom flood and you drown?”
“Don’t look at me!”
He closed his eyes. “You don’t have anything I want to see.”
“How rude!”
“Rude that I don’t want to look at you? Or rude that I should be trying to steal a peek and I’m not?”
“Put me down!”
Despite the fact that I was yelling at him, everything was wet, and his eyes were closed, Neo put me down with a gentleness that, for a moment, overshadowed everything else.
“Thank you,” I said soft, still cowering to cover myself.
Eyes still shut, he grabbed the towel like he knew exactly where it was and held it out to me. Snatching it, I wrapped it around my body.
“Covered?” he asked, squinting open his eyes.
“Don’t!” I shied away.
To his credit, he turned his back, reached into the tub, and turned on the shower in one go. This time, the water came from above, and it wasn’t erratic. In fact, the water pressure was terrible.
“It’s temperamental,” he explained.
“I think it’s possessed.”
A laugh burst out of him. My stomach flipped a little at the appearance of his dimples.
“Hurry up. There’s not much hot water.” His voice turned gruff when the laugh disappeared.
I was climbing back into the tub as he was leaving. “Where’s the shampoo and conditioner?”
“Soap’s in the corner,” he called, then snapped the door shut behind him.
Still clutching the towel, standing just out of the sad spray, I turned to see a bar of white soap. There was a hair in it.
It was official. This was hell.
12
Neo
* * *
How could someone so small make so much noise?
I’d known her only a couple hours, and I’d already witnessed this girl screaming (many, many times), crying, whining, yelling, and being polite.
She was giving me whiplash.
Maybe she had some sort of mental imbalance. Maybe Earth was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought her home.
From the other side of the bathroom door, there was some noise. Straightening off the wall where I was waiting, I brushed my palms down the front of my jeans, expecting her to appear.
Rattle. Rattle. Scuffle.
I suppressed a sigh. “It sticks. Pull harder.”
Her annoyed determination echoed behind the door, and I couldn’t help but smile slightly. How did this girl function in her daily life? I’d never met anyone more prone to life-threatening idiocy.
And why did her fatal flaw make me smile this way?
Finally, the door gave way, the frame nearly shuddering as it jerked inward.
“Eek,” she squeaked, falling backward as it swung in. Seconds later, her dark head peered around the edge, eyes settling on mine. Clearing her throat, she slipped around, hands wringing together in front of her.
All the annoyance, the whiplash, and thoughts of her being mentally imbalanced blew away as if I’d never even thought them at all.
I wasn’t a huge man, but my shirt on her petite frame gave a different impression. The neck was so wide it exposed her collarbones and graceful neck. The shoulders hung low on her arms while the hem stretched down to nearly her knees.
It was a dark-red color, which somehow complimented her inky hair, paper-white skin, and rosy mouth.
Long, charged, but utterly silent moments passed between us. My heart was thumping, tongue dry. And my eyes… they wouldn’t turn away.
“Where are the bandages?” she asked, her hands twisting together anew.
“Oh.” I blinked, taking a step forward, and then blanked on the question.
“My finger is bleeding,” she said, reminding me I was supposed to be doing something.
“Here.” I held up the small plastic bag I forgot I’d even been holding. I’d sent Fletch down to the corner market to get the stuff we didn’t have.
Her eyes drifted to the bag. “You went out and bought some?”
“Not me,” I quickly informed. “I stayed here the whole time.” It seemed important I tell her that, though I wasn’t sure why. “Fletch went.”
“How sweet.”
She thought he was sweet? He was the one who got her sent to jail.
Annoyed, I thrust the bag out. “Here,” I intoned as it swung back and forth on my finger.
“Thank you.” She took the sack and went back into the bathroom, leaving the door partially ajar.
Placing the sack in the sink, she began rifling through, pulling out whatever Fletch purchased, and frowning as though she didn’t know what any of it was for.
Where is this girl from? Mars?
I watched her struggle with the seal on one of the small bottles, then released a hefty sigh. “Give it to me,” I said, stepping into the bathroom.
She relented immediately, watching as I used my teeth to rip the seal and peel it away.
Tossing the trash into the bag, then hanging the entire thing on the door handle, I held out my hand. “Let me see.”
Cautiously, she surrendered her tiny hand, all of her long nails perfectly manicured and painted… all of them except the one that was missing.
Glancing at her, I noted the way she grimaced and stared sullenly at her messed-up finger. It was hard to imagine someone literally ripping it right off her hand.
“I fell,” she explained almost like she’d read my thoughts.
“What?”
“I fell when he was, ah, attacking me. The nail broke, and I cried. He used the fact it was already weak and ripped it all the way off.”
It took a second to find my voice. “I’m sure it hurt.”
She said nothing but nodded emphatically. Was she commiserating with herself?
Kinda cute.
“Are you smiling?” She accused.
Removing any kind of look I might have been showing, I cupped her hand, pulling it over the sink. “Hold still.”
“Ow!” she wailed.
“I haven’t even sprayed it on you yet.”
“It’s going to hurt.”
“It says it’s sting-free on the bottle.”
Her round blue eyes relaxed, her gaze completely trusting. “Really?”
Taking advantage of her distraction, I sprayed a generous amount over the raw and bleeding finger.
“Agh!” she yowled and tried to pull her hand away. My grip was stronger, so I held it in place and sprayed again. “Owww!”
I let go.
“You said it was sting-free!”
“I lied.”
Her lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Blow on it.” Her fingers waved at me.
“No.”
A small whimper vibrated her throat, and she turned away from me, cradling the injured hand to blow on it herself.
Her shoulders shook between puffs of air.
Sighing, I pulled her around, cupped her hand like I was some kind of prince greeting a royal, and bent to gently blow air across the injury.
Her body sagged slightly against the sink, making me glance up. Those long dark lashes fanned against her cheeks, and the grimace of pain left her face.
I continued what I was doing until the antiseptic spray was nearly dry, then reached into the bag for some medicated cream and bandages.
“Hold still.”
Squinting one eye and barely peering through the other, she watched me uncap the cream. Straight white teeth bit into her lower lip.
“Why do you look like that?” I demanded. She shouldn’t be biting herself like that.
“It’s going to hurt again.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You said that last time too.”
“I’m not lying this time.”
She still winced and tensed like I was about to pull her tooth instead of apply soothing cream and a bandage. Halfway through, the tension drained from her b
ody.
“One more,” I said, reaching for another bandage to cover the top of the finger that was still exposed. Finished, I glanced up. “Feel any better?”
“A little.” She agreed. “I’m glad I don’t have to look at it anymore.”
“Turn around. I’ll do your neck.”
“I’m not wearing any pants,” she blurted out.
Both of us looked down.
Even her feet were small and bare, her toes polished.
“I gave you shorts.” I reminded her.
“I have a cut.” Her hand hovered over her upper leg. “I was going to bandage it before I put them on.”
“Let me see.”
“I can do it!” she burst out, words breathless.
“Even with your finger like that?” I gestured to the one we’d just covered.
She seemed a little doubtful.
“Come on, then.” I gestured.
My shirt bunched up in her hand as she tugged up the hem. There was indeed a cut and a few scrapes on the front of her thigh.
“What happened?” I asked, crouching down without thinking.
She jumped back like a bunny pouncing on a carrot and nearly fell over the toilet. “What are you doing?” she demanded, righting herself.
“Bandaging your leg. Do you want to sit on the throne while I do it instead?”
Sheer horror passed over her face, and her thigh appeared in front of me quickly. “Hurry.”
Tension crowded the tiny bathroom that was also filled with the familiar scent of soap. Finished with her leg, I stood, motioning for her to turn around. I didn’t have to tug at the shirt too much to reveal her neck. Instead, I tried to brush away her hair to clear room to work.
“Wait!” she exclaimed suddenly, reaching into the pocket of her discarded jacket and beaming like she’d won something fabulous as she came back with a hair tie.
Her fingers shoved through the silky, glossy strands as though it were an action she’d done a million times before. When she had compiled a short, oddly shaped ponytail near the base of her head, she made a sound.
“What?”
“It’s stuck,” she grumped.
“Huh?”
“Your stupid Band-Aid is stuck on my hair!”
Ivory White : A House of Misfits Standalone Page 6
