Page 24 of Burn Like An Angel

“You need another sponge bath?” Raine offers.

“I need a scourer and a bottle of bleach, I think.” My gaze travels, cataloguing the bruises covering every inch of me. “At least the blood is off.”

“The hot water seems to still be working. Maybe we can find somewhere to hole up that has a shower.”

“Maybe.”

Turning back to the mirror, I study the bird’s nest on top of my head. My short, tawny ringlets are matted with sweat and blood. Cursing, I lean into the sink and transfer water from the tap onto my head.

It takes several minutes of scrubbing before the brownish stains stop swirling down the drain. Squeezing water from the semi-clean strands, I call it quits, picking up my share of the borrowed clothes.

“Be glad you can’t see me right now.”

Raine lounges against the wall, my aviators in place. “I still have my imagination. Though in that, you’re lying naked on my bed.”

“Behave.”

“Why?” he drawls.

“This is kind of a life and death scenario right now.”

Raine snickers to himself. “Is my dirty fantasy distracting you from our imminent doom?”

“Little bit, yeah.”

Pulling on clothing, I grab the scuffed pair of Converse last and shove my feet into them. I feel infinitely better after getting dressed. The monumental problems facing us feel less intimidating with clothes on.

“Ready?” Raine checks.

“Yeah. As I’ll ever be.”

He clicks open the door, holding it ajar for me to step back into the now-lit medical wing. Combing my hair with my fingers, I move my throbbing limbs, keeping my gaze averted from Langley’s stare.

While Lennox rests with his eyes closed, Xander has cleaned up too. His thin lips, exaggerated cheekbones and stony expression are now free from blood. He looks odd in old jeans and a too-big t-shirt.

“Feeling better?” Langley breaks the silence.

The cut on his forehead is now closed with Steri-Strips. His headful of thick, dark-brown hair is damp, hanging over his tanned face and fuzz-covered jawline.

Tucking wet curls behind my ears, I nod. “Yes. Thanks.”

“Listen, Rip?—”

“Who are you?”

His aquamarine eyes dart over my face, brimming with secrets. “You really want to do this now?”

“I think I’m owed some answers.”

“Ripley, look?—”

I can practically see the excuses he’s preparing to roll out. My temper flares back to life. He has no idea what he’s done.

“Are you familiar with Harrison?” I interrupt angrily. “Bald dickhead, works for Professor Craven in the Z wing?”

Langley hesitates before answering. “We’ve… met.”

“Well, he found that business card you gave me. I had it stashed in my bra before they stripped us both to torture us with hoses. We were nearly frozen to death overnight… Then that damn card.”

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