Page 13 of Own

Boring humans, not playing with him. I shot him a sympathetic smile as Bones disappeared back into the bedroom. The water kicked on again and he returned with a fresh towel, a damp washcloth, and a glass of water.

“Drink this,” he told me and knelt after I took the water. He cleaned the cut with quick, efficient movements. I sipped the water, and it showed me just how dry my mouth was. The cut stung and I still couldn’t figure out when I did that.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” I murmured.

“Neither was you stabbing a guy in the neck with a pen.” He flicked a look at me briefly before returning to the cut on my arm. “Effective though.”

I huffed out a laugh though the humor dried up when he undid the belt followed by the buttons on my shirt. “Um…”

“Just getting to the cut here.” He didn’t tease or soften the words, just kept it straightforward and blunt. It wasn’t like I was naked under the shirt, the bikini top was more than enough coverage but…

A hiss slipped past my teeth as he continued cleaning the cut. Why it was stinging so much now, I had no idea. My back and my shoulders were starting to hurt too. He replaced the cloth with his fingers, and applied some ointment with gentle touches. It didn’t erase the pain, but it definitely helped to lessen it.

“Why didn’t you stop me from taking the gun?” I was staring at it sitting on the side table. Not once after we left the bank had he tried to take it away or keep it from me. Even when we got here, he put his coat over my arm so I could hide that I still had it.

“Because you didn’t freeze.”

“That’s it?” It seemed almost too easy of an answer.

He spared me a look, something moved behind his pale gray eyes. Something… I couldn’t quite define. An emotion piercing the cool veil, but what precisely it was, I had no idea.

“And I don’t need a passenger—I need someone who’ll fight.” Of all the things I half-expected he would answer with, those words werenotit.

He finished with the ointment then lifted my wrist to study the shallow cut on my arm.

“You don’t trust me,” I said. It wasn’t a question. Not that I could blame him.

“Not yet,” he said, adding the ointment to my arm now. “But I don’t trust anyone. You’re not special.”

The most indelicate snort left me as I scoffed at him. “Liar.”

He just shrugged then eased back before he rose. The steely silence had been replaced by something more brittle, and then a deep snore punctuated it and we both looked at Goblin. The puppy was out.

All at once, worry for Alphabet, Voodoo, and Lunchbox slammed into me. They were still out there. We still didn’t know how they were or where they were. “Do you have another plan?” I had to know.

“Not yet,” Bones answered as he turned away. There were more scars on his back. Whiter slices that seemed weathered into sun darkened skin and dotted in places by rough puckers of flesh that made me think of bullet wounds.

Yeah, no comfort in that either. But I would rather he told me the truth even if I didn’t like it.

“Can I do anything to help?” At my question, he stopped at the doorway to the bedroom.

“Don’t open the door. Don’t call anyone. Try to rest. I want to shower. I imagine you want one too. For now, we lie low. You can do that to help.” The rough tone was back, but it didn’t seem as cold or as distant as it had before.

“Okay.” I rose and retrieved the gun before I went back to sitting on the sofa. Goblin had cracked an eyelid at my motion, but he closed them again once I was seated. “I can do that.”

Silence rushed back in to fill all the empty spaces between us, drowning the cracks and fractures, but not quite filling them in.

“I’ll be quick,” he said, the three words almost startled me and I jerked my head up. I hadn’t realized he was still in the doorway. “Thank you, Grace.”

Then he was gone.

Chapter

Six

LUNCHBOX

Monaco.

---