Page 54 of Skin Deep

“Not that it matters. He’s worm food now, isn’t he? Be a pity if something were to happen to your little bro.”

“Don’t, War,” Xander wheezed on the floor. “I can take it. It’s okay.”

Flashes of that night came back, racing through my mind. Brandon bloodied and dazed, beaten so badly his face was barely recognizable. Even so, the way he looked up at me when they put the gun in my hand and demanded I shoot him… It wasn’t hate he looked at me with. I could’ve lived with his hate, or his anger.

He’d uttered the same words to me.“It’s okay.”

Like he was giving me permission to sacrifice him to save myself.

I couldn’t do it then, and I wouldn’t do it now.

I glanced down at the floor and almost threw up. It was filthy, covered in all kinds of dirt, dust, and who knew what else? Everything in me recoiled at the idea of kneeling in that. And kissing someone’s shoe? That was even worse. One of the most filthy, disgusting, vile things Sergei could’ve asked me to do.

“Tick tock,” Sergei mused. “Ten more seconds and then I retract my offer. Better decide fast.”

I ripped off my blazer and threw it on the ground before sinking to my knees. “I have your word?”

Sergei smirked and held his shoe out with a nod. “Better convince me you mean it.”

I closed my eyes and leaned forward. The smell of shoe polish, dirt, and general foot filth filled my nose. I had to fight not to gag.Don’t think too much about it. Just do it.

Cringing, I planted a quick, light kiss on Sergei’s boot.

He laughed and pushed my head back with the sole of his foot while I lost my battle against gagging. “Good dog. Now, ask me nicely. Don’t forget the please and thank you.”

I wiped my wrist across my lips and glared up at him, imagining slicing his face off slowly. “Please, Sergei, will you let us go?”

Sergei grinned and spread his arms wide. “There. Now, was that so hard?” He snapped his fingers. “Viktor, make sure our friends here get to the door safely.”

Heavy hands came down on my shoulders, yanking me to my feet, and then I was being dragged toward the door.

“You’re welcome,” Sergei shouted after us, laughing loudly.

I winced as light flooded my vision. Whoever was dragging me flung me out onto the pavement and I landed with a grunt.

I pushed up on shaky arms and immediately went to Xander, whom they’d tossed out with me. “Xander!”

He groaned as I turned him over on his back but didn’t fight as I pushed his shirt up and winced at the bruises blooming all over his torso.

I pressed lightly along his ribs. “Take a deep breath.”

“Fuck, my arm,” he ground out.

I moved my exam to check his right arm, which was swelling. He hissed in pain when I pressed my fingers to the worst of the bruises.

“Might be broken,” I said, shaking my head. “Can you get up? We need to go home.”

“Home? He looks like he needs to go to the hospital,” came the heavily accented voice of our waiter.

I turned my head and found Beau offering me a vodka bottle, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. I took the bottle and used it to wash my mouth out, spitting and gagging as I remembered what I’d done. I desperately wanted to go home and shower, maybe burn my clothes, but I had to make sure Xander was taken care of first.

“I’m okay, I think,” Xander said, sitting up. “Just take me home.”

“Honey, those assholes in there are blood thirsty demons,” Beau continued. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“You are not fine,” I insisted. “Your arm is broken and you might have a fractured rib.”

“Shit,” Xander muttered as I helped him to his feet. “Mom’s going to kill me.”

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