Page 23 of Hell Bent

“Where are you?”

“My apartment.”

“Lock the door. I’m on my way.”

“Okay.”

Vicious looked at Player and Joker, who were staring at him like he had two fucking heads. “Sabine needs help.”

“Dude, you have other problems than worrying about that chick,” Player tried reasoning with Vicious.

“I told that girl she could count on us, on me.” Scooping up his keys, Vicious pulled on his jacket and headed for the door. “You two coming with me?”

“Fuck.” Player slapped Joker on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

When Vicious opened the front door, he was met by white all around him. “Shit, I can’t see anything.”

“Can you even find your truck in this shit?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Carefully walking across the little wooden plank that connected his houseboat to the concrete walkway, Vicious prayed he could get to his raven-haired beauty.

Chapter Fifteen

Sway stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Blood, now dry and crusted, covered one side of her face. Turning on the water, she let it warm up while she dug in the cabinet for hydrogen peroxide and ointment. Using a washcloth, she dampened it and began the painful work of cleaning the large cut that ran down her face. With every touch, the cloth pulled at the wound, making it bleed more.

The tears she refused to shed downstairs now flowed freely. She’d always prided herself on being tough, but tonight, she hadn’t felt tough. She felt small and weak. Staring at the blood running down her cheek, Sway promised herself she’d never feel like that again. No matter what happened to her, she’d fight.

A loud knock on the front door startled her. Her phone said it had been forty minutes since she made the call. Closing her eyes, she prayed it was Vicious at her door. Moving through the apartment, she looked out the peephole. Seeing Vicious on the other side, Sway unlocked the door and pulled it open. Snow blew in asVicious and two other men stepped into the apartment. Sway stepped back, giving them room to close the door.

Vicious moved quickly into the apartment. At seeing her face, he reached out for her. “What the fuck?” he asked. As the words slipped from his lips, she began to shake. Grabbing her, he gathered her up into his arms and carried her to the sofa.

Inspecting the wound, he didn’t know what to do about it. She needed a doctor. “Call Razor or Hemlock. We need a medic here now.”

“With the weather . . .” Player started to speak but stopped at seeing the look on his brother’s face. “I’ll see if I can get one of them on the phone.”

Thirty minutes later, Sway sat in a kitchen chair while her face was being cleaned and doctored up. The man tending to her wound said his name was Razor. “I’m using Steri-Strips to close the cut,” he said. “If I stitch you up, you’ll have a bad scar.” Razor was trying to keep the girl calm. He recognized her from the hospital. How could he not—she was a stunner.

“Are you an actual doctor?” she asked the man. He had the most striking pale blue eyes she’d ever seen. They were so pale, it was hard to look away from them. The tattoos that rose from under his T-shirt and ended at the base of his throat intrigued her.

“Yes, I’m an actual doctor. I work at the clinic over in the Red-Light District. And call me Razor. Please.”

“Rough area,” Sway replied as her attention was taken from Razor to a picture behind him.

Razor noticed Sway was staring at something behind him. Looking over his shoulder to see what her eyes were locked on, he saw a picture set in a silver frame on the counter. “Who’s that in the picture? Your family?”

“Me and my brother,” Sway said softly. “He passed away recently.”

Sway watched Vicious as he walked around the room. When he stepped up to the counter and picked up the framed picture, she wanted to rip it from his hands. “Tesh was your brother?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“Son of a bitch.” Vicious looked at the other men in the room. “He was a good friend.”

“If Tesh was such a good friend, why didn’t you attend his funeral?” Her tone was short, and she knew it struck a chord with Vicious by the way he stared at her. She didn’t care. If her brother was indeed their friend, why hadn’t they reached out to her? Why hadn’t they come to his services?

“Hold still,” Razor snapped at her.

Vicious cut a look at Razor. He didn’t like the tone he was using. “We aren’t always welcome,” he said flatly.

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