Page 41 of Ruthless

"Daryl!" someone called out from somewhere close to the apartment. Suddenly a man appeared in the open doorway of Della's apartment, and halted.

His unexpected presence stopped Daryl from kicking me.

"Over here, asshole," Daryl snorted, drawing the guy's attention to us.

The man spun around. "What the fuck, man?" he said, walking across the short space to us. He glanced down at Della and then back up at Daryl. "You were supposed to get money from her, not beat her up. I thought she was your girl." His eyes met mine briefly, before traveling over my body with leering interest. "Who's this sweet thing?"

"Della's fucking friend," he said with all of the hate that I was feeling for him right then.

"She's cute," I heard him say to Daryl.

"Looks like we're gonna have to find another way to get money."

The man's expression switched to slight panic. "You need it now, man! Wicked doesn't fuck around when someone owes him money."

"You think I don't know that?" Daryl yelled back at him.

I'd had enough of their inane conversation, which, thankfully, had taken Daryl's interest off me and Della for the moment. Della was a mess. I crawled my way over to her slowly. I needed to assess her injuries, and as soon as I could I was going to call the police and an ambulance. There was no way I was letting that prick get away with what he'd done.

"Della," I said softly, cupping her face gently. She opened her one good eye, a low moan escaping her. "Do you have your phone on you?" I whispered, feeling that the possibility was high considering that she was dressed for the day. She usually kept it in her pocket. Even before she responded I began to check her front pocket, trying to be as careful as I could. If I could get my hand on it without Daryl noticing, I could at least dial 911. "Honey, talk to me."

Her lips turned up in a half-smile, but all she did was moan. I kissed her forehead. "It's going to be okay." No phone. Damn! I took her hand in mine, and that's when she flinched and I noticed her fingers, which were bent at odd angles. She whimpered in pain as I frowned, trying to make sense of what I was looking at. My gaze snapped back up to hers in horror. "Did he do this?" I whispered sharply. The slightest of nods confirmed it.

I felt sick inside. "You fucking asshole!" I screamed up at Daryl. "You broke her fingers?" I was so enraged that I was shaking.

Daryl shrugged, unconcerned, looking suddenly proud of himself. "She shouldn't have slapped me."

I was going to do more than just slap him. His smug look was like adding gas to the fire. I lost it, flying up at him with a snarl, intending to hurt him in any way that I could. "What is wrong with you?" I hissed, not really expecting an answer. "You're insane!" I cried, going for his eyes, my hands curling like claws. I'd obviously caught him by surprise, because he froze, and I managed to claw deep furrows down his face, to match the ones that Della had given him, before he grasped my wrists and held me back. I kicked out at him. "Bastard!" My hate gave me the fuel to force myself back toward him close enough to knee him in the balls. I took gleeful satisfaction when he released me, doubled over in pain, and fell to his knees. "You're going to prison, Daryl!" I would see to it.

"Jesus Christ!" his friend said sharply, coming up behind me and taking hold of me to keep from doing more damage. I struggled to break free. He lost patience and jerked me backwards against him, wrapping both arms around me and pinning my arms to my side. "Calm down," he demanded roughly against my ear.

"He deserves that and more!" I breathed harshly, ignoring his command. Daryl was slowly getting back to his feet. When he glanced up at me, I could see by his expression that he planned to hurt me. The door was still open, and I took advantage. "Help! Help! Someone help us!" I screamed as loudly as I could, praying that someone would hear and at least call the police. "Help! Hel?!" A smelly hand slammed over my mouth, cutting me off.

I watched Daryl's hands curl into tight fists. He was breathing heavily, anger glittering in his cold eyes. And then he did something that I hadn't been expecting--he reared back his leg and kicked Della hard between the legs. She cried out in pain and slumped the rest of the way to the floor, writhing in agony.

I twisted away from the hand over my mouth. "Noooo!" Tears filled my eyes in response to Daryl's cruelty. I fought his friend with everything that I had, but it wasn't enough to gain my freedom.

Daryl grinned evilly, totally lost in his madness. He came over to me and grabbed me roughly by the hair. "You fight me, she pays," he groused, making his intentions clear.

I wilted against his friend's hold, silently acknowledging defeat. "You're a fucking coward," I hissed with feeling.

"Look, are we gonna spend all day here, man, or what? If they don't have any money I don't see the point."

Daryl looked like he was thinking the situation over, as if he had options. I kept my gaze on Della's quiet, broken body, anxious to get to her. Daryl had to know that as soon as I could I was going to call the police on him, he wasn't stupid, and Della needed medical attention. There was no telling what kind of internal injuries she had. As more time passed, the bleakness of the situation began to overwhelm me. Why didn't they just go away?

I finally lost my patience. "Della is hurt, she needs a doctor!" I rushed out in a pleading tone.

My voice seemed to break through Daryl's thoughts, and suddenly he was focusing his crazed gaze on me. I didn't like the way that his eyes moved slowly down my body and back up again. There was a speculative gleam in them that hadn't been there before. It unnerved me, and I really didn't like the slow, knowing grin that spread over his face, as if he'd just had an epiphany.

His gaze shifted beyond my shoulder to his friend. "You know, Jack, I think I know a way I can get some money."

"What's that, man?"

"I met a dude the other night snorting coke in the bathroom of a bar. Struck up a conversation, had a few drinks. He got wasted enough to tell me that he knows a man who’s always on the lookout for young, pretty chicks. Pays good money for them, too. I don't know what he does with them, and don't give a fuck."

Dread began to fill me at the thought of where Daryl was going with this. Too many scenarios ran through my mind as to where I could end up.

Jack grunted. "Why didn't you think of that before half-killing your girlfriend, man?"

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