Page 23 of Dizzy

I rub the handprints, smooth them out. She moans. Her skin’s hot to the touch.

“It’s all right now, baby. Everything’s okay.” I set her upright on her feet.

She’s breathing heavy. So am I.

She blinks at me with her jaw dropped open. I’m expecting her to be furious, but those big brown eyes are dazed.

“Did I hurt you?” My words catch in my throat. I ain’t never done anything like that before. I mean, yeah, I’ve slapped a woman’s ass while we were fucking doggy-style, but this? I watch it in porn, but in real life? No.

“You spanked me,” she whispers. She seems as surprised as I am.

“You’re calm now,” I point out, stepping back.

She squats and tugs up her shorts, casting anxious looks at the doorway to the other room.

“I ain’t gonna let anything happen. You have to trust me.”

“I don’t,” she hisses. “I don’t trust you.” She’s flustered and her fingers keep slipping off the button. I push her hand aside and do it up for her.

She glances up at me under thick black lashes. Her face is as red as her bottom. She really don’t seem mad.

She’s unsteady. Scared.

She should be, but I don’t like it.

“You need help back there?” Jed hollers.

“Fuck off,” I shout back. That asshole is way too eager for this.

Fay-Lee starts trembling all over. Even her chin’s wobbling. Ah, hell.

I bend over and snag my butterfly knife from my boot. I flick my wrist back, unsheathe it so she sees it ain’t a toy. She gasps.

“You used one of these before?”

Her eyes are as round as saucers. Shit. She thinks I’m gonna stab her.

She slowly shakes her headno.

I show her a few times how it opens, how to fold it and hold it by the dull side. I don’t think she’s following much. Then I hold it out to her, handle first.

“Put it in your pocket. Don’t take it out unless you plan on using it.”

I’ll be able to disarm her before she can undo the latch, but if it makes her feel better, I don’t see the harm. Turns out I much prefer her angry to scared.

She nods, somber, and shoves it in her shorts. My chest twinges. She’s a brave little thing. Ain’t right that someone’s let her come to this, all alone.

I gesture to the other room. She walks out, takin’ small steps, as if she’s headed for an execution.

I try to see things from her perspective. There are six huge men, stone-faced, arms folded, in a half circle by a bench. Each one looks like a hardened criminal.

Each oneis, in his way.

Heavy nods to the weight bench. “Sit.”

At some point, Nickel joined us. He’s the only one pacing. Fay-Lee tracks him, and she jumps when he makes his sudden moves.

If you don’t know him, he seems like he’s on coke. He’s intense. I knew guys like that in the service. PTSD. Hypervigilance. Nickel didn’t serve, but his upbringing was its own shitshow. He’s the only man in his family not incarcerated or dead.

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