Page 70 of Queen Of WildCards

Hedidn't wait for an answer, his posture stiff as he rushed from the bathroom and through my bedroom, out into the hallway, where he dripped all over the carpet with reckless abandon.Heturned on his heel and headed straight for his own room, laying her atop his bed with no regard for her soaked state or his own.Myhands shook, butIwas unable to do more than watch as he tended to her, throwing his blankets atop her, checking her pulse, pulling her hair away from her body, and wringing it out over the side of his bed.

Eachdrop of water that splashed against his carpet sank in like the feeling of helplessness that rooted into my chest and took hold.

"Don'tjust stand there, you idiot; get some towels!"

Hissnarled commands were strange; they felt foreign as they tore from his lips and assaulted my ears, fighting through the fog of helplessnessIwas blanketed in.Irushed to his bathroom and yanked the first stack of towelsIcould find down off their shelf, running like a madman back into his room.

Hestared at my paltry offering and shook his head asIstood there with my arms extended, shoving the towels at him likeIwas brain dead. "Youthink this is enough?WhatcanIdo to help?"

Hetook the towels and cringed as my hands crowded him in my efforts to touch her, make sure she was still okay, still breathing.

Whatwould have happened if she'd stayed in that shower any longer?

Shecould have died, and it would have been my fault, all becauseIleft my laptop unlocked, trying to catch her, atAce'sorders.

AceandIwere going to have a nice chat when he came back.

"Gether something thatfitsthat she can wear.Somethingfrom her bags, maybe."BlackJacklifted her head and wrapped a towel around her head, dabbing at the soaked curls matted together as the girl they clung to shivered beneath the blankets he'd piled atop her.

Iran off, a goal in mind, anger building in my gut at myself and the whole situationI'dcaused.

Perhapsit was timeIpaid my father's old friend a visit and got to the bottom of things.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

BLACKJACK

Shewas too fucking cold.

Therewas a brief moment whereIdebated ignoringJoker'sinsistent knocking at my door, butIwas eternally gladIdidn't.Hadhe ignored the situation for a moment longer, there was no telling what would have happened to her.

Allaversion to touch fled my brain whenIfound her curled on that bathroom tile, soaking up the frigid water spewing from the shower, sluicing down her body like the fingers of death.Shewas so cold, had been cold for so long, she'd stopped shivering—and that meant her body had begun to shut down.She'dstarted to give up.

"Whohurt you, princess?"Iwondered aloud, brushing my hand back and forth over the towel wrapped around her head.She'dbegun to shiver in earnest now, her body waking up now that it had been relieved of the constant assault of freezing water.

Jokercame in with a handful of articles of clothing, panting like he'd run a mile, a worried frown marring his otherwise pretty face.Itwas almost comical how oblivious and yet how smart he was, his concern only outshined by the flighty absent-mindedness that seemed to always plague him.Ihad a soft spot for him, being that he'd always been there for me, had pulled me off the streets a long time ago.Hewas the closest thing to a brotherIhad, andIhated to see him so distraught.

"Igrabbed whatIcould find, man.Ihope it's enough."

Helooked like shit, and if he didn't get some air, he was going to set me on edge right there with him. "Getout of here,Cass.Godown to the store and pick up tea bags, some chicken soup, and while you're at it, maybe afuckingXanaxout of the cabinet for yourself, pal."

Itwas the longest grouping of wordsI'dstrung together since we left the streets and joined theWildCards, andJoker'sslack-jawed awe tuned me in to the strangeness of the situation.

"Feelingtalkative, are we?"

Irolled my eyes into the back of my head and sighed. "Someonehas to keep their head.Nowgo."

Heturned on his heel and skipped theXanax, andIdidn't breathe a sigh of relief until he was out of the compound and the sound of his car starting registered on the sensors connected to the monitor across the room from my bed.

Iturned back to the girl in my bed, perching on the edge of the mattress asIsorted through the pile of clothesJokerbrought.

Underwear—fucking insane, how little fabric women's underwear consisted of these days—sat atop a pair of jeans, which looked like they'd be uncomfortable and quite hard to put on her without her assistance.Ashirt sat beneath them, some tank top contraption with six straps—what the fuck went where?

Icouldn't put her in any of this.Therewas no fucking way.Imean, aside from the panties, which sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine.

I'dnever touched a woman, not in any way that counted, not sinceIwas very young, and the thought of sliding panties over her naked nethers had me twisted into knots.Butsomeone had to do it, andIhad a feeling that she'd be eternally upset ifJokerso much as laid a finger on her right now.Iknew he hadn't forced her into bed, whatever it was they'd gotten up to in there, but he'd hurt her somehow, and the pain ran deep—deeper than the skin.

SoI'dbuck up and handle it, like a fucking adult.Iwasn't some blushing boy who'd never seen a vagina.

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