Page 70 of The Venom We Bleed

“Hurry up in there,” I hear Nolan call out. “Your time is almost up.”

My hands and arms are an angry red, but I have no doubt that Nolan Pierce means it when he says he’ll come in here and drag me out if I put off facing them. I can’t afford another broken door. So, I switch to my hair, shampooing, conditioning, scrubbing, and scratching at my scalp as though that'll alleviate the feeling of bugs crawling all over my skin. It doesn't.

The second knock on the door a few minutes later halts any plans to start washing all over again. “I’m coming!” I call out, shutting off the water.

"I've got a pair of sweats and a tank here for you. I'm going to set it on the floor here.” Nolan's deep baritone enters the room as I hear the door creak open. I go still. I locked the door. I know I fucking did.

Gripping the edge of the plastic curtain, I yank it to the side, making sure to cover my nakedness as I glare across the small room at him. “How the fuck did you open the door?” I demand. “I locked it.”

Nolan lifts his head, cinnamon eyes sliding down to my bare shoulder immediately before slowly lifting to my face. One dark brow arches. “It’s a cheap lock, Princess,” he says. “It’s notdifficult to pick.” He nods down to the clothes he laid on the floor. “Gio and Lex are going to run out and grab a few things. Get dressed. They’ll be back soon."

My mouth hangs open as he shuts the door behind him.

What. An. Asshole.

I shut off the water and step out, grabbing the towel off the toilet and drying off as I pick up the clothes he left for me. No bra or underwear. Nolan probably thought I was wearing them. I shake my head. Guys don't understand that girls don't wear bras any more than they have to. As for my underwear ... I clench the elastic tie of my sweatpants' waistband as tight as it'll go. There's no use pointing out the reason I'm not wearing any. My pajamas weren’t the only thing my attacker had cut away.

Nolan stands in the combo living room and bedroom with his phone in his hands as he types furiously away. When the bathroom door swings shut behind me, making a creaking noise, he looks up. His eyes move from my face down to my breasts and I know just when he realizes what he forgot. He blinks as his lips part. My nipples pebble against the thin fabric of the tank, but I don’t rush to hide them. There’s no point. I just turn away, rubbing my hair with the towel to hasten the drying process.

After a beat, Nolan clears his throat. “You good?” I snort and rub faster. “Okay,” he amends, “do you feel any better now that you’ve had a shower?”

I glance at him. “Marginally,” is all I say.

With a frown, he turns away and stalks across the studio. Leaning into the tiny closet that acts as storage and clothing space, he flips through my meager belongings. A moment later, he pulls back and turns, holding out a giant oversized sweater. His upper lip curls away from his teeth as he skims an eye down the jagged pastel stripe print that belongs on a '70s paper cup.

“Couldn’t find anything uglier?” he asks.

Rolling my eyes, I rip the towel away from my hair and drop it to the floor before stalking towards him. I rip the sweater from his grasp and yank it on before crossing my arms over my chest.

“I’ll let you know when I’m taking fashion advice from a guy who thinks motorcycle boots go with his football jersey.”

He glances down and then back up with that same arched brow as if to tell me ‘I’m not wearing my jersey.’ I narrow my eyes. The fact that he’s not wearing itright nowdoesn’t matter—I’d seen him wear them in tandem at school many times before. When neither of us voices the internal battle we’re having after a few more moments of pure, spiteful silence, I turn away.

"So," I begin, glancing from side to side, looking for the others before I remember what he'd said about them running out for something. I return my eyes to him. "What now?"

Nolan moves into the kitchen and leans down to pick up a duffle I hadn't noticed before. It looks like one of the sports bags given out to all of the guys on the football team, but the top is unzipped, revealing clothes from my own closet. And that’s not all. The box with Lex's cell phone gift in it is packed right on top and beneath it, my laptop.

"Now, I’m going to take you home and you’re going to get some sleep." With his free hand, he shuffles the broken door out of the way and holds it for me to pass under his arm.

“You really expect me to come home with you?” I blink at him. “Just like that?”

He tilts his head to the side, a dark lock of hair falling over one side of his forehead. “Do you have any better choices right now?”

I press my lips together, hating that the fact is I don’t. Even if I can find a motel to stay at, there aren’t any close to the school. With a sigh, I glance around and find my sneakers half-buried beneath the futon. I don't bother looking for socks and just stickmy feet inside before reaching down and fixing the back lip so it doesn't get stuck and folded beneath my foot.

Ducking beneath Nolan's arm, I spy Lex's SUV turning into the parking lot. The headlights are off, which means he doesn’t want anyone to notice him. I watch him as he drives past Nolan's bike and the dark red car parked at the front of my apartment building, heading around to the back. Half-turned, I peer back at Nolan as he follows me from the apartment, turning to grip the broken door and angle it back over the opening.

“What about the—” I cut myself off with a grimace before I say too much. Even if the people of Silver Creek Apartments mind their business, it’ll do me no good to borrow trouble and say anything out loud.

They're going to get rid of the body.

Nolan’s eyes glitter in the darkness of the night as he looks back at me, hefting the duffle bag up higher on his shoulder. “Gio and Lex will come back and board this up for you,” he says, not answering my unfinished question.

There’s no question about whether or not the Scorpion Kings are dangerous men. A murder happened here tonight, and not a single one of them flinched. They’re taking the body of the man I killed, and they’re making it all disappear. What should fill me with relief, only fills me with wariness.

“This is a debt.” One I’m not sure I’ll like paying back, much less be able to.

Those red-brown eyes of his are twin pools of something hypnotic. When a thumb touches the side of my cheek and I flinch at the sudden pain it brings, I realize he's not looking into my eyes so much as he's examining me. I’d seen the redness on my cheek in the bathroom mirror, but I hadn’t realized how much it hurt until he touched it.

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