Page 11 of Beautifully Wounded

“We need to get you cleaned up,” I mutter, watching as she brings her wrists to her chest, her breathing quickening. “Your hands are cut up from the glass. Jols can put a dressing on them to protect the wounds.”

“J-Jols?”

Her voice is so husky, cracking a bit as she speaks, but it sounds so small. Like a baby fucking mouse.

“I’m Jols,”Jols speaks up, flicking on the interior light and turning in her seat to peer back at us.

“I-I thought h-he c-called you J-Jay?”

A smirk pulls at my lips at Abbey’s words. I don’t know why, but for some fucking reason, I like that she paid attention earlier.

Jols nods. “Yeah. Jay, as in the letter J. J for Jols. We don’t use real names on a job.”

“A job?” Abbey asks, shifting on my lap to turn and face me.

“Yeah.” My grin grows. “A kidnapping job.”

My words widen her eyes, while the fellas chuckle and get out of the car, and Jols just shakes her head at me.

“Stop being a prick.”

“What?” I shrug, my tone all innocent, but Jols just scoffs and gets out of the car too, leaving me and my little captive alone in the van.

“We are going to get out now, Charity, but just in case you need the warning, you don’t want to know what will happen if you try to run.”

She shoves back off me, her arse falling to the seat next to us, those brown eyes wild with fear as they glass over.

“W-why do y-you keep calling me C-Charity?”

Leaning in close, I hook my finger under her chin and tilt her head back until she resists a little. “From now on, you won’t be known as Abbey. No one can know your real name, unless, of course, you want your fiancé to find you?”

She shakes her head as much as she can under my touch. “Can I have a d-different name?”

Releasing her chin, I grumble, “no,” before opening the door and slipping out.

I’mexpecting her to argue, but when she doesn’t, instead, simply slipping out of the car behind me, I’m a little disappointed.

As Jols grabs some stuff out of the van, I lead Abbey up the path to the toilet block.

“All clear, man,” Murf mutters as we near, holding a door open. “No shower, though.”

Glancing back at Abbey, her eyes dart around frantically, giving away her panicked thoughts as she takes in the situation. When she glances into the dark bushland to our left, I have to wonder if she’s contemplating running.

Sighing, I reach back and fist her upper arm, dragging her to my side as a fearful squeak passes her lips.

“Inside,” I snap, hauling her into the fluorescent lit facility that’s surprisingly well maintained.

Glancing around, there are three toilet cubicles, a paper towel dispenser on the wall, and a small counter with two hand basins and a dingy mirror sitting behind them on the brown brick wall.

Releasing her arm, I test the hot water tap, relieved when the cool water turns warm.

“I’ve got this,” Jols announces as she steps inside with us. “You can wait outside.”

Turning my raised brow on her, she rolls her eyes at me.

“Seriously, Ringo. You don’t think I can handle a teenager that’s scared of her own shadow?”

Abbey frowns at Jols’ words, but I ignore that and give Jols the bad news.

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