Page 27 of Pushed

As the realization set in of what was surrounding me, the sounds floated into my ears, causing my stomach to swirl. There were heavy moans and hard breathing, I could feel the room vibrating and the weight of body heat fall over my skin, glazing the surface like dirty icing.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.

Machi stopped short, causing me to bump into his lower back. His body twitched as he snapped his head in my direction, but I forced my eyes to stay on the floor and not look up.

The weight of his glare pressed down, stiffening my muscles. I didn't move.

“Machi!” A scratchy voice yelled.

“Ethan, how are you?” His body shook as the two men exchanged a handshake.

“Very good, the turn out is excellent tonight, don't you think?”

“It is.” Machi cleared his throat, his fingers fumbling around mine in a tender squeeze. There was reassurance in his grasp, a small moment of compassion that went without a visual glance or word. “How many are going tonight?”

Ethan twirled a glass in his hand, making the ice bounce off each other. “Well, without your two, we have six.” I heard the man sip his drink, sucking the liquid off his lips with a loud slurp. “Sylvan is well aware, and I'm sure you can imagine, he wasn't too happy.”

“I took care of it.” Machi's thumb rolled over the top of my palm, rubbing it back and forth. “We won't run into that issue again.”

“You're running thin, Machi, Sylvan doesn't give strikes, consider yourself lucky.”

“Let him tell me himself.” An angry growl spilled off his tongue as he spoke. “He likes to send his little henchmen to give me his thoughts, it's getting old. I've been here for how long now, two years? And I have yet to meet the man himself, instead he sends your ugly face to tell me what he thinks. I don't like it, Ethan, it won't fly much longer.”

“These things take time, Machi, he doesn't speak to every lowlife he takes in off the street.”

“Lowlife? Did you really just call me a lowlife?” Stepping in with a hard jerk, Machi yanked on my arm as he loomed over Ethan.

“Oh come on, Machi, don't take it personal. Trash is trash, you fall just outside that description, that's a good thing.”

Machi's hand squeezed mine harder, pressing bone to bone. Lifting my free hand, I tried to signal him that he was hurting me. Except he didn't notice, he kept squeezing and squeezing, using my hand as the release for his anger.

“Fuck you, Ethan.”

Laughing, Ethan swirled his glass again, holding out a finger towards Machi. “Be careful, I'd watch what you say to me. You're not untouchable, Machi, remember that. ”

I tried to keep quiet, I really did. But it felt like my bones were being crushed under the skin. Squeaking softly, I dug my nails into Machi's hand and tried to pry it free.

Both men stopped talking as their heads cocked in my direction. I didn't mean to look up anymore than I meant to make a sound. It just happened on reflex, unwittingly and by pure instinct.

“I—I'm sorry.” I whispered, dropping my head down and letting my hair fall in front of my face. Using my hair as a shield, I stared at my toes. Ethan's eyes had been just as evil as the men who worked for Machi, only blacker.

My skin bristled, my toes tingled and wriggled to take off running in the other direction. Running the tips of my nails over the pads of my fingers, I breathed in slowly, trying to calm the unsettled need to get away.

“And who's this? I've never seen her before?” Ethan looked me over, running his fingers through my hair. “Did you bring her as a gift for your fuck up?”

His long blonde hair didn't budge as he leaned in, slicked tight against his scalp, it stayed perfectly in place. A dark blue suit dressed his thin frame as his long fingers moved and crawled like the legs of a spider over my head.

I wanted to jump back and slap his hand off me. My body tensed up, my stomach bubbling in disgust. He had touched me like I was his, like he had the rights to me in some sick way.

Under hooded lids, my eyes glanced up and then back at the floor. Furrowing my brows into the bridge of my nose, my lip curled into a snarl, ready to scream at him the longer his hands were on me.

“She's not ready, Ethan, not yet.” Machi stepped between us, pushing me directly behind his back. His touch was possessive and firm, creating a solid wall between Ethan and myself.

To say I was grateful was an understatement. The fact that he stepped up and stopped that creep from touching me sent a rush through my system. It meant something, it brought new life to his words of protection and safety.

Maybe I was grasping at straws, trying to find some form of good in the man who had brought this down on me, but he didn't have to stop him. Machi could have let him touch me, he could have stood by and allowed that man to grope and explore my body.

But he didn't.

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