Page 5 of Wicked Ends
“Are you okay?” was his first question.
I stared at him and might have swooned a little, deep down inside. His concern was alien to me. Alien, but oh-so wanted.
“Me? Have you seen your hand?” I reached for his arm and pulled it up, cradling it carefully.
“It’s fine. I’m used to getting busted up,” he said with a slight grin.
I shook my head. “It’s not fine. Do you have a first-aid kit? Or maybe you should go to the hospital.”
He studied me, perplexed. The rest of the bar had moved on, like it was normal to have broken glass and blood all over the floor. Maybe it was for them.
“Honestly, it’s nothing. No one gives a shit.” His tone was nonchalant.
I shrugged. “Well, I do. Can I clean it up, please?” I added when he looked ready to blow me off.
He let out an exasperated sigh and squeezed the back of his neck with his good hand.
“You’re making a big deal over nothing. I’m sure you have better things to do, birthday girl, than patch up a scratch.”
“That scratch is making quite the pool of blood on the floor. Call it a birthday gift, if you need an excuse to let someone take care of you,” I pressed. I didn’t know exactly why I was insisting, only that he’d gotten hurt saving me from having a glass smashed into my head, and I couldn’t let that slide. I had to fix it.
He stared at me for a long moment and then shrugged.
“Okay, sure, knock yourself out. I’ve got a first-aid kit in the back.”
Nodding decisively, I headed behind the bar. When I realized he wasn’t following, I stopped on the threshold to the back room and looked back at him.
“Well, come on, doctor’s orders,” I called to him.
A shadow of a smirk moved across his beautiful lips, and then he was following.
“Keep going. There’s a bedroom back there,” he said from behind me.
We walked through a storeroom and then a small kitchen, where a cook was sitting on the counter and staring at his phone.
I nearly stopped a few times, unsure of where to go, but Marcus put a hand on my hip to direct me, and setting my blood on fire. Holy hell, even a hand on the hip was getting me hot and bothered.
“In here,” Marcus said.
He sounded so much closer than I’d expected, right behind me.
I swallowed a tight knot in my throat and stopped outside a door. There was a padlock on it. He reached both arms around me from behind and turned the dial. I jolted at the intimatecontact. For a moment, it felt like we were going into this private room for something other than first aid. Heat spiraled up my spine.
Calm down, Arianna. You’ll embarrass yourself.
Right. My ghost’s voice in my head was never far away.
I focused on Marcus’ hands, accidentally seeing the number combo.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to use 4321 as a lock combination? It’s too easy to guess,” I rambled.
Marcus chuckled, pushing the door open with one hand. “And yet, no one has ever guessed it. Sometimes simple is best, birthday girl.”
I ducked into the bedroom. It was small and cozy, and a bed took up nearly the entire space. I couldn’t stop looking at it. I bumped into a box on the floor. There was a safe in the wall, and several heavy duffel bags sitting on the floor.
“Careful over there. That’s shit that’s not to be messed with.”
“Good thing you have such a secure combination on the door,” I teased him.
