Page 89 of Russian Roulette
Reaching over, I touch his shoulder. It seems like forever since we were wrapped in each other’s arms when it’s only been a few hours. He turns his head and kisses my hand. “Don’t worry, baby,” he says, suddenly serious. “We’ll take care of you. We’ve got you now.”
44
JADE
An hour later, I’m lying on the sofa with my leg propped up on a pillow. The pain in my leg has turned into a deep, throbbing ache that stretches from my knee to upper thigh. I’m trying to hide how much I’m hurting. They feel bad enough as it is and have been constantly hovering around me since we arrived back at Kit’s.
Kit turned out to be plenty capable of cleaning and bandaging my cut. He applied a tissue bonding glue that he uses for minor animal injuries to close the wound and it appears to be working. I didn’t ask him if the glue was approved for human use, since I will try anything to avoid going back to the emergency room for stitches. The cut will leave a scar, which is a tiny price to pay for staying out of the hospital’s computer system.
“Can I get you anything?” Kit asks for the millionth time. He hasn’t left my side since we arrived back at the house.
“Not unless you have a horse tranquilizer you can shoot me up with?” I joke.
“Actually I do,” he says, smiling at me. “They’re big cat tranquilizers in case of an emergency. I would never use the darts unless it was a matter of life or death. I hope you’re not that far gone yet.”
“By tomorrow, I’ll be good as new,” I reassure him. “I have a high tolerance for pain.”
“Why is that?” he asks.
“No particular reason,” I reply. I don’t tell him the truth because I don’t want him or the other guys to feel sorry for me. That I learned early on that no one cared if I was in pain. Or hungry. Or cold. Everyone ignored me because I was nothing to them except a paycheck. A pitifully low one, too.
“Speaking of tomorrow,” Seven says casually. “Do you have any big plans for the day?”
“Besides eating Kit’s famous green drink for breakfast and trying to recuperate?” I reply. “No, I don’t have plans beyond that.”
This whole time I’ve been plotting and planning for when I escape from them. Now that they’ve told me I’m free to leave, I’ve been delaying thinking about my next step.
“Why do I get the feeling the minute we turn our backs, you’ll hobble to the bathroom and crawl or fall out the window again?” Vulcan asks. “If you plan to leave, tell us. Don’t hurt yourself by doing something stupid.”
“Are you all expecting me to leave town without saying goodbye?” I ask.
“Maybe,” Seven says after a moment. “You’ve done other unexpected things that surprised us.” He’s referring to my sleeping with Vulcan. The jealousy between the guys will not work. I can’t have them fighting over me. It’s not worth the damage it will cause.
“None of you know me well enough to predict what is expected or unexpected behavior from me,” I remind him.
“I’m beginning to understand that,” Seven says. “We want to be prepared; in case you’re already making plans to leave town. If you are, we’ll respect your decision. We would like to at least tell you goodbye. And try to talk you out of it, of course.”
“And if I’m not planning to leave town?” I ask. “Then what? Nothing in this world is free. What’s the deal if I decide to hang around a little longer?”
Seven scoots up to the edge of his chair and takes my hand in his. “We only have one condition if you decide to stay here with us. We’ve talked this through and we’re all in agreement.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Tell us the truth about everything. Why you’re here in Vegas and the real reason the Russian mafia is after you. Leroy told us you asked him to find a girl here in Vegas. I’m sure you didn’t expect him to keep it a secret. If you stay, you need to be honest with us. It’s not too much to ask since two rival mafia groups are searching for you.”
I draw in a deep breath. It’s now or never. “I understand your position and it’s fair. My being here is putting all of you in danger, too. How much time do you have to listen? I’m finally ready to talk.”
“Do I need a drink for this big reveal?” Vulcan asks. “Hang on! I’m sure I do.” He moves toward the kitchen before turning back around. “Damn! I forgot Kit doesn’t keep alcohol in the house.” He sits on a chair pulled close to the sofa. “Sorry for the interruption. We’re ready to hear whatever you’re willing to tell us.”
“I’ll start from the beginning and the story might be boring,” I warn them. “There’s not much to say about my childhood, except that I grew up in foster homes and spent most of my time alone. I read a lot and tried to get by day-to-day until I turned eighteen.”
Vulcan is nodding his head as if he understands. “You too?” I ask him. “Were you in foster care?”
“Yes, until I ran away at sixteen, and no one cared enough to come find me,” he replies. “This is your story, not mine. Keep going.”
“I studied hard in school and mostly kept to myself. When my monthly foster child payments ran out at eighteen, my foster parents kicked me out and told me I was on my own. I didn’t mind since I’d been expecting and preparing for it the best I could. The guidance counselor at my high school helped me a lot. My high school offered a joint admission program where I could take college classes, which also counted toward my high school credits. After graduation, I applied for financial aid at a local college. I was able to get a small scholarship for tuition only.”
“Where did you live when you were in college?” Seven asks. “On campus?”
