Page 12 of Selling Innocence

Chapter Three

Tor

How did I end up in this mess?

I sighed as I looked at the frightened girl in my room, the way she trembled, the red that lined her eyes. Amazingly, she hadn’t cried yet, but that had to be out of sheer stubbornness.

And I did mean girl. She was twenty-one according to all her records, but she didn’t seem much older than a teenager. Then again, from her history, it seemed she’d lived off her daddy’s money. She was a trust fund baby who had never had to do anything herself.

I should hate that, but a part of me wanted her to keep that. I wanted her to go back to her perfect little life without having any idea of the uglier sides of the world. I hated when anyone lost their innocence. It was something that should be protected at all costs.

I opened the door to the bathroom, then gestured for her to use it. She eyed it suspiciously, but when her gaze fell to the bag in her arms, she seemed to give in.

Her medical condition concerned me. I understood how taxing such things could be, recalled my own struggles with health. I didn’t envy her the ongoing struggle, but at least it seemed she was used to it. Her medical records suggested that she kept a close eye on her numbers, that she managed her condition well. We had ensured that we had the same brand and type of both a continuous reader and the insulin pens that she’d used previously, making the transition easier.

After around ten minutes, Mackenzie returned from the bathroom, the bag still in her arms like a shield. Then again, I felt that way about my weapons. I never felt safe or whole without them. However, her pose displayed the damage to her wrists.

They were badly bruised, and one side had cuts, as well. Whoever had put them on had done so too tightly, and no doubt pulling her by her arm had added pressure.

I couldn’t just leave her like this.

She brought her wrists forward, glancing down at the damage as if noticing it for the first time. I expected her to lose her shit, to start crying, to beg me to let her go. When a person saw their own blood, it tended to get them willing to give in. It reminded them of their own mortality, of all the other things they could suffer.

Except, Kenz didn’t do that. She didn’t cry, didn’t give the marks more than a cursory glance before dismissing them and looking at me again. “Your name is Tor, right?”

I nodded as I went over to the large on suite bathroom, grabbing the first-aid kit from a cabinet. When I returned to the room, she was right where I’d left her.

Part of me had wondered if she’d bolt the moment I had my back turned, but it seemed she wasn’t the fleeing type. Was it because she was afraid of what we might to do her if she tried?

Smart girl. Or, perhaps it was better to say it helped me. It was easier to deal with people who fell into line.

I didn’t enjoy her fear, but it simplified my life.

I held up the first-aid kit.

Kenz looked at it, then shook her head. “I’m not hurt.”

I pointed at her wrists.

She tucked them behind her, as if that erased that I’d seen them. Then again, why would she trust me? Especially when she was hurt?

Whether I understood her reasoning or not changed nothing. She was under my care, and I took that seriously. I doubted she’d trust me, that she’d agree to let me help her on her own, which meant pushing.

I tossed the first-aid kit on the bed and pointed to the foot of it. Kenz swallowed hard, then shook her head again.

Too bad. I caught her arm, careful not to yank her hard, but pulled her over so she sat on the bed. I had a feeling one reason it went so easily was that her legs wouldn’t hold her much longer on their own.She still held the bag of her insulin like a lifeline.

I crouched in front of her, close enough to discourage her from causing a fuss, and flipped open the lid of the first-aid kit. I took out and tore open a wipe, then caught her forearm to hold her still. The shaking went on, but I held her securely as I cleaned the blood away.

Blood didn’t bother me, not in my line of work, but a tightness in my chest said I didn’t care for it here. Then again, I’d never enjoyed seeing innocents die needlessly, and this girl struck me as damned innocent.

I put antibacterial spray on the wound, ignoring her hiss at the sting. A bandage finished off the treatment, since I couldn’t do much about bruises or the other minor scrapes.I repeated the actions on the other wrist, allowing her to switch which arm held her bag.

I tossed the trash away and put the kit back in the bathroom when I’d finished. After washing my hands, I returned to find the girl had still yet to move. She stared at her wrists as though it would help her understand something. I could almost see how she went back over the past few days, over everything that had happened, no doubt wondering if there wasn’t something she could have done differently, something to change this all.

I’d seen people make that face so many times—often just before they met their end at my hands. People liked to think they could control things, change them, but that wasn’t reality. Everything was chaos, and we could only try to survive it.

I locked the windows, ensuring they wouldn’t budge, that the alarms were all in place. We had a state-of-the-art security system at the house, and given the sort of men we were, the enemies we’d made through our lives, we always made sure to set it. I slept light, but that didn’t mean I should make things easier for her.

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