Page 16 of Savage Sin

Meaning, if Ares calls him, he’ll have no choice but to answer honestly. He doesn’t like playing games. I can respect that.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, brother.” We clasp hands and I pull him in. I lower my voice because I am a paranoid motherfucker who has trust issues a mile wide. “I would never bring heat to your doorstep, but this girl is the only key I have to finding some answers I’m in a bad way of needing. Help me and I won’t forget it.”

Seth’s brows rise and he gives his head a quick nod after only a second or two. I feel like we just signed a contract in blood.

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t understand. The door is unlocked. Keys are on the counter.”

“Thank you, brother.”

Another nod. It’s like talking to Ares, I swear.

“Trackers?” He pulls out a scanner and sets to work clearing the truck.

“Do you walk around with that in your pocket?”

I get a husky chuckle for an answer to take however I want. Either way, he won’t find anything on the truck. There’s a reason we don’t put tech on our gear. Anything is hackable.

I leave him to it and heft my cargo up, only to pause. A black baggie is on the SUV floor beside her. I shove it in my pocket when I see blood. It blooms across the dirty shirt she’s wearing. At first I thought I caught some brain matter or gunk from the assholes we took down, and that was what I smelled. But this looks like it’s growing the longer I look at it.

Shit. Did she get shot?

Instead of putting her over my shoulder, I carry her into the cabin fireman style and kick the door closed behind me. Another flight of stairs and I enter the first bedroom on the right.

I spread her delicate body out on the bed. To my left is a lamp and I flick that on. Over heads turn on at the same time to flood the massive bedroom with enough light for me to see the full list of damages this woman has suffered. Dirt covers her shins and hands. The bruising on her face turns out to be smudges of dirt. Those wash away. I pick up her arm and turn it one way and then the other. Thes and the ones I see on her upper thighs fade with time, sure. But how they got there stays forever.

The way she is breathing is worrisome. Like she can’t take a deep breath. She’s clammy too. Damn it. Why is nothing ever easy?

“You can’t die before I get my answers.” I grit between clenched teeth. I ease up her shirt to find the dirtbags who shoved her in the ship’s hull stripped her of everything.

Jesus H. Christ.

What I know to be rich creamy brown skin from media shots and newsreels is now an ashen shade of gray. It isn’t until I roll her to the left that I see the jagged edges of a festering wound on her right side. It appears someone did a poor job of stitching up a knife wound on her right side. The wound is about three inches long and I don’t know how deep it is. How she came by it and that bag of Euphoria is added to the top of my list of questions as soon as she comes to.

“Fuck. That looks nasty. What do you need?”

I don’t look up when I hear Seth pound up the stairs and enter the room. I grab a blanket and cover her lower half while leaving the wound bare.

“Med kit, hot water and if you have that vodka, I’ll take some of that.”

He’s gone and back with what I need, like he has medical supplies on hand at every turn. Given his military background, he probably does.

A bottle is shoved in front of my face. “I don’t have vodka, but some bourbon will have to do.”

“It’ll work.” I pop the top and take a healthy mouthful to make my hands stop shaking and then snap on gloves. Now that I’m not looking for bullet holes, I notice someone has shackled her. That will make this a little harder.

“You get the shackles loose and I’ll see about this wound.”

I don’t have the skills of our former doc; may his soul be burning in hell. But I can work some stitches. Seth spreads everything out on the bed for me from disinfectant to clean gauze and a needle.

Whatever I can do will leave a nasty scar on her side, but it’s better than a death by infection. My guess is whoever did this to her gave her the kiss of death and knew it. The human part of me can’t wait to return the favor, but my demons cry to be the one who seeks an eye for an eye with her blood.

I pick up the scalpel. One flick along her jugular and I can return the favor done to my brother right now. Done and over. I can move on. A kill for a kill.

Sweat breaks out over my forehead. There are hundreds of acres out here for a body and a deep grave. I can send her head back to her family and walk away.

My eyelids sink closed. I can already smell the blood and feel the rush of relief.

The innocent should never pay for the crimes of the wicked.

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