Page 20 of Dark OZ

“Yellow Brick is just a convenient cover, and the money practically cleans itself.” Crowe pushed open a door at the base of the stairs. “Here we are.”

Beyond him was a large room. Not a room, but a suite of rooms. There was a small living area with a large fish tank set into one of the walls. It washed the couch, table, and chairs in fluttering light. Beyond that, a large bed sat against a far wall. A forgotten light from an adjoining bathroom leaked into the dark room, illuminating still-rumpled sheets from the night before.

Crowe flicked on a lamp. Like the rest of the house, his room was neat, minimal. It made me wonder if they all lived like at any moment they might never return. “I’ll sleep in here on the couch. You can have the bed. It would be better if you could stretch out on your stomach to sleep.”

I nodded. The passing time had not made the throbbing at my back go down. My stressing muscles pulled against the wounds every time I tensed up.

Crowe walked over to an intercom set beside the doorway. Pushing a button, he said, “Bring the med kit down here.” He didn’t wait for a reply before walking to a small kitchenette and pulling two beers from the fridge.

I bent over to look into the fish tank. A large tropical fish with long, colorful spines swam slowly around. It was a massive tank, and yet this fish was the only one in it, along with some plants and a replica shipwreck. Was that because this fish didn’t play well with others? Or was she just kept alone to sell off once she’d stopped being useful?

There was the hiss of a cap being lifted, then the cool glass of a bottle slid down my arm to my hand, eliciting a shiver from me.

“The light is better in the bathroom, but you’re probably going to need to lay down for this… and maybe drink up. That can’t hurt either.”

I took a long swig from the bottle. It was a light, malty, pale ale with some serious hop to it. In combination with the scotch, it was strong enough that it made my head swim. I took another swig and smacked my lips at the piney aftertaste.

“Do you like it?”

The label on the bottle was for an indie brewery in Emerald City. I wasn’t surprised that Crowe stocked small batch beer. It made sense, in the same way that Danny pouring a fifty-year-old scotch was perfectly logical.

“Sure. Do you have any food in that tiny, tiny kitchen? The booze… it’s going straight to my head.”

“Yeah,” he said with a breathy exhale, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I think I have some crackers in here somewhere. Maybe tomorrow we can try something a bit heavier. If you try to do too much too quickly, you’ll make yourself sick.”

Crowe tossed me a pack of saltines at the same time the door swung open. A broody, grim-faced Nick waited on the other side. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up, casting his face in shadow. I half expected to see a face of bone peaking out.

“You could come in instead of standing there like the angel of death.”

Nick moved into the room with near silent steps. He dropped a heavy box onto the floor. Its many drawers and compartments clattered. “I’m here. Came down all these damn steps. So, either we do this now, or I’m leaving, and you can deal with it yourself.”

He settled squarely in front of me. I tightened my jaw and strengthened my stance as much as my aching body would allow. Not that it did anything.

“It’s cute that you think that baby scowl is intimidating.” He reached for the hem of my shirt, the backs of his fingers curling against my upper thighs.

“Hey!” I shouted, slapping at his hands.

“You’re going to have to get over it. This is coming off one way or another.”

“Not in here, the bedroom,” Crowe interjected.

“That’s what you object to?” My blood was rising, taking my fury with it. I could feel it burning my cheeks and the back of my eyes. “Not that Nick decided to start stripping me, only that we were doing it in the wrong room? My savior.”

Ignoring me, he added, “I saw the beating she took. It’s going to take time, and she’s going to need to lie down. But first, I’m going to have to clean her up. It’ll be a miracle if she isn’t already fighting off an infection.”

Nick’s eyes stayed on Crowe like they were having a long and silent conversation. When he spoke again, the octave and tone of his voice were dramatically different. “Why don’t you start by telling me exactly how you were injured.” He was unnervingly calm. The steel of his eyes snagged on the bruise along my cheek. The unexpected empathy evaporated the steam of my anger like opening the bathroom door after a hot shower.

I pulled at the wrapper of my beer, tearing off small pieces of the label. I wasn’t sure that I liked how easily he had unsettled my defenses.

Nick grabbed my shoulders and started walking me backwards towards the bathroom. “You’re going to have to pick. Are you the vulnerable and wounded heiress or the tough-as-nails ballbuster? This flip-flopping of attitude is making me dizzy with indifference.”

“Maybe I’m both.” My eyes flicked over his shoulder towards Crowe. He put his beer down on a side table and followed along. I did my best to hide my relief. He wasn’t going to force me to go through this alone. I’d always licked my wounds on my own before. But nothing had ever been this bad before either, and now that the adrenaline was gone, I was trying very hard not to focus on how completely fucked my situation had become.

The cold tile of the bathroom floor slid under my feet until I bumped into the counter. Nick reached around me, turning on the faucet and pulling the stopper to fill the sink.

“You can be whatever you like, so long as you cooperate. If you don’t want me to strip you, then this would be the time when you take this off.” He pulled the bottle from my hands, draining the remaining contents. I watched the thick muscles of his throat work as he gulped down the beer, then he effortlessly tossed it over his shoulder to a waiting Crowe like they did this all the time.

I let out a long sigh. It was only skin. I could handle this and whatever else these two decided to throw at me.

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