Page 34 of Dark OZ

“Fine,” I sighed. “That bastard deserves to have a story told about him since he was all too fine with gossiping about me this morning.” I took a long sip of my beer. It was one of Crowe’s that I’d cracked open on accident, a bitter IPA that tasted like sucking on a Christmas tree.

“Crowe and Nick used to run jobs for Nick’s father, Salvatore Ciopriani.” I paused, waiting to see any sign of recognition. All she did was blink like big eyed doe. “When they moved over here from Italy, he changed the name to Chopper. He’s just the kind of dick to think Chopper sounded cool.”

“Aww…I can just imagine a little gangster, Nick. That’s adorable.” Dorothy settled into the seat next to me, tucking her feet beneath her neatly. She idly dipped the tea bag in her mug. Steam curled around her fingertips. I had never noticed her nails before: short, unadorned by polish. Unlike what I would have expected, they were rough around the edges—like she’d been scraping at the surface of something until they’d gone raw. That made my heart resonate with a compassion I didn’t want to feel and tugged at alongforgotten memory.

“Nobody has ever described Niccolo Chopper as adorable. Even as a baby, he was intimidating.”

She bit down on her lower lip to keep the slight smile from rising. It made something in me flicker.

I pushed it away.

“What kind of jobs?”

“Small time mostly. Picking pockets and delivering packages, that type of thing. Crowe got it in his head that they should try for something bigger to impress Nick’s father into giving them more serious work.”

Dorothy leaned forward, hanging on my every word like she actually gave a shit. “What did they steal?”

“A car.” Her eyes widened, making them shift into a teal color. Oz damn, they were beautiful.

“Did they know how to steal a car?”

“No, but not knowing what he’s doing never stopped Crowe before and hasn’t stopped him since.”

She seemed genuinely interested, which made the ground feel remarkably unsteady. The fact that she kept twisting her hair around her fingers, wasn’t helping either. Now that it was clean, the long strands curled into soft romantic waves. I was sure they would feel like silk if I ran my fingers through it. Not that I was imagining brushing it back from her face or wrapping it around my fist.

Swallowing against my dry mouth, I continued, “I would normally never admit this.” Like they could tell I couldn’t stop staring at them, the long auburn waves slipped over her shoulder, brushing the back of my hand as they fell loosely between us. She was close enough I could smell the rich undertones of Crowe’s shampoo mingling with something altogether feminine. Close enough to make me forget myself, my purpose.

“For most of my early years, Crowe tormented me. He was a complete dick. Those movies where the bully always gets his comeuppance? Complete shit. He never got in trouble. Everyone loved him. Everyonealwaysloves him.” I tried not to make my voice sound as bitter as I felt. Even Dorothy had picked Crowe first—but that asshole wasn’t here now, was he? “For years, if he and Nick were coming down one hall, I’d go the opposite way. Then, one day, the two of them approached me while I was at work.”

Dorothy didn’t need to know any of this, but her attention was focused on me without the flaming animosity, and it was…nice. She wasn’t smiling exactly, but her posture had relaxed, and she seemed so much softer. Like something that would be comforting to hold.

Problem was, I didn’t do nice. I didn’t do comforting.

Downing what was left in the bottle, I moved quickly to the kitchen. I needed to stop this before it became something I actually liked. “We should work on changing your dressings.”

Dorothy straightened her back, the ease that had washed over us disappearing as if that girl had never been here. It was better this way. Maybe if I didn’t have to watch her hazel eyes soften from brown to green, then it would be easier to hold a conversation without feeling like I was losing myself in it.

I popped open the medkit and gestured at the empty space at the end of the counter. “Lose the shirt.”

“You’ve been waiting all night to say that, haven’t you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I slapped the counter beside where I was prepping what we needed. “Now get that tight ass over here and strip.”

“Ugh.” She faked a sound of disgust. “It’s always, ‘strip for me, drop your pants, say my name when I make you come.’ You three are so bossy.”

I almost laughed before I caught myself. Crowe always did have a thing for hearing his name, unimaginative fuck. “Princess—” My voice dropped low and gravelly, “—when I make you come, you won’t be able to speak, much less remember anyone’s name. Now get over here.”

The wicked smile she was sporting fell, morphing into a cute‘Oh’before snapping shut. For once, she actually did as she was told. Sort of. Dorothy walked over to the counter. Facing away from me, she tried to pull the shirt off. The edges snagged on the bandages along her back. I let her struggle for a few minutes longer than necessary just to see what she would do. Dorothy growled in frustration, stomping her feet. It was oddly adorable to watch. When she looked like she might finally explode, I gingerly lifted the garment over her head.

From behind, it was almost amazing how much of her skin was covered in gauze and tape. The lacerations must have run her entire back, or Crowe had been extra generous with its application. Given how soft-hearted he’d been about this girl, it wasn’t hard to believe.

Her legs weren’t bandaged. Instead, the pale skin peeking out of the boxers was striped with angry red streaks, but it didn’t look like they’d broken the skin beyond a few shallow nicks.

“Brace the counter. I don’t need you wiggling around, making things harder than they need to be.”

She gave an impetuous sigh, then slid her fingers along the edge of the marble. At the same time, she leaned forward, ass popping toward me in invitation. The boxers Crowe had given her barely hung on her hips, dropping low enough to see two of the sweetest dimples at the base of her spine. I ran my thumb over my lower lip contemplatively, imagining how pliant that skin would be beneath my hands.

“Look who decided to let her good girl show. Apparently, youcanfollow orders after all.”

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