Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“And what are we?” I ask her, narrowing my eyes.
Her jaw tenses, but she shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. I think she just called me a bag of dicks. And I’m not really sure what kind of insult that is.
“You’re not expendable, or I’d happily place you in the line of fire instead of working on my bug-out plan to keep you safe.”
“That’s because of Sarah,” I remind her. “You wanted to hire us at one time. For the same thing this crew just died for.”
She groans. “No. I wanted to hire you for security, jackass. I was still working on who was going to do my grunt work when Sarah stepped in. And even so, I didn’t know you then. I just wanted to sit on your face.”
Just when I think she can’t possibly stun me silent again, she proves me wrong. It’s like she’s a bag of zigs and zags, and I prepare for a zag, only to get hit with a zig, which has me reworking my words and looking like a complete fucking moron much too often.
She grins and winks. “Don’t worry. I still want to sit on your face. I’m on birth control, by the way. Thanks for asking before deciding to get off inside me.”
This time, I roll my eyes. “I know you’re on birth control. I see you take the pill, and I’ve seen the cartridge on the nightstand multiple times.”
Her grin grows. “Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe you are interested in learning something about me. Might want to ask me if I’m clean or not.”
“Let’s skip health class,” I say. Before she can come back with another crazy remark to knock us off subject, I add, “So the guys meant nothing to you. What’s with the dancing? Or the spaz attack? Or whatever that was supposed to be, mixed in with the paint-peeling squealing you were doing.”
“Axl Rose, did you just make a joke?” she gasps.
“Do not call me Axl Rose,” I bite out, to which she grins.
“That name story would have been so much better if the nurse had been listening to Guns and Roses and Axl Rose popped into her head.”
“Different spelling, and completely…fucking stupid.” There’s sure as hell no pity in her eyes. Which is a relief, but also worrisome…again. Sociopath is definitely on the table. “What’s with the spaz attack?”
“Not enough room for me to skate, and I didn’t feel like skating around the bearded assholes downstairs, so I decided to destress this way.”
“By shaking violently and screaming lyrics?” I ask dryly.
“Not all of us can just sit around and turn sour over all of life’s little fucked up disappointments. Shit happens. This is my coping mechanism. Trust me, there’s not enough room in here for us both to brood.”
She gestures around the small-ish room, and I…I have no idea what to do with her. Still.
“Talk about the boyfriend you had tortured and executed,” I say with no preamble, and mentally curse myself for the brash way it comes out.
I’m usually not the one who has to do the talking. That’s Drex’s role. I just hit people. Maybe shoot them. Sometimes kidnap them to get beaten up. Or killed. In short, I’m the muscle. Drex is the talker. And, God help us, he’s usually the brain, too. Which means a lot of people get fucked up a lot of the time.
Fortunately, I’m cool with that. Helps get the anger issues under control when you have a viable candidate to beat down.
It takes me a second to realize Maya has gone stiff. Her eyes are cold and flat, and there’s zero expression on her face. It’s eerie, mostly because her face is too expressional…normally.
“Tell me how you got those gnarly scars,” she deadpans, not an ounce of anything in her tone.
My eyes narrow, but her expression doesn’t change.
“Why the fuck would I do that? And why are you asking that right this second?”
She cocks her head, and that’s when I see something I wasn’t expecting.
She’s not a sociopath.
Tears are in her eyes.
“Until you’re ready to talk about your scars, you have no right to ask about mine. I’m not sure where you dug up that information, but it’s not fair to pull my pain out of a box when you keep yours locked away. I don’t dig up your information, and I easily could.”
It’s like I can’t do anything right. And I swear I’ve swallowed more than my foot, because I actually feel like shit.
She’s the first person to make me feel that way. Guilt is an emotion I haven’t experienced since I was a child…until she came in like a hurricane.
She turns around, and I hear her taking deep breaths, like she’s trying not to cry. I make a mental note to punch Drex in the mouth, since I decide to blame this mess on him. After all, he’s the one who told me that.