Rules of Survival(7)

“Yeah. Nothing a couple aspirin won’t help.” That, from Shaun.

“You need to be more careful. I warned you beforehand. You didn’t listen,” Patrick mumbled. “You never listen.”

“I didn’t expect her to headbutt me!”

Hah. Damn right I did. I was proud of that moment. The surprise in those gorgeous hazel eyes was well worth the pounding in my head.

“That’s my point. That little girl back there learned from the best. She’s capable of anything. Don’t forget it.”

Except for the humming, there were a few minutes of silence—or maybe it just felt that way. Everything was hazy and numb. I was awake, but not really.

Something rattled. It sounded like a plastic bag. A minute later, there was crunching. Suddenly I was aware of how hungry I was. “So was she right? Did you know her mother?”

Their voices were getting lower. Moving farther away. I tried to cling to the waking world, desperate to hear his answer, but oblivion claimed me.

…

When I heard their voices next time, it was different. Louder and more clear. The humming and thumping noises were gone, replaced by an odd kind of silence that made me nervous.

“I’m meeting with one of his men at noon. This needs to be straightened out before we go any further,” Patrick growled.

There was a high-pitched squeak, and then footsteps. Muted. They were walking around on a soft surface. Probably a carpet. “You think Jaffe double-booked the job?”

“At first I thought so, but that wouldn’t explain the shooting. I was told this guy wanted the kid alive.”

Shaun snorted. The footsteps stopped. “Well, maybe he actually met her?”

Patrick clucked his tongue. “Watch it, kid. That’s how it starts—before you know—”

I willed my body to move. Cough. Twitch. Anything to keep conscious. But their words grew faint and I was being pulled away again.

…

The next time I woke up, I could actually feel my body—which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. My head ached, my wrists were sore, and my throat felt scratchy. That would teach me to scream like an idiot.

I took stock of everything, wiggling my fingers, toes, and neck in turn. Things seemed to be in working order. The only limb that felt slightly off was my left hand. The fingers were numb. Pins and needles like they were on the verge of falling asleep.

Everything was a little blurry at first when I opened my eyes. A mesh of watery colors and vaguely detailed shapes dancing circles in front of my face. I was lying on my back on a bed, but when I tried to roll over, something on my left side stopped me. “What the—”

“Hey, hey, hey—don’t pull. You’ll break it.” At first I thought he meant my arm, but then he added, “Don’t wanna lose the room deposit.”

I twisted to see Shaun standing over me, scowling. A chunk of hair fell into his eyes and he blew absently at it. “Where are we?”

The bed dipped as he sank down on the edge. “Hotel.”

The light coming in from the window was bright. Early morning. “How long have we been here?”

Shaun shrugged. “You’ve been asleep almost a day.”

“An entire day?” I cried. Not good.

I scanned the room. It seemed like it was just him and me. Good. That was one good thing. One less person to deal with meant a better chance at escape. “Patrick?”

“Had an errand to run. He’ll be back shortly.”

I twisted back around to my left side to see what the problem was, and let out a surprised yelp. They’d cuffed my arm to the headboard. Wait. Not cuffs, really. The chain was too long. Shackles. They’d used leg shackles!

“Pat wanted to leave the cuffs on,” Shaun said with a wink. “I convinced him these would be a little more comfortable. You can thank me later.”

Thank him later? I wanted to suggest we switch places—then he could tell me how comfortable this was—but decided that wasn’t the tack I needed to take. I batted my eyes, remembering his reaction to my crocodile tears, and put on my best helpless kitten expression. “My arm is really sore…do you think you could uncuff me for a few minutes?”

“Seriously? You just head bashed me and now you’re trying to play the femme fatale card?” He rolled his eyes and stood. “Do I look like I ride the short bus?”

Shit. “Please?” I tried again. I even forced a little smile. “Look, I’m scared, okay?”

He folded his arms. “No dice. I uncuff you and you bolt. Pat will skin me alive.”

“No. Really. I promise I’ll be good. I won’t try to run—”

“And I’m Satan.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I huffed, letting go of the charade.

Of course he wouldn’t buy it. Mom always said innocent was the one look I couldn’t pull off. I stretched my neck, tilting my head to the side. It was pounding.

“You knocked me out,” I complained. “My head is killing me. Got any aspirin?”

“Technically you knocked yourself out,” he replied with a laugh. It was a shame the guy was a dick. Besides being easy on the eyes, he had a great laugh. Infectious. It did funny things to my stomach. “And sorry, no aspirin. Patrick went to check things out. He seems like a hard-ass, but he’s a good guy. He won’t deliver you to Jaffe if he thinks the guy’s going to hurt you. Promise.”