Rogue (Dead Man's Ink, #2)(18)
“Rebel? Rebel, man, open up!” a gruff voice hisses. I can tell by the sharp tone of the male voice on the other side of the door that it’s Cade, and that he’s also super pissed. “Rebel, open the f*cking door.”
“All right, already,” I hiss back. Despite the low light coming from a lamp on the other side of the room, I still manage to stub my toe as I hurry across the room to get the door. My foot is throbbing and my heart is beating out of my chest when I open up, glaring at the two dark figures lurking on the porch. Not just Cade, then—Carnie, too.
“Is he okay?” Cade asks briskly.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” I reply. “He’s out cold.” Carnie gives me a none too subtle once over, his eyes raking over my bare legs, and it’s with a considerable horror that I realize I’m not even wearing any underwear. He can’t see anything, but I still suddenly feel very naked. Cade gives Carnie a pointed look, clearing his throat, at which point the other man looks away, eyes to the sky.
“We need to come in,” Cade tells me. “It’s important.”
“I gathered, since you were trying to knock the damn door down.” I pluck at the t-shirt, trying to pull it down some more as I move aside to let them in. I close the door behind them and Cade beelines straight for the bed where Rebel is still passed out on his back, a very thin sheet barely covering his naked form. Cade clears his throat, scratching at his jaw. He seems to think about how to proceed before grabbing hold of his friend and shaking him hard enough to make his head bounce off the pillow.
Rebel is instantly awake, eyes wide, fist pulling back as he readies to punch Cade. “What the f*ck?” he snaps.
“No time for pleasantries,” Cade says. “Can you walk?”
Rebel inhales, pulling a deep breath into his lungs. He glances between the three of us, and then nods, resting his hand over his injured side. “I might be able to if you quit shaking the shit out of me, man. What’s going on?”
“We got a problem,” Carnie says softly. “A big one. You need to see.”
Cade grunts. “You need help getting dressed?”
Rebel shakes his head. “Give me a beat. I’ll be out in a second.”
Cade and Carnie leave without saying another word, both of them wearing grim, frightening expressions on their faces. I’ve never seen either of them look so angry. Cade’s always polite with me, well mostly, anyway, and yet it’s like he doesn’t even see me as he exits the cabin. I don’t know why, but a sense of intense foreboding settles over me. Something really awful has happened. Something beyond comprehension. Something I probably don’t want to know about. A wave of panic sings through my veins—panic not for myself, but for Rebel. He’s nowhere near fully recovered, and knowing his luck he’s probably about to be shoved head-first into a really dangerous situation again.
Slowly, he heaves himself into a sitting position, pressing his hand into his side, wincing in pain. His beautiful body is in bad shape, black and blue, his bruises visible even against the complex, dark background of his extensive tattoos.
“Are you sure you should be moving about?” I ask. “Shouldn’t you be resting for a couple more days at least before you head off on some wild goose chase in the early hours of the morning?”
“If Cade comes in here looking like he just did, it means something important requires my attention. He wouldn’t ask me to come if it wasn’t entirely necessary. So yeah, I have to go.”
“Couldn’t he just tell you what the hell has happened?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Sophia, Cade is not that wordy. He’s more of a show than a tell guy.” He winks, groaning as he carefully gets to his feet. I want to give him more morphine, but I get he still has a huge supply of the drug coursing through his circulatory system. More at this point could kill him. Dad used to tell me about that all the time—people who overdose on painkillers, both unintentionally and intentionally, and slip away without even so much as a by-your-leave. It happens so easily. They’re dangerous things, painkillers. And highly addictive to boot.
“You feel like passing me a pair of jeans?” Rebel jerks his head toward his closet, brow furrowed in pain. “I think you’ll get there quicker than me.”
I open up the door to his closet to find the most immaculately organized walk-in I’ve ever seen. T-shirts, shirts, belts, shoes—everything is placed and folded just so. Puts my room back on campus to shame. I like to think of my room as organized chaos, but the truth is it’s actually just chaos. I grab a pair of jeans, boxers and a t-shirt for him, and then I watch as he fights his way into his clothes. I’m about to ask him if he needs me to help him at one point but he holds his hand up as soon as I take a step toward him. The look he shoots me could freeze over hell. Eventually, after a good ten minutes of swearing under his breath, he’s fully dressed. I can tell the effort has cost him a lot, though. His face is pale, his forehead lightly speckled with sweat, and he doesn’t seem that steady on his feet.
“Are you coming?” Cade calls through the closed door.
“Jesus wept, man! I have a f*cking hole in my side,” Rebel yells back. He starts to cross the room and I quickly snatch up my own jeans, kicking them on in record time.
Rebel gives me a curious look, arching an eyebrow at me. “Where do you think you’re going?”