Now I remember why I can’t open my mouth.
Christ.
Crane sewed my mouth closed.
Another few snips and the tightness eases. Thomas sits back on the heels of his feet and assesses his handiwork with a somber nod. A rush of air follows, flowing past my teeth. He sets aside the scissors, and I think about grabbing them to use as a weapon.Good luck with that.I can’t move, and we both know it.
Thomas reaches for a syringe, and my muscles tense in anticipation of more ket. “Antibiotic,” he says, then picks up another. “Morphine.”
I relax and ride the warm wave that comes after the pinch of the needle. Thomas is suddenly a distant face on a fading horizon. I try to mutter my thanks, but I can’t. Everything is fantastically fuzzy. In the haze, nothing matters. Yeah, I hurt, but who gives a shit? Not me. I’ll live to fight another day. I always live to fight another day.
I tell myselfone more. One more day. One more night. Hell, one more minute.
It’s how I keep surviving.
As many minutes as it takes to make it out of here. This place won’t beat me—and I won’t let it beat Jamie.
I want to tell Thomas that Crane threatened to kill her, but I can’t speak. All I can do is lie here and roll on the tide, thinking about the girl with the damaged soul who grew into a woman who never let a man touch her body. That’s what Crane said, right? I didn’t imagine that shit. It’s why he’s pissed enough to kill us both. Because he thinks she gave me what she’s refused him.
My drugged-up brain can’t wrap around the fact that Jamie’s a twenty-four-year-old virgin. Not in today’s world. Not someone from Mayhem. But she left Mayhem. God only knows what her life’s been like if marrying Crane was the least of all evils. I plan on living long enough to find the fuck out. But I can’t think about any of that right now because the wave is pulling me under. I close my eyes and float away on agony wrapped in bliss, unable to drown because a girl with captivating green eyes and soft pink lips keeps me afloat.
6
Jamie
Irun the perimeter of Gomorrah’s courtyard with the sting of David’s slap still raw in my mouth a day later. The evidence remains on my swollen lip and in the cryptic warning festering in my brain. He gave me Wraith, and now I have to give him a new beginning. If ever there was a time to run, it’s now because I can’t give him the wife he wants.
My past with my father left scars on my mind that wrecked me for years. By the time I worked through what he did and my actions that came after, I was already an adult. But as a teenager, I was the damaged girl with daddy issues all the boys thought would be an easy lay.Wrong. Then I was homeless, and people assumed I was a druggie who’d do anything for a fix.Also wrong. On the occasions when I had an apartment, I was too busy struggling to maintain a roof over my head to have a social life.
Then David came along and offered me what should have been an ideal arrangement. All the perks of marriage without the complication of intimacy. He wanted a wife for appearances sake. I needed shelter and a full stomach.Perfect. Unfortunately, I realized too late that my husband is a deranged piece of shit. One who is willing to kill to protect the secret of his sexual disability. If he eventhinksI’ll tell anyone of him impotency, he’ll do things to me that will make wish I was dead.
And now Wraith is caught up in my mess of a marriage.
Wraith, who is still as gorgeous as the day I last saw him in Mayhem. No, that’s not accurate. The years have treated him well. He’s matured into a work of art, his body sculpted, and his face chiseled to perfection. Even when he was spitting fire and fury at me and I was scared to death of him, my body came alive the moment he touched me. Every nerve sparked when he pinned me against that wall.
What does that say about me?
That I’m not the cold bitch I’ve tried to turn myself into, that’s what it says about me. That even after a lifetime of hiding behind a defensive wall, I can stillfeel.
As I begin the second lap of the perimeter, I ignore the armed guards roaming Gomorrah’s courtyard. They ignore me right back. I’ve accomplished my goal of becoming the invisible Mrs. Crane. But where they dismiss me, the cameras miss nothing. They see everything, watching me as I try in vain to outrun my demons.
I drown in the shadow of the Coliseum, heartsick, knowing Wraith is suffering inside of the red-brick building. But I shove the worry aside because now is the time for action. I’ve always had a talent for compartmentalizing, and currently, it’s working to keep me from losing my shit as I forge ahead to get us the hell out of here.
To keep my mind busy, I tick off what we need to gain our freedom.
Trizapam to slow Wraith’s vitals.
Thomas and Roger must be on duty.
Transportation to Mayhem.
But those three items alone won’t be enough. We need a perfect storm. A manufactured miracle and I do mental gymnastics trying to work the problem. First, there’s getting us out of Gomorrah. We need a distraction for that. With David in Miami, now would be the perfect moment. The problem is, we don’t have the means to get Wraith out of the dungeon or a way to get us to Mayhem. Public transportation is out—too many cameras along the way. Facial recognition is an issue. Anyone from Gomorrah who is sitting in the driver’s seat will be flagged. We need someone unrecognizable, and that limits our options given our resources and the time crunch.
But where these is a will, there is a way.
Always.
It’s just a matter of working the problem until we get it solved.
