The guy’s wild eyes darted past Cruz. “Who the fuck are you?”
Cruz aimed his weapon. “Unless I ask you a question, shut the fuck up.”
“Are you a cop?”
Cruz cocked his head. “Do I look like a cop?”
“No.” Heroin must have made him stupid. The guy lifted his shirt and pulled his gun.
Bang!
I jolted. My ears rang with the blast. Blood sprayed the bathroom wall. The guy lurched from the impact, and he dropped to the ground with a gaping hole in his chest. The sharp and pungent odor of gunfire blended with the acrid stench of piss and blood.
Cruz was here.
For a moment, my mind tried to make sense of what just happened. Cruz had a gun. Jesus. He pulled the trigger. The guy was fucking dead.
Cruz hollered into the hall behind him. “Romeo! Dozer!”
Romeo appeared in the doorway. “Fucking hell.” He vaulted over the dead guy and stepped into the tub with me. “Ryatt. Fuck. What have they done to you?”
Nothing good.I wanted to speak, but my mouth wasn’t getting the message from my brain.
With the knife from his belt, Romeo sliced through the zip ties, and my weight sagged against him. “I’ve got you.”
I hissed and groaned as my arms dropped to my side, pain flaring hot through my limbs.
“Let me help you.” Romeo’s arms wrapped around my waist as he lowered me to the bottom of the filthy tub.
“I pulled the fucking trigger. Fuck, Romeo. I killed him.”
Cruz and I were having the same mental conversation. Romeo on the other hand was assessing the situation as if a dude wasn’t bleeding out all over the floor.
“Good. Now he’s dead. Get Dozer.”
“Dozer,” he hollered as he set his gun on the counter. “I’m not leaving Ryatt. You go help Dozer.”
Romeo didn’t move. “You okay with Cruz?” he asked me.
My gaze shifted to Cruz, and I nodded.
Romeo stepped out of the tub. “I’ll find his clothes.”
Once he’d stepped over the side of the tub, he rushed out of the room, leaving us alone. Cruz climbed into the tub, sat on the edge, and carefully shifted me between his widespread thighs.
“Fuck, Rizz. I thought I was going to be too late.” He threaded his fingers through my hair, and part of me broke because I’d had the same concern. With a shuddering exhale, I leaned my face against his thigh and tears slipped from my closed eyes.
I didn’t have words, but I guess we didn’t need any. He was here. For whatever fucked up reason, he’d come for me.
“We don’t have long.” He stroked a hand over my head. “I’m going to turn on the shower. Can you stand?”
“I’ll try.” My throat burned with the words.
Cruz leaned forward and spun the spigot. The stench of urine overwhelmed, but Cruz didn’t leave me to clean up alone. He remained in the filth with me until the water ran warm, then he flipped the lever to direct the water to the showerhead.
I shifted to my knees. Cruz wrapped his arms around me and lifted. Needles of pain ripped along my limbs and surged into my legs. My knees buckled, but Cruz held me and, with my back to his chest, we stepped beneath the water.
The first shot of warmth took my breath. I lifted my face, parted my parched lips, and drank. More tearsfilled my eyes as the taste of bile flushed from my mouth. Rivulets of bloody water sluiced down my torso.
