The pile of clothes on the floor is distinctly red-tinged now that the lamp light hits it.
“On the back of my shoulder, Kyra.” He tries to point to the site, but his brawn makes it hard to get his arm across his body. “Is there a hole?”
“Hold on.” I dash over, collect my phone from the side table, and switch on the torch.
Yes, I have overhead lights, but no, I haven’t bought new, brighter bulbs yet.
I shine the light on his skin, searching amongst the blood for what he said. Sure enough, near the outside of his arm is a small hole, steadily bubbling blood that adds to the mess running down the back of his bicep. “Yes.” I set the phone down and retrieve a clean cloth. “There is.”
“Good.” Jinx leans on the edge of the counter, head hung as he sighs.
“I never trained in first aid,” I confess, switching the lever so the tap runs warm. “Other than pack the hole, I don’t really know what you’re supposed to do.”
“Apply pressure.” His words are tired. Resigned.
“What else did you find?” I ask quietly, bringing the freshly squeezed out cloth to his skin.
He stays quiet for a while as I clean the area. “I didn’t see anything, but Fang said there was a girl who’d passed away down there.”
The seventh.“Down where?” I rinse his blood from the cloth.
“In the cellar.”
He lets me clean in silence again while we likely both process the reality of the situation. Not only does a rival club traffic women through our state, but they do it in a way that costs lives. My heart aches for the poor woman. What happened to her to end up in their possession? Why did she pass away?
How many more like her are there?
“I probably should have sorted this out before I came over,” Jinx mumbles.
“You can get it sorted properly when you get back,” I tell him. “I’m glad you came here to tell me what you found. Thank you.”
His hand covers the one I have resting on his arm as I work. “I want you to come back with me. To see them.” He meets my eye. “You deserve to know the people you helped.”
I draw a deep breath and look back at his injury. “I did next to nothing. You’re the hero.”
“I’m not a hero, Kyra,” he grumbles. “Don’t go getting yourself confused about that.”
I don’t think I’m the one confused.
“There.” I toss the bloody cloth in the sink and shut off the tap. “The area’s clean, but I don’t have anything to dress it.”
Jinx bends to retrieve his T-shirt and tears off a few strips. “You got scissors?”
“Yeah.”
“Cut some smaller squares off one of these to pack the wound.”
“But it’s not clean.”
“It’s cleaner than continuing to lose my blood everywhere,” he counters.
Fine.I do as he instructs and snip small squares that I then press begrudgingly into the wound site as he hisses in pain, before wrapping his upper arm and shoulder with tight bands of fabric.
“Do you go to the emergency room to get this seen to?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Or do you have a vet on the payroll who does it on the sly?”
He smirks at my question. “We have doctors who need the extra cash off the books.”
“Right.” I take a step back, unsure what to do next.
