Marlowe doesn’t take her eyes off me, doesn’t even blink.
I haul Zero’s body up and position myself under his arm like he’s nothing but a drunk friend I’m picking up off the curb. And I throw him in the back of the SUV.
The slam of the trunk echoes across the quiet street. A coyote cries out in the distance.
Marlowe opens the door and I slide in next to her. Neve climbs over the middle console and drops into the passenger seat, breathless and shaking, but already giving Bridger directions on where to go.
Bridger’s hands are white-knuckled on the wheel, eyes scanning the road like he’s waiting for the next attack. Neve glances at him, just once, her expression softening for a split second before she turns away again. I watch the look. The way she leans just slightly toward him, the way her voice lowers when she says his name. Bridger doesn’t notice. Or maybe he’s pretending not to. I wonder when the hell he’ll finally open his eyes and see it—see her.
It’s not my business. What do I know about relationships anyway?
I suck in a sharp breath and lean against the door. Pain flares through my side, hot and grinding. The movement pulls at the wound like it’s trying to tear me in half. I turn to Marlowe and she’s staring at me. Mouth parted, chest rising and falling way too fast.
Then her gaze drops off, past me, toward the back of the SUV. At what I just did. At what I just put back there. Her eyes flick back to mine. Her voice comes out quiet, flat. “Is that… another dead body?”
I don’t answer at first. Just hold her stare. Let her see it. Then I nod once. “Yeah. I warned you, didn’t I?”
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Marlowe shifts beside me, her hands still trembling as she pushes the bag across the seat. “Here’s the money,” she says. “There should be more in there than there was before.”
More?
I frown and drag my gaze to the bag, blinking against the pounding in my head. “More?” I echo.
She blinks, as if the question surprised her. “I… I won,” she says. “A few games. About eight hundred thousand. It would have been more but I had to give some away to Pearl Necklace to help us get out of there.”
My brain doesn’t process it right away.
She won. Eight hundred grand? In one afternoon? With a pearl necklace? My head swims, not just from the shock but from the way the pain’s been building, pushing up through my spine, wrapping around my ribs like wire. I’m vaguely aware of my body leaning too hard against the door, my fingers twitching, too numb to hold anything. “Are you serious?” I ask, staring at her like she’s from another planet.
She nods. Then her eyes shift, drop to my shirt, and go wide. “You’re bleeding,” she gasps. “Oh my god, Damian!” Panic overtakes her. She lunges at me, her hands flying to my side, lifting the hem of my shirt. Her fingers are shaking as they press into my skin.
She’s getting my blood all over her.
“Bridger!” she yells, her voice tearing through the SUV. Damian’s bleeding. He’s not okay. He’s?—”
Her voice echoes strangely in my ears, distorted and far away. The world around me tilts, the edges darkening. I blink slowly, trying to focus on her face, her hands pressing into my ribs, her hair sticking to her cheek. She brushes it back with the back of her hand, and my blood smears across her skin. It’s on her cheek. Smudged across her forehead.
Her eyes lock on mine. Maybe I’m dying. Maybe it’s just the shock. But I can’t stop staring at her. She’s trying to hold me together and I’m falling apart, and she’s covered in my blood.
And she’s so fucking beautiful.
“Lo,” I breathe. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Everything fades to black.
Chapter Thirty-One
MARLOWE
Ipress down on the wound with all my strength, my hands soaked and slick with his blood. I’m kneeling over him in the backseat, my knees digging into his thick thighs, my arms shaking from the effort.
He doesn’t move. His eyes are shut, face pale, lips tinged gray.
“Come on,” I whisper, voice cracking. “Damian, stay with me. Please.”
He stays silent.
I adjust my grip and press harder, trying to remember anything I’ve ever learned about how to stop bleeding, which is abso-fucking-lutely nothing. My adrenaline is spiking so high it’s making me nauseous. “Go faster!” I yell at Bridger. “We have to get him to a hospital. He’s losing too much blood!”
