“Why are you so afraid of me? I haven’t hurt you, and I don’t plan to.”
She snickers. “Yeah, you haven’t hurt me. You let others do the dirty work.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about when you sold me to your dirty little friend!”
I blink back at Fiona, stunned.
“Now let me go!”
“You’re not leaving this apartment without me tending to your wounds.”
“Will you let me leave after?”
“Probably not.”
“You fucking bastard!”
I exhale a long breath, trying to figure out what the hell she’s talking about. Maybe she mistook me for someone else? Or perhaps when she hit her head, it damaged her memory.
Either way, I didn’t sell her to anyone. I’ve done a lot of nasty shit, joyfully, but I don’t peddle flesh.
“Your wounds will get infected if I don’t treat them.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will. Trust me.”
“Why should I ever trust you?”
“Because all I did was help you. Not that I’d wanted to. It was an unintentional consequence of my predilection.”
“I’m sorry, but that just went over my public school educated head.”
“I think the head wound you suffered is causing you confusion.”
“No, I’m seriously not that smart. I have no idea what pred-a-lect-whatever-it-is means.”
“Not that. You’d accused me of selling you to a friend of mine, which I’ve never done. Not only do I not have friends, but I’d have no reason to sell you.”
“Bullshit!”
“I took you from a brothel; I didn’t put you in one.”
She looks at me skeptically, which I find grossly annoying.
“The last time I saw you, you were asleep in one of the safe houses around the city. I left to clear my head and put down a few ragers, and when I came back, you were gone.”
“Your friend told me you sent him.”
“What friend?”
“His name was Caspian.”
Deep inside me, a feeling close to rage stirs. It’s not that I have feelings for the girl, but I absolutely loathe being tricked.
“Tell me about your interaction with him.”
