Now Steel knew he wasn't the only one desperate to make amends in some small manner. Not that their little captive would ever believe that.
“You get the cream,” Steel growled. Flicking his gaze up to the dribbles of blood streaking her arms from where the plastic zip ties were cutting into her skin, he clenched his teeth as he tried to drag in a calming breath. “For your wrists as well.”
“Fine,” Rose huffed like she found them all to be interminably irritating. “But I’ll do it myself.”
“You won't be able to reach the wounds on your … ah … butt,” Voodoo finished lamely, his gaze refusing to land on Rose, who actually chuckled.
“I manage well enough, no need to worry about me,” she told him. Something in the way she said the words made it clear without her having to say it, that she was well used to caring for herself and didn't expect that anyone would ever worry about her.
Only Steel was finding that he did.
This was supposed to be an easy way to get to the man they all craved revenge on. Rose was supposed to be just a tool to use along the way and then throw away when they were finished with her.
But it wasn't.
It had become a whole lot more complicated, and he had no idea how he was supposed to deal with that.
December 26th
9:59 A.M.
“You're not tending to your own wounds,” Mr. Bedroom Man growled at her like the idea was offensive to him.
Which was crazy.
After all, he’d abducted her and planned this all out. She was his prisoner, and he’d used her like he always intended to.
“You are aware that they’re woundsyouinflicted,” she reminded him. Probably not her smartest idea, but then again, Rose had always regretted never standing up to her brother.
Sure, she’d done things her way, refused to cry when she knew it was what he wanted, bitten down on screams thatwanted to escape because she knew he craved them, and been purposefully obtuse at chemistry and biology since she knew it was what he wanted her to study. All of that had infuriated her brother, but she’d never actually told him to go to hell, and she’d always wished she’d done it.
Now was her chance not to be the silent little victim.
They didn't care about her, they were just more people who wanted to use her. Story of her life, and she wanted to be the author of that story and not a passenger along for the ride.
Mr. Bedroom Man’s mouth tightened into a line, and there was a flash of pain in his eyes. Which again made absolutely no sense. This was what he wanted.
Was there any chance he was having second thoughts?
Could she use that to her advantage?
“We fix what we break,” he snapped, then nodded at one of the other men dressed all in black. It was the one who had been concerned that she wouldn't be able to reach the wounds from the whip they’d inflicted on her skin.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the first time she’d been whipped, and she knew she was in for a sucky time for the next couple of days. The placement of the wounds along her backside would make any attempt at sitting or lying down hellish. Hopefully, they weren't like Ridge and didn't get some sort of sick pleasure from tearing up the skin on her butt, then forcing her to sit on it.
Agony.
There was no other way to describe it.
Only the impression she got from these huge men that surrounded her was that they were deriving no pleasure from this entire ordeal.
It was clear Mr. Bedroom Man was the boss because at his nod, the other man moved, disappearing from her view for a moment before returning with two small pills in his hand.
If they thought she was going to swallow them, they were crazy.
“You're going to be a brat about this, aren't you?” Mr. Bedroom Man asked, sounding as close to amused as she could guess he ever sounded.
“I don’t think it can be classified as being a brat not to take drugs from the people currently holding you captive,” Rose said primly. No way was she going to allow them to give her anything.
