“Yes, so I’ve been told.” I reached up and touched my forehead, but it seemed like the sticky cut had already begun to clot. My fingers came away with old blood.
“Maybe I should go to the hospital. I took a couple of hits to the head.” PD trembled on his stool, and I felt terrible for him.
“I’ll drive you,” I said before I could stop myself. It was an unfortunate habit of mine to want to rescue people. Madden from the boredom of riches. West from that terrible fucking law firm he had worked for that barely paid him. King from himself. And most recently, Officer Paxton from… well, the cops. Between PD looking fucking pitiful when he was normally like a shaken barrel full of monkeys, and the memory of Paxton all wounded and panicky…. Well, it was no wonder I ended up taking PD to the emergency room at Walnut Creek Hospital via a fast-food drive-through.
“Call if you need anything,” I said to him, and he nodded, pain still etched on his face, along with a new blossoming black eye. “Barnes is a fucker. If King doesn’t pay your fine, I will.”
PD smiled at that. “You’re not even a full member, moneybags. You just ride with us sometimes.” He flicked the collar of my shirt and winked.
Shrugging, I stood there until a nurse came and led him away, and then I was at loose ends again. I stared at the cheap beige chairs littered around the room and then at my hands, and before I knew it, I had my phone pulled out of my pocket. I rode the wave of blasphemous feelings that bashed into me as I stood there and checked my FetLand messages, where there was a somewhat dismal local kink board.
There were two messages for me: one from a sixty-year-old man who claimed to be a Moroccan prince and wanted to meet me alone in a hotel room near the highway to beat and humiliate me—fucking risky. Second was a musclebound man wearing a short Sailor Moon dress and a ball restraint—that was the whole message, just that picture, and I couldn’t see his face.
Mulling over my weird fucking life, I got into the elevator thinking I might visit Grant upstairs in ICU if he was there and debated getting back to the prince. Honestly, I had trouble working up the right amount of fear for waking up in a bathtub full of ice with both kidneys missing, organ theft being the least of the horrors I could imagine a stranger committing on me when I was tied up and vulnerable. And besides, I would really fucking love a night of someone telling me how awful I was—sometimes it was good to have the negative self-talk reaffirmed. The sick pleasure of feeling that I was right all along as someone screamed at me for being terrible was a bizarre one, but I’d enjoyed it once or twice.
I clicked on his profile. He was older, but he had a torso shot in his pics and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He had abs and silver chest hair. I let out a shaky breath. Yes, that would be nice.
The prince it was.
I can be there in an hour. Have condoms. You’re using them.
Immediately he sent me an address and time to arrive, and I memorized it nearly at once. He wanted me there soon, and it was a hotel by the airport I’d used before. That prickle that had started up earlier when I saw how King looked at his slutty man of the night burned away in the pit of my stomach. I missed being wanted for real. My breath caught. I was not going to sob like a little bitch because no one wanted some fucking cuddle-wuddles after I blew them and let them use me.
The prince’s next message said,I have a hairbrush. I’ll beat you black and blue with it.
Not a very royal implement, but whatever made him hard.I’ll be there.
When I got to ICU Grant wasn’t around, so I just went back to the lobby again. The elevator doors opened, and I gaped as I blindly slipped my phone toward my pocket. Was tonight just the night for people flipping their shit? Paxton was near the lobby front desk, and he was… not yelling, exactly, but I had no trouble hearing him.
“You, missy, get whoever you need to get on the phone, and you tell them I’m going to see my bloody husband’s body. The detectives said he’s here, in the morgue, and I’m going to see him or else.” Paxton leaned down to rest his hands on the desk, and I appreciated his straining round shoulder muscles in a way that had me licking my lips. Fuck-inghellhe was ripped. The overhead lights gleamed on his blond hair.
“You know, if he’s been released, you technically own the corpse, right?” I called and strode across the room toward him. “You could toss it in the back of your truck right now. They’ll lie to you and tell you all sorts of things, but he’s yours.” People turned to look at me, and the girl at the information desk gave a full body shudder of revulsion that matched the horrified wrinkle of her nose and curl of her lip. She was cute, with big eyes and red hair and freckles, and she had the glazed look of someone in shitwayover their head.
I walked over to stand beside Paxton, and he straightened abruptly, swaying a bit. His golden hair was clean, in spite of his obvious grief, and his stormy blue eyes were… well, they were bloodshot. That was interesting, and I’d definitely been there. Drinking away the worries… or grief. I didn’t want to care about Paxton. Caring got me fucked over, nearly universally. But I ignored the cynical little voice in my head that called me stupid, and I put a hand on his shoulder and helped steady him.
“River Demchenko,” I barked at the girl. “And I’m Officer Paxton’s attorney.” I smiled at her.
“Uh, I’ll call… I’ll call someone,” she said with a squeak, and bent over the phone on the desk in front of her. While she pushed buttons frantically, I shook my head at Paxton when he met my eye.
“Don’t take shit from these people.” I didn’t bother lowering my voice, and the girl frowned at me.
“I’m not.”
“You were. If they’ve got you yelling, you’re definitely taking shit. State what you want firmly. Never yell.”
Paxton crossed his arms over his muscled chest, and I swallowed hard at the way he filled out his uniform shirt. He looked fucking good… and he was also in mourning. Which was not good. “I’m a cop,” he said sharply, snapping me out of my mental wandering. “I know how to soothe people.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Listen, I do!” He was getting loud again, and I eyed the security guards prowling near the entrance, but they seemed to be holding steady for the moment. Maybe they were afraid of taking on a cop when they were only pretend cops.
“Listen to me,” he said and snagged my chin.
Stiffening, I didn’t decide to let him move me around, so much as I nearly melted when he forced my face toward him.Fuck.
Paxton seemed to realize he’d done something that rattled me because he let go immediately. “I need to see his body.”
My heart hurt, plain and simple. This man cared so much about his husband, who was gone. It was sad and beautiful and made me feel weird, and I didn’t like that. “You’ll get to.” I glared at the girl working the desk, and she gave me a too bright smile.
