She leads me through into the bathroom, Rosa peeling off the moment Finley takes over applying pressure. I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear the back door close and lock.
“So, you’re trying to hire my flatmate to do unconscionable things, are you?”
I lean in the corner formed by the side of the shower and the vanity unit, peeling the towel away from my head. My stomach flips over, greasy at the sight of all the blood. I can taste it when I breathe in, the air thick with an iron tang.
“You aren’t fainting, are you? Only, fair warning. There’s no way I could catch you, so I won’t try.”
“I think I’m okay,” I say, the words barely audible through my clenched jaw. When I turn my head to the right, there’s a large patch of hair turned sandy with blood. “Hey. I’m a redhead.”
“Ugh. Don’t.” Finley takes the towel from my fingers and rinses it out in the sink, which soon looks like a budget version of the shower scene from Psycho, blood swirling down the drain.
“Do you have a phone handy?” I ask. “Whoever was in the back yard could still be hanging around.”
Rosa returns with ice and a container of wet wipes. “Best I can do,” she says to Finley’s raised eyebrows. “And are you serious? About there being someone out there?”
“Who else d’you think did this?”
“You could’ve tripped,” Finley supplies with glee. “It happens.”
“There was a figure.”
“A figure,” Rosa scoffs while her eyes flick around the room with nervous energy, tongue darting out to moisten her lips. “Excellent observation skills.”
“It’s dark out, all right? I tackled them but they kicked me in the head until they got away.”
“Really?” Finley’s mouth hangs open and her eyes cut across to Rosa.
She doesn’t return the gaze, though. Her eyes fix to my chest, staring in confusion. She wets her finger and touches it to my shirt, raising it for closer inspection.
“What is it?” Finley asks, sounding more freaked with each passing second.
“Nothing,” Rosa says, wiping her hand against her blouse and tipping the icetray into the sink. “Let’s get a look at this cut.”
CHAPTERNINE
ROSA
Trent staresat me across the dining room table, then repeats, “You can come home with me. There’s plenty of room. It’s not safe to stay here alone.”
“There are two of us,” I retort, thoughts still scrambled. “That’s hardly alone.”
“What size house is it you’re taking us to?” When I glare at her, Finley shrugs, “What? It’s an important consideration.”
“I can also get a guy down here to instal security cameras—”
“Oh? That’d be about right. I turn down your offer and next thing, you’re in my back yard fighting imaginary intruders and wanting to instal cameras for my safety.” I shake my head, puffing out a derogatory breath. “Nice try, Weybourne. Next time attempt it on someone who’ll fall for your bullshit.”
“Rosa!”
I crack my knuckles, folding my arms when the release doesn’t give me enough satisfaction. “What? You can’t seriously be thinking of going home with him. You only met him tonight.”
“Be like that.” Finley whips out her phone and starts scrolling through her messages, before composing a new one.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m texting Lily to see if she’ll vouch for him. I think you and I both know that she will, and I’ll show that to you, and you’ll have to come up with a genuine reason for not accepting his offer to take us home and lavish us with presents.”
My glare feels hot enough to burn as it leaves my head, but she appears immune.
