I felt small hands touching my face as the blanket was drawn up to my chin. I was dimly aware of Lucy’s quiet cries, but I was riding the edge of consciousness so I couldn’t find the strength to respond.
“Ethan, what’s my name?”
I wanted to laugh, but I knew no sound came out. I knew her name. Why was she asking me that?
“Ethan, please, tell me my name.”
I forced my eyes open and saw Lucy had moved so she was kneeling on the bed next to me.
“Lucy Palmer,” I said tiredly.
“What day of the week is it?”
Thatrequired more thought. We’d arrived on a Wednesday…the same day Eric had once again found us.
God, was that just yesterday?
“Thursday?” I asked, hating how muddled my head felt and trying to remind myself that we didn’t have time for this – we needed to run, damn it.
“Lucy,” I heard the man’s voice call and I managed to open my one good eye long enough to see that he was once again standing in the doorway, a glass of water in one hand and a plastic container in the other. “Go get some rest,” the man said as he entered. Lucy was clutching my hand, which was one of the few parts of my body thatdidn’t actually throb with pain and I couldn’t help but tighten my fingers around hers. I wanted to tell her to run as soon as she got the chance, but I knew she wouldn’t. She’d never leave me behind.
“Lucy,” I tried vainly to say, but my tongue felt thick in my mouth.
Lucy stood and then leaned over me to kiss me on the forehead. “I don’t think he wants to hurt us, Ethan,” she whispered. “Do you want me to stay?”
I managed to focus long enough to notice how gaunt and pale she looked and guilt went through me as I realized she probably hadn’t gotten any rest since we’d fled the house near Cougar Mountain the day before.
“No, go lie down,” I managed to get out. “I’ll be okay.”
She nodded and then kissed me again. “Love you,” she murmured against my forehead.
“Right back atcha, Kiddo.”
She smiled at that because she hated when I called her that, even though she really didn’t. She held my hand for several long seconds before releasing me and turning to leave the room. Her eyes shifted briefly to the man, but she didn’t seem afraid of him, despite what had happened outside. I couldn’t say the same since I could still feel the barrel of his gun pressed against my forehead. Yeah, I’d had a weak moment when I’d actually wanted him to pull the trigger, but I hadn’t really meant it…not deep down where that untouchable need to survive still lived.
I watched as the man approached me. “Can you sit up a bit?” he asked, his voice raspy. I was surprised at the tingle that shot down my spine as he stood over me. It was an unwelcome feeling since this man scared the hell out of me. Not to mention that damn tingle had been what had led me eagerly down the path to hell four years ago.
I nodded even as pain shot through my head and body. I tried to use my hands to lever myself up enough so I could lean against the headboard, but it felt like cement was running through my veins. My gut clenched when the man suddenly sat down on the bed next to me, his ass brushing my side through the blanket. I nearly bit mytongue in two when his big arm suddenly wrapped around my chest and he lifted me to a sitting position. I was so stunned by the move, that the pain in my ribs was secondary to everything else.
The man had lifted me like I weighed nothing and he’d managed to do it in a way that had only caused a dull throb to skitter across my torso. The fact that he’d done his best not to hurt me further was lost on me because all I could focus on was his strength and the damage it could inflict on me if I did or said something to anger him.
And I knew it wouldn’t take much.
It never did.
The man handed me the glass of water. “Rinse and spit into this,” he said as he held up the plastic container. I did as I was told because I was good at that and also because I really wanted the vile taste of puke out of my mouth. I rinsed a couple times for good measure and tried to put the glass and the container on the nightstand, but the man took them from me and placed them there himself.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
I found myself struggling to answer because all I could do was focus on his left hand which was fisted.
Fine…tell him you’re fine.
But my voice failed me. What if “fine” wasn’t what he wanted to hear? One blow and I’d be out for sure. And then Lucy would be alone with him.
Except if I didn’t answer him, maybe that would piss him off too.
Fuck, at least with Eric I knew how to react. I wanted to laugh at the realization that my ex might actually be the lesser of two evils at the moment. But all it took was the memory of his weight on top of me yesterday as I’d begged for mercy and the sensation of my life leaving my body as his big hands had wrapped around my throat.
