“I get the bed,” I snap. Because he looks so concerned, I drop my voice, but his paranoia that we have spies around us won’t stop me from saying my piece. “You sleep on the floor.”
“Kid—”
I’m not done. Glaring at him, I say, “I don’t know what you’re thinking, telling Darryl that you want to share a room with me. Let’s get one thing clear. I’m not letting any of those creeps touch me. But you… if you’ve been biding your time and think that I’ll fuck you now to get out this mess, you’re wrong.” I dip my hand into Rory’s jacket, grateful I still have my pocketknife. I pull it out, flipping the switch that releases the blade. “Try touching me, cop. I’ll cut your fucking fingers off.”
A flash of pain dances across his weathered features, there and gone again as if my threat actually found a target. I trusted him, and he knew it, but now… he’s just another rogue.
His eyes fasten on the blade, the way it shines in the lamplight. He takes a deep breath, then sighs. “You have a knife.”
“And you’re a regular Sherlock fucking Holmes.”
He ignores my flippant comment. “Good. Hold onto it as long as you can.”
That’s exactly what I plan on doing.As long as you can… he mustn’t think that Darryl will let me keep it. Probably not his gun, either, if the leader of East Jersey has any idea it exists.
And my antidote… I can’t let him get his hands on my antidote.
Frustrated, I kick my pack under the bed for safe-keeping.
Maverick says nothing else as he lays the quilt on the floor, leaving his bedroll with his own pack.
I think about throwing him a pillow because the hardwood floor probably isn’t any more comfortable than sleeping on the ground outside. No. If he wants one, he can ask for it.
Once he’s done, he exhales roughly. “You don’t have anything to worry about from me.” Him, maybe, but the rest of East Jersey… “But this was the only way I could think to keep you safe from any unwanted guests. Darryl gave us tonight. If we keep our voices down, we can figure out our next move.”
“I know my next move,” I retort. “I’m getting the hell out of here as soon as I can.”
When he doesn’t agree with me, my insides twist. I’ve gotten used to Maverick avoiding my gaze as if eye contact is some kind of crime with him, but he’s usually more discreet about it. When he starts picking at his fingers before nibbling on the side of his thumb, even I can’t pretend that he isn’t purposely holding something back.
“I am… unless there’s something you know that I don’t.” I pause and, grabbing one of the pillows, squeeze it between my shaking hands. “Which there might be, because you’ve been here before. Right?”
“It’s not as easy as that?—”
Yes. It is.
“You knew Darryl. You knew him from his whistle, and then you tried to keep him from finding out I was a woman.” His desperation should’ve been my first warning sign. “You knew about the men here practicing their warped form of polygamy.” No denial there. He just looks away, and I take a shot in the dark. “You knew about the auction.”
His head snaps toward me and I have to resist the urge to fling my knife at him.
My eyes blaze in outright fury. “You set me up.”
“No.”
“You did. Is that why you were alone when you came to the Grave? You’d sold the last idiot who agreed to come along with you to Darryl and his boys, then you needed…” What was it Darryl called it? “... fresh meat? How much do they pay you for this?”
“It’s not like that, Xandra?—”
Oh? So now I’m Xandra?
“Tell me. I’m young. Strong.” I slap my side. “Got some birthing hips and a pussy they can use. I’ve got to be worth something.”
There’s that pained expression again. “You are. You’re a fierce hunter, and I never lied about why I needed volunteers. I’m going to New York. I’m taking out that nest. I need all the help I can get, and I would never work with Darryl.” His voice turns dark. “Never. I don’t agree with the shit he does here. I don’t have to. I just need to survive it. That’s what I am, Xandra. A survivor. That’s what you are, too.”
“Yeah? Say I believe you.” Please let me be able to believe him… “How do you expect me to survive this auction?”
Because I’ll kill myself before I be one of these men’s “wife”. With my knife or Maverick’s gun, I’ll take the easy way out.
No one owns me.
