A light clicks on, and I get a clear look atherface.
“Liv?”
“Hey, Damon.” She smirks down at me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Get ’em up,” she says to someone, and I’m suddenly ripped off the floor.
Whoa. What the fuck is happening right now? “This is Knuckles,” she introduces me to the very tall, very muscled, very scary black man with gold hoop earring who is currently dangling me by my cut.
“Nice to meet you.” I stare up into his dark, flat eyes. He only thrusts his chin at me in response. “Liv, what the fuck is going on?”
“Sit down, Damon. We need to talk.” Knuckles lets go of me, and I’m wobbly on my feet. I’m pretty sure I have a concussion.
“You okay there?” Liv helps to steady me.
“Sure. I get my head knocked into walls every damn day.” I put my arm around her.
“Can you get him some ice?” She directs her question to Knuckles. He nods with no verbal response again, kicking my pathetic dinner of chips and booze out of the doorway way as he goes.
“Does he do everything you say?” Liv guides me over to the bed, and we both plop down.
“When I’m paying him, he does. He’s an old friend of my dad’s.”
“Looks like someone the Bowman would know,” I remark as I rest my aching head in my hands.
“Sorry about the roughhousing. He can get a little carried away sometimes.” Liv shoots into the bathroom to grab a washcloth.
“Nah,” I refute sarcastically, my brain throbbing in my skull. “What the hell are you doing here, Liv? How the fuck did you even find me?” I ask, confounded, accepting the cloth she’s offering me. It feels like I’m using a piece of sandpaper as I wipe the blood away
“It seems we have a mutual acquaintance” — she sits, placing her hands on her knees with a perturbed expression — “and Knuckles tracked your cell phone for me.”
Of course. Who’s anonymous anymore?
“Acquaintance?” I repeat, noticing the red marks around her wrists. Then I realize. “Pony”
Liv raises her eyebrows likebingo.
“Did he hurt you?” I grab her hand and inspect the angry abrasions. A streak of anger setting my esophagus on fire.
“No. That was the worst of it, and it was mostly self-inflicted. I get a little ornery when I’m forced against my will.”
“Yeah, well, who doesn’t?”
Knuckles barges into the room with a bucket of ice, causing Liv to pull away from me. She scoots over and then stands up, taking the bucket from Knuckles. Impeccable timing, he has.
Disappearing into the bathroom, Liv returns with a hand towel this time. Setting some ice inside it, she creates a makeshift ice pack. “Where does it hurt?” she asks.
I gaze up at her. “Everywhere.” And it’s the truth. Everywhere hurts — my head, my face, my heart. I’m a fucking wreck, and I have no idea what to do with myself.
Together, we are under the worst circumstances possible, but selfishly, I’m glad she’s here.
“So, what happened?” I take the ice pack and lean back so we can talk.
“I was kidnapped,” she’s painfully straightforward.
“What?” I nearly hit the ceiling.
