As if it would make the whole idea that there were drugs and no cops and happy accidents where murder was blamed on others… okay.
I had no idea how long I stared into the flames of the fire. It was long enough for the log to turn to char, long enough to feel the first bit of a chill inching into my bones.
“Get up.”
“What?” I shook my head then turned around. Sergio was towering over me, his face indifferent. “Are you serious right now?”
“Get. Off. Your. Ass.”
Terrified, I scrambled to my feet then was so overrun with anger at the situation, I slapped him across the face.
Which of course meant he was going to kill me, right?
Gasping, I stumbled backward.
Only, Sergio burst out laughing.
Hard.
Irritated, I lunged for him again, but this time he caught my wrists with his hands and set me aside. “Good to know that you won’t back down in a fight.”
“I…” Embarrassed, I looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he whispered. “Do it again.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
“Hit me.”
“I’m not going to hit you.”
“You’re a spoiled rotten little child, who’s a danger to herself and should be given her own curfew along with a glass of juice every damn night. Slap me.”
So I did.
He winced, then took a step back and rubbed his jaw, his fingertips tapping against the spot I’d just hit. “That’s good.”
“You were mean.”
“I’m always mean.”
Man had a point.
“Slapping is fine for girls.” Sergio crossed his arms. “But we need to teach you how to escape. Had I been two minutes later, had I hesitated and gone to the bathroom, grabbed a glass of water, answered my phone — we wouldn’t be having this conversation. So I’m going to teach you how to survive, and you’re not going to bitch about it, and you sure as hell aren’t going to cry. Got it?”
There was something terrifying about the way he spoke to me, about how he was able to get under my skin, but made it seem like the most normal thing in my world.
He made violence look easy.
He made it appear necessary.
He made me believe I needed it.
“Okay.” I nodded probably five times, trying to convince myself that agreeing with a guy who, about ten minutes ago, was snapping a dude’s neck, was a stellar idea.
“I’m going to come at you.” Sergio held out his hands. “I want you to fight me off. I don’t want you to worry about hurting me, believe me when I say, I’ve had the worst of the worst, so…” His smile mocked me. “Do your worst, little girl.”
He’d just called me “little girl.”
I wanted to stab him in the throat.
AH! Stupid effing mafia.
I couldn’t even say more than effing.
It made me blush.
If I had trouble cursing in my head, how was I supposed to attack… that?
I choked on my spit, trying to swallow and take a breath at the same time, then waited while he charged me.
His muscled arms grabbed my body, pinning mine to the side.
All I had were my legs.
So I stomped on his feet.
He didn’t even move.
So I kneed him in the balls. He dropped like a stone, his face stark white as a garbled sound squeaked past his tightly drawn lips.
Breath whooshed out as he made a gargled sound then yelled, “Fucking hell!” He touched his face. “What was that for?”
“You said you’ve had the worst of the worst!” I shot back. “And that I needed to escape!”
A pained laugh escaped. “I deserved that, I think.”
“You did.” I smiled proudly.
“Help me up?”
I took his outstretched hand, only to have him tug me down the floor and as he stretched out on top of me and whispered. “Survive.”
“That was a mean trick.”
“Necessary,” he murmured. “Because the minute I was down, you should have run like hell.”
“Oh, good idea. I’ll just run back upstairs to the room with the body in it! That seems like a really poor life choice.”
“It’s dead.” His eyes did that weird searching thing as he gazed down at me. “What could it possibly do to you?”
“Well…” I licked my lips. “Turn into a cocaine addicted zombie?”
“Nice imagination there, Val. Is it going to force you to do drugs too?”
“Yes,” I stammered. “And I listened in school during the drug talk thank you very much.”
“I bet you did.” He seemed to find humor in that as his lips twitched. “Straight A’s? And let me guess, you got one of those shiny certificates they give out for having perfect attendance.”
My cheeks burned.
“You’re blushing,” he pointed out. “So it must be true.”
I said nothing. What was there to say? He seemed to know everything already.
“Did you even go to prom?” He picked and prodded at every insecurity I had — swear.
“Can you get off of me now?”
I wasn’t sure what I’d said but he suddenly looked horrified and then smug.
“What? Why are you giving me that funny look?”
“Was I your first kiss?”