“It’s yours.” Zeek bends down and picks it up, his hand running across his neck as if he just realized it was missing. I forgot I put it in my pocket. “I didn’t mean to break it,” I mutter, wiping the tears from my eyes. He palms it, his thumb rubbing it. It means something to him, I can tell with the way his forehead wrinkles, and his eyebrows pinch together.
“Just—Just get in the shower,” he mutters, pulling back the shower curtain.
“Why are you doing all this?”
A pensive look crosses his face. “All of what?”
“This!” I wave my hands around. “Holding that nice old couple at gunpoint, in here with me. All of it?”
His eyes rake over me, and he shrugs. “So you could shower.”
“So you kidnapped a little old couple so I could shower?”
“Yep!”
It’s wrong, so wrong. Yet, I feel my chest tighten with longing and adoration. I like it. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I can’t help my attraction to him. His stare is cold, his calloused hands rough, but his draw is soft and alluring.
“You going to get in?” He flicks a brow at me.
“Not with you,” I respond defensively.
“I’m not leaving you by yourself.” His tone tells me he’s not to be messed with.
“I need some time, Zeek.” I hang my head, wringing my hands tightly. “To process everything. I just—I’m not getting in that shower with you.” My heart beats passionately, it hurts me to hurt him. Which is stupid considering everything that’s happened.
His shoulders tense, his jaw ticking.
“Fine.”
He opens the door, and slams it shut.
Zeek
STEPPING OUT OF THE BATHROOM, I rub the back of my neck. Regret and shame spreading uncontrollably through my chest to the point I can’t breathe. I am losing my mind, my temper, my fucking handle on everything. My arms strain wanting to rip something to shreds. My arm smarts, the pain becoming almost unbearable. I really need to get a clean rag on it or something.
Leaning over the vanity just outside the bathroom, I undo the material I found from the truck, and blood begins to trickle out of the wound.
Clenching my teeth I hiss, and grab a clean rag, wetting it I dab at the blood around the wound.
I need to get that bullet out now.
Glancing around the room I don’t see anything that I could sterilize and stick far enough in there to get it out.
Best I can do is keep it closed, and clean for the time being. Snatching a folded towel off the counter I rip it long ways, and wrap it around my bicep a couple times. It hurts to the bone, causing my forehead to sweat from the amount of pain rippling up my shoulder. My skin at two extremes because it feels like a knife of ice cold on one side, and searing hot on the other slicing through my arm until it hits bone.
I need some fresh air, and some alone time.
Marching through the small hotel room, I check on the old man, and the bat shit crazy lady. They haven’t moved.
“Is everything okay?” The lady questions, her eyes worried.
“Yeah, everything is fine.” I rub at the back of my neck. The man’s face uneasy as I fist my gun. “I just wanted a place to stop and let her clean up, maybe get some sleep and we’ll be out of your hair.” Why am I comforting them? What the fuck is wrong with me? Jillian is in my fucking head!
His face lessons with worry as I explain, his wife cupping her face like I just told her an amazing fairytale.
“It’s like you’re Bonnie and Clyde,” she coos annoyingly.
“Oh, Jesus, Mildred.” Donald huffs, shaking his head while he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Uh, don’t they die in the end?” I raise a brow. She throws a hand at me as if it’s ridiculous. “Look, I’m just gonna step out for a few minutes. Don’t try anything stupid, and if she needs anything?” I start to say, but am cut off by Mildred.
“We’ll call for you right away,” she states cheerfully. This chick ain’t right.
Stepping outside I lean against the hotel door, slipping the cross to the missing rosary beads in my pocket. Jillian hates me. Every time I look at her, her gorgeous eyes are filled with tears of pure hatred, or maybe it’s fear.
Stretching my arm a little too much I hiss with pain.
Closing my eyes, I see Jillian’s face, her naked body underneath me and her beautiful smile beaming up at me. It’s a memory from one of the days we locked ourselves in her house. The day I realized I wasn’t just starting to care for Jillian, but fucking loved her. Her blonde hair splayed out from underneath her like a goddamn halo or some shit. I’d do anything to hide away with her in that little house again, where reality and judgment conjured outside the walls of my crazed obsession for her.
I miss her. The way she gave all of herself to me.
The smell of her hair.
The feel of her silky skin against mine.
I’m not about to give up on any of that. I will drag her across the states kicking and fucking screaming if I have to.