“Private,” Durkee said from his spot on the floor. “Don’t be rude to the lady.”
The soldier stared at him for a moment. His face betrayed no emotion, but I imagined him struggling somewhat—the ingrained effort to obey a longtime commander warring with the desire to tell him where to stick it.
The latter feeling won. “Shut your pie hole, prisoner.”
Durkee rolled his eyes and then looked back down at his cards. “Pie hole? Really?”
The soldier shoved me in front of him and began pushing me toward the door. My foot got tangled in a blanket left on the ground, and I nearly tripped over it, held up only by his grip around my bicep.
He yanked me again. “Stop dawdling.”
Hammond would never be okay with this level of assholery.
Should have stayed in Elderwood.
I heard Tony’s footsteps clattering after me. “Hey. Hey, you fucker, c’mere!”
He must have thrown himself at the man’s back; the soldier hitched forward slightly and crashed into me, letting out an annoyed grunt. Than he straightened up and spun around, and I heard the sound of metal against face.
I turned. Tony was on the floor, holding his head, and the soldier held a sidearm aloft.
Durkee and Gloria were on their feet instantly, the former striding toward us. I thought he might clock the soldier, or at least tackle him, make a break for it—
Instead he reached down and set a firm hand on Tony’s shoulder, possibly preventing him from leaping up and gouging the man’s eyes out.
“Not yet,” Durkee said. “Not yet, man.”
The soldier held his gun up. “Want another bash, man? I can crack your head open real easy with this.”
Tony stared up at him.
Durkee tightened his grip on his shoulder. “Don’t, McKnight.”
Tony stared up at him, brilliant coldness nearly radiating from his eyes. “I’m going to fuck you up one day.”
The soldier brought the pistol down again.
I latched onto his arm.
He hadn’t expected that, and it stopped the sudden plunge of gunmetal into my friend’s face. The soldier looked at me for a few seconds. I thought he might let the matter go…
Then he reached out with his free hand and smacked me.
I stumbled to the side and fell to the ground, my cheek stinging. I lifted my right hand and felt the redness spreading across my face already. I took a deep breath.
Goddammit I needed to be less impulsive.
Shouts rang out. Tony had obviously gotten up again, and a struggle ensued around me. Other men came inside. I tried to jump up, and found myself surrounded by soldiers. Stars spun crazily in front of my eyes, and a dull ringing filled my ears. Fuck, that sack of shit had hit me pretty hard.
“Feed the dog!” Dax called out.
The door clanged shut, and the shouts from inside ceased instantly.
“Jesus,” one of the soldiers said. “That’s Captain Durkee in there!”
“He came unhinged months ago,” the one who had hit me said. “Remember what he did to Lonnie’s squad?”
“I thought he was dead,” the first one muttered. “And you shouldn’t hit girls.”
“Bitch had it coming.”
Holy shit, this guy was a peach. If he ever turned up in my infirmary maybe I’d inject some air bubbles into his bloodstream.
The jackass gave my arm another jerk. “Come on, medic,” he said. “Your doctor is waiting for you.”
I dragged my feet. The last thing I needed right now was Lattimore in my face.
We marched down a few flights of stairs, and then through a doorway. I tried to mark the way, but my vision was still pretty fuzzy.
The double doors in front of the building banged open, and suddenly I was out in the chill of the air again.
“Here she is,” my captor said. “Get her out of my sight before I clock her again.”
“Jesus,” the not-so-bad one whispered.
I braced myself for Lattimore’s voice.
Instead, someone much larger than Lattimore slung an arm about my shoulders in a comradely fashion.
“What did you do to her?” Renati demanded. “You hit her?”
“Bitch asked for it,” the soldier said. Death by air bubbles was clearly too good for him. He needed something slower. Something more painful.
“Now get her out of my sight before I do it again.”
Renati stared at him for a moment, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.
This guy had the shittiest threats, seriously. Briefly I allowed myself to wonder what I would do if I were ever alone with him. Pop his eyeballs out, maybe. Or feed him, bit by bleeding bit, to a ghoul.
The doctor no doubt saw the homicidal urge written across my strained features. He looped an arm around my waist and pulled me in close to him, also effectively preventing me from flying at the soldier, claws outstretched. “Come on, medic,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I don’t know what I expected from Renati.
An explanation, maybe. Some reason for getting me out of what I assumed was the Hastings equivalent of a maximum security prison. Instead, he just started walking, trying to urge me along with him.
I shrugged off his arm and watched him go, too numb and confused to do anything.
“Come on,” he said. “There’s things we must do.”