Rogue (Dead Man's Ink, #2)

I take the pills because I don’t really feel like heading down to the local doctor’s surgery and getting my own prescription of antibiotics. At this stage, I couldn’t manage that anyway, even if I really did feel like answering the probing questions that come with a stab wound consultation.

Cade slips out of the cabin, leaving me on my back, staring up the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to say to the quiet girl hovering in the corner of the room.

I’m such a complete and utter asshole. I shouldn’t have even come storming back up the hill to the cabin when we got back from Ramirez’s farmhouse. I should have just kept my cool and stayed on track. Stayed the fuck away. But, oh no, I had to be in a shitty mood. I had to fucking see her.

“Does it hurt?” Sophia’s voice is soft, and yet it feels like a slap to the face. One I deserve, and then some. When I open my eyes, she’s sitting on the floor a few feet away from the bed, like she’s afraid I’m about to jump up and backhand her. Seeing the panic in her eyes makes me feel physically sick all over again.

“Not really,” I lie. “Could be worse.” Yeah, I could be fucking dead.

“You feel a bit better now?” She sounds like she’s on the brink of tears. There’s a defiant look on her face, but her hands are shaking. I can see the slight tremor as she twists a piece of thread over and over around her fingers. God, she’s so damn beautiful. Why couldn’t a dude have witnessed Ryan’s murder? If she were a dude, I would not be having this problem. But then again, if she were a dude, Dela Vega would have murdered her on the spot after seeing what went down. She would have had absolutely no purpose to him. At least as a woman, he knew Ramirez might want to make some quick cash off her.

“I’ll be fine tomorrow,” I tell her. I won’t be fine tomorrow. Truth be told, I’m probably going to be out of commission for days, if not weeks, because of this injury. And being out of commission’s something I really can’t afford to be right now.

I can’t think about that, though. My head is still swimming. Keep my damn eyes open is becoming an almost impossible task, and the bed feels like it’s pitching and rolling like a motherfucking sailboat.

“I could have run, y’know,” Sophia whispers softly. “I could have just gone, run off into the night and left you here. I’d probably be halfway to the next city by now.”

“You mean you’d probably be vulture bait,” I say, correcting her. But I know she’s right. She could have just left me to die. If she’d made a different decision when I sent her running out of here, there’s no doubt about it—I would have been fucking long gone. “Thank you, Soph,” I say quietly under my breath. “Thanks for not bailing on me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her expression growing less worried and more irritated. “After what you said to me, I should have. My sister would have probably finished the job if you’d have said that to her. She’d have strangled you to death before you even had chance to bleed out.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t say it to her. And I’m sorry I said it to you. I shouldn’t have. I know you wouldn’t screw any of the guys.”

“Then why say it? And why leave me here, trapped in this cabin for ten days, after I said I would help you in Alabama? It makes no sense. It’s just damn cruel, in fact.” She speaks slowly. I can tell she’s still furious but she keeps her voice down now. No more shouting and screaming. No more trying to pile drive her knee straight through my ribcage. Given her reaction earlier, I feel like making a show of cowering from her, but it’s probably still too early for jokes yet. Besides, I’d probably burst open my stitches if I move, and Cade will not be thrilled if I undo his handiwork. He’ll probably stab me all over again.

“If my boys knew you were here, why you were here, or that Raphael is on the look out for you, they’ll want to use you somehow,” I explain. “They’ll want to use you as bait or something to lure Ramirez out, and I’m not taking that kind of chance.”

Soph rests her chin on her knees, staring up at me on the bed. “Yeah. Well, I mean, I don’t want to be anywhere near Dela Vega or Ramirez again if I don’t have to be.” She sounds like even the prospect of running into either of those men is enough to give her nightmares. I’d be surprised if that’s not actually the case.

“As soon as Raphael lays eyes on you here, Soph, that will be it. I know him. He’s a sick motherfucker. He won’t ever stop until he gets his hands on you.”

Sophia shivers. Shakes her head, like she’s trying to shake the very memory of him out of her body. “Why would Ramirez follow you here? Why would he actually search you out? I don’t get it.”

“We’re not playing hide and seek, Soph. Neither side wants to drag this out. The longer we’re at each other’s throats, the longer Ramirez can’t relax or conduct business without watching his back. The longer he can’t smuggle his drugs into the country. The longer he can’t focus on selling his women.”

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