“Where are we going?” Her voice was hesitant and quiet.
“Toronto.” I didn’t wait for more questions and took her hand, urging her out of the car.
“I, ah… I don’t know if…” she glanced over my shoulder at the plane. “I don’t know if I should.”
“You have family here?” I corrected myself. “Family that doesn’t beat you?”
She shook her head.
“A fuckin’ pet you can’t part with?”
“No.”
“Friends?”
She hesitated before admitting, “Umm, no.”
“Then you’re getting on the plane and coming to Toronto.”
“Kilter, let’s go, man,” Quill called from the door of the plane.
I tugged on her hand. She staggered and nearly fell to her knees. “Shit, babe.” I grunted as I stepped into her and picked her up in my arms. “You need to fuckin’ eat.” I told her that three weeks ago while we sat in the air duct. “The place we’re going, no one will hurt you. You can beef up, get yourself together, and then decide where you want to go. Good?”
She was stiff in my arms, but nodded. “I, ah… I can walk now.”
I ignored her as I continued to the plane, walked up the stairs and down the aisle, and then placed her in one of the large swivel leather seats. I grabbed a blanket from the bulkhead and laid it over her.
“Ah, thanks.” She clutched the edges and pulled it up to her neck before turning her head to face the window.
I moved up the aisle to the four leather seats facing one another with a table between them.
The plane belonged to the Scars and it was first class. The pilot was paid a shitload of money to be on standby and work strictly for us. He was human, so we were careful about using abilities and talking Scar business when he was around.
“How is she?” Quill asked and plopped down into the chair across from me.
“How the fuck do you think?” In shock and a walking corpse. And every time I saw her husband’s fingerprints on her neck, my gut twisted. They’d be purple and blue by tomorrow.
“Hey, just asking, buddy,” Quill said, paused, then continued, because that’s what Quill did. “She’s going to need serious help. That place was fucked. Drugs. Laboratories. Beds with straps, and I’m talking metal ones, not fluffy nice straps for, you know… fun shit.”
I grunted.
Quill’s piercing blue eyes sparked with anger and strands of his reddish blond hair fell in front of his face as he shook his head. “A real bad taste in my mouth from that place. Don’t want to think about what that chick’s been through. She’ll need—”
“I’ll deal with it.”
“Kilter, man, the girl is sick, and I’m not talking just physically, emotionally. It’s bad. I taste it, man.”
“You think I don’t know that.”
“How are you going to deal with it?” Jesus Christ, the guy didn’t know how to shut up. “The only person you’ve looked after is yourself.”
Not true. There’d been a time when I looked after my family, my clan. “Yeah, well, for good reason. I’d be stupid to trust anyone. Did that. Don’t make the same mistake twice.”
Quill was too politically correct to bring up old trust issues. Shit, all the Scars knew I didn’t trust a single one of them. Torture spoke volumes, and I knew it all too well. Never again would I put faith in anyone—period.
The doors of the plane shut, and the pilot announced takeoff.
Quill nodded to my wound. “Bandage your shoulder before you bleed to death. I’d offer my services, but you’re a shithead and would refuse it anyway.”
I shrugged. Yeah, I would. I didn’t like anyone touching me.
Quill put his feet up on the seat across from him, put his head back, closed his eyes, and said, “Think I might spend a few days in T.O. See how this plays out.” Asshole. “Might be worth taking shit from Waleron just to watch him lay into you.”
I ignored him, eyes on Rayne as the plane taxied down the runway. I couldn’t see her face, but saw her chest rise and fall evenly beneath the blanket.
As soon as we were in the air, I unclipped my seatbelt and walked to the back of the plane, grabbed the first aid kit, and proceeded to wrap my shoulder. It was a minor wound—bullet went straight through, hitting nothing vital. Still, it hurt like hell and took me a while to wrap it one handed.
Quill was right. I’d never looked after anyone but myself. I was morally selfish. But I went back to that compound. For her. I’d convinced myself it was because I wanted to kill her husband, and I did. But I’d gone back for her. Killing her husband had been a bonus.
I shoved the rest of the bandage material in the box, put it away, and then walked down the aisle to Rayne. The blanket had slipped to her chest and I noticed goose bumps on her neck. I pulled the blanket up and my knuckles grazed the curve of her jaw.