Wrong Way Home - Taken (Criminal Delights 1)
Page 10
The boy’s nose was narrow but large, like a sail that could steer his entire head off-course in the presence of strong wind, and his lips thin yet wide, almost too big for the breadth of his face. It was only fitting that so were his teeth—white and even but strangely overgrown.
“Hello. My name’s Colin,” the boy said, curling his fingers around one of the steel bars.
Taron couldn’t help a snort coming out of his lips despite the movement reminding him of the knife lodged in his side.
I see what you’re trying to do, he would have said if he cared to strain his damaged vocal cords. Colin was trying to gain sympathy for his plight. Pretty smart for a city rat.
Colin swallowed. He had a long, slim neck, and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he was afraid. “And you are Taron, right?”
Taron let out a long sigh. He always chose to pretend that he was both mute and deaf. That way, it was easy to find out what people’s real thoughts were. So he just watched Colin’s lips move and hoped he’d get the hint. What the fuck was he supposed to do with this guy? City-boy had witnessed Peter McGraw’s demise, and he would tell the police all about it as soon as he was out, no matter what he claimed right now.
Taron rose. If Colin pierced any vital organs, things could go south real fast once the blade no longer plugged damaged vessels. Removing the knife out felt like flipping a coin, only the two sides were life or death. Would have been just Taron’s luck to die like this, even before shit hit the fan.
Colin licked his lips. They were pretty, a nice rosy color, his tongue a bit darker, though Taron wasn’t sure if he should let his thoughts wander that way.
“I could help you with the wound. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding.”
The hole in Peter McGraw’s head had not been a misunderstanding. Motherfucker had it a long time coming. The stabbing wasn’t a misunderstanding either. Colin, understandably, wanted to run, and he’d do anything to achieve that.
No can do, boy.
Colin rested his head against the bars and shifted to sit cross-legged by the bars. His body language was growing more confident now that he no longer felt death was just a second away. “I know what you think, but what would you have done in my place? I was scared. But I’m also a medical professional, and it’s my duty to keep people alive.” He looked up, meeting Taron’s gaze. “It was a blind stab, but it’s awfully close to your arteries. If you try to deal with this on your own, you’re at risk of bleeding out. I’m sure you don’t want that.”
Taron hated people talking to him as if he was stupid. He had a first aid kit, and he damn well knew how to treat injuries. To make his point, he pulled out the box containing everything he needed. He considered having some whiskey first, but liquor would make his fingers shaky. The pain was bearable for now, but he could really use some numbing after the procedure.
Medical professional, my ass.
Colin’s fingers slid down the bars, and he barely kept his wide lips from twisting. Yeah, boy, your plan’s not going to work.
“What’s your plan if you don’t want my help?”
Taron raised his eyebrows and forced a smile despite the pain. He shook the first aid box and walked up to the armchair, because he needed to sit down for this bullshit. Bleeding out all over his jerkoff chair with a pretty boy watching wouldn’t be such an awful way to go.
Taron spared Colin another glance. He really did look fine. Taron made a point of pushing the magazines to the floor with nonchalance. Sure, he was embarrassed about Colin seeing them, but there was no point denying their existence now.
Colin flinched, but then his mouth widened in a smile. “I don’t think my girlfriend would be happy if I read that.”
Taron let out a low groan. Of course. Straight. Just his luck. A straight mouth to feed. It would still be interesting to see if Colin tried to buy his favor with sexual services. Taron shouldn’t have been thinking about fucking the boy, with a knife in his side, but he couldn’t help himself when he saw that handsome smile. It had been a while.
He took out a pair of scissors from the first aid kit and cut through the fabric around the wound. It was a damn shame, because the sweater had served him for the past few years, and he hated shopping for clothes. He was a big guy, and it could be hard to find his size second hand. He sure wasn’t about to learn knitting. Though maybe Colin would like to if he got bored enough.