Love the Way You Lie (Stripped 1)

Then I realize this isn’t grit, isn’t bits of concrete crumbled off the ground. It’s tiny shards of glass, and they’re cutting into my cheek.

That’s enough to snap me back into reality. I’m in danger. Someone is shooting at us.

“Who are they?” I ask even though it seems fairly obvious. More bounty hunters. More mercenaries. More killers. But why would they be shooting at Kip? He’s one of them.

“We have to get out of here,” Kip yells. “There’s no cover.”

He’s right. The thin columns are no protection at all. He pulls me out of the ballroom. I stumble, but he catches me, shielding me with his body as grass explodes in fireworks at our feet.

He’s holding something. What is it? Moonlight glints off a smooth black barrel.

A gun.

Why does he have a gun? Was he planning on shooting me? But no, then he couldn’t bring me back to his brother—a living prize. I force down a sob. I have to run now. I have to survive. Like walking onto a blinding stage. Like running through gunfire.

Kip shoots back and that gives us a chance to get to the bike. I don’t have time to think.

Only this. Only running.

We make it to his motorcycle and hop on. Then we’re making a cloud of dust and disappearing down the lane. My heart pounds, louder than the engine. I cling to him, holding him tight in my arms, pressing my body against his as we put feet and yards and miles between us and them.

I know I can’t trust him. I know that now more than ever, but for these minutes I don’t have a choice. I couldn’t stay back there and get shot at. I can’t jump off a speeding motorcycle. It’s completely without consent that I breathe in his leathery, clean-sweat scent. It’s totally against my will that I lean into him, drawing strength from him.

We go back the way we came, the line of trees giving way to dark buildings and locked doors. My mind races with what just happened, but it’s too loud to talk on here. The wind is a howl in my ears. It’s like being underwater. We aren’t driving; we’re swimming, kicking up from the bottom, hoping we reach the surface in time.

I’m out of breath when he stops the bike. The panic hasn’t slowed one bit. If anything, racing through the roads has me high on adrenaline. And fear.

“Don’t touch me,” I say. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.”

His eyes reflect concern, but he isn’t glancing around wildly, isn’t ducking behind a building. No, that’s me, and he looks worried about that. He circles the bike and takes me in his arms.

“Hey.” He pulls me into his chest, and I turn my face against him. A kiss lands on the crown of my head. “You’re okay now. You’re okay.”

But I’m not. I can’t outrun a bullet. I can’t outrun a motorcycle.

I can’t outrun him.

Tears are running down my cheeks. I feel out of control. “Why would they shoot us? I figured they’d want us back alive if they’re going to get their money. Or did Byron just put out a hit on us.”

“I need you to trust me now,” Kip says.

I shake my head. There’s no way. Trust? He’s lost the right to that.

And to be honest, I wouldn’t even know how.

So I don’t tell him the truth. I tell him a joke instead. That’s what it is. “Honor,” I say with a watery laugh. “That’s my name. Honor.”

And then I can’t stop laughing, because that’s how funny it is. A stripper named Honor.

My mother must have had such high hopes for me, to name me that. What did she think I would do with this life? Who did she think I would be? The laughing feels like crying, and I still can’t stop.

I paint his T-shirt a dark gray, sticking it to his broad chest with my tears. I move him this way, whole sobs that shake my shoulders—and him too. I hate him but I let him comfort him me. He runs his hand down my hair, murmuring soothing words I can’t understand. They don’t matter anyway. I’m not Honor. I stopped being her the day I took my clothes off on that stage.

I’m Honey now.

Like the Grand—once beautiful, once strong. Built for greatness.

And now just a seedy strip club.