Riot

“I promise. Of course I promise. I’ll take care of them.”

And I mean it.

***

“Why didn’t you answer your cell these past two days?” We’re sitting at the kitchen table and I’m cleaning with antiseptic his busted knuckles. “The agency said they called you plenty of times. Gale, too.”

“That where you got my address?”

I nod and reach for the first aid kit. “He said you missed an appointment with an elder lady. Ellen something.”

“Ellen Morris. Oh shit. I’ll have to call her and apologize.” He scowls. “Don’t know where my cell phone is. Fucking hell.”

“I’ll help you find it,” I say, my curiosity piqued. “Who is she? From the way Gale talked about her, she sounds like a special client.”

“She is.” He lets me pull his hand onto my lap, put gauze and tape it around his hand. “She’s more like...a friend.”

“A friend.” I close the first aid kit, put it on the table.

“Yeah. She invites me for dinners and concerts. She likes to pet my hair.”

“Sounds creepy.”

“Not really.” He flexes his taped hand. “I kinda...like it. Not that it doesn’t annoy me when she orders me around. Sit. Put your head on my knee. Close your eyes. But then…” He shrug

s. “She’s kind.”

Yeah, I can see now how in a life so empty of human touch, she might look kind. Maybe she is. At least she hasn’t harmed him.

“I’m also good at petting hair, you know.” I reach over, stroke his hair, wink. “I offer my services for free.”

He snorts.

Why do I feel this urge to protect him? He’s a grown man, a tall, strong man who used to be an underground fighter. He doesn’t need me to protect him from frail old ladies who pay to touch his hair.

And yet I feel like he needs me.

“What about you?” he says, and I frown, not following.

“What about me?”

“How are you doing?” He fumbles for my hand, turning so he can see me with his good eye, and I wrap my fingers around his. “Are you really better?”

“I am. Mostly thanks to you.” I smile at him.

“Not true.” He strokes his thumb over the bones of my hand, sending shivers of pleasure up my arm. “Is there anything I can do?”

Tell me what you’re afraid might happen. What those men wanted from you. Leave the agency. Run away with me.

Really be with me.

But I only shake my head. “I love you,” I say. That’s all.

Chapter Twenty

Riot

She’s unhappy.