King nods, and the pistol goes back to his belt. “We're done. I'm going to send these to every fucking news outlet in town, and we'll see what Hawthorne does then. We're not fucking playing around.”
My heart takes a long time slowing. I never knew that your life actually flashes before your eyes before you die, but I'm pretty sure it just did. “You're animals,” I snap before thinking about it. They all turn to me.
Crap.
But no one denies it. King nods. “We are.” But he manages to look regretful, like he'd found that almost as distasteful as I did.
Even Wild Child has the grace to at least look a little guilty. He looks around the room, then back at me. “Hey, when we're not doing crazy shit, you're probably pretty bored in here, right?”
This has been nothing but crazy shit so far, but he's not wrong either. There have been long hours just sitting in here, trying to entertain myself while I think myself into more and more spirals. So I nod.
“Be right back.” King and Hero look after him about as confused as I am, but a moment later, he's back with an armful of books. He dumps them on my bed. “Here. I've read them all anyway. Got them from my Dad.”
I glance over them. They're all old pulp science fiction and fantasy books. Wild Child is a reader?
10
KING
She fell asleep eventually, even if it's fitful sleep. Her blanket lies on the floor, long since kicked off, while she's curled up in a little ball on the cot. She whimpers. Whatever she's dreaming about, it's not good. Maybe that's not so fucking surprising, given her day. Fuck, maybe I shouldn't have drawn the gun on her, but it made for good pictures.
Well, nightmares are nothing new to me. I shake my head, trying not to think too much about waking in cold sweats, then tossing and turning the rest of the night, too fucking jittery to sleep again with the demons lurking at the edges of the shadows.
I stretch my legs out, trying to find a more comfortable position on the fold-out chair. Calling first watch seemed sensible at the time, but I can't say I'm not envying Hero and Wild Child getting to catch up on their Z's while I'm stuck here.
My gaze slips back to young Ms. Hawthorne. Emily? No idea what she prefers, but most likely it's me not talking to her ever again.
Fuck. This was supposed to be quick. A phone call, a little chat with her daddy, and then everything would be over. Our little captive could go back to the comfort of her rich girl existence and I could go back to sleeping the whole night in my own fucking bed. But Hawthorne had to make it difficult.
With a yawn that threatens to unhinge my jaw, I shift position again, putting one foot up on the opposite knee. Just keeping moving to keep awake. Fuck. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck babysitting a spoiled mayor's brat for any longer than necessary, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
She's got a fantastic ass.
Now I know I need sleep. Maybe I should grab Janey or one of the other sluts and work off my frustration. If I'm sitting here getting horny over a sleeping Hawthorne, it's obvious it's been too long. Still, she's got some meat on her bones, something for me to hold on to while taking her for a ride. I'd fucking enjoy it.
Shit, she probably wouldn't even know what to do. Too good for whoring up in her ivory tower. Better with a slut who knows what the fuck she's doing, but the thought refuses to go away, and my eyes refuse to stop tracing her curvy outline.
She whimpers again and turns so she's facing me. Still asleep, and now her ass is pointed away. Doesn't mean I stop looking. Her face is pretty too, even when it's screwed up in distress. Whatever her dream is about, it's pretty fucking shitty.
It’s probably me.
Her mouth opens as she draws a shuddering breath, and I'm imagining what I'd love those full lips wrapped around. Maybe it's just as well the other guys aren't here right now.
“No! Dad, no!” she suddenly says very clearly, then twists the other way again, fleeing from something.
What the fuck?
Dad? Kurt Hawthorne is scum, but… his daughter? What the fuck has he done to her?
She kicks at something in her dream. Or maybe she's running. “No!”
We all have pasts that chase us in our dreams, some of them darker than others. Fuck, even when I'm not sitting guard, I'm not guaranteed a good night's sleep because of it. Looks like she's dealing with some shit, too.
The chair scrapes on the floor as I get up, walk over and put my hand on her shoulder. “Hey. Wake up.”