Sweet Retribution (Ruthless Games 2)

“Yeah.”

I try to give him a smile, but I know he doesn’t buy it. It feels more like a grimace even to me.

Shaking away my dark thoughts, I follow him inside the house, followed closely by Ryland. But as soon as I’m safely inside, Ryland turns around and heads for the door again.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

Maybe it’s a stupid question. He doesn’t live here, after all, so there’s no real reason to expect him to stay. But a strange flutter of panic ripples through me at the idea of him leaving. I feel like I need him here, even though I can’t quite articulate why.

He hesitates, glancing at me over his shoulder. For just a second, the hard lines of his face smooth out a little, his hazel eyes softening. “I’m gonna run over to Marcus’s place to get your stuff.”

“Oh.” I swallow. “Thank you.”

He dips his head in a nod. “Sure. Who knows, maybe there’ll be some sign of Marcus there. Maybe he…”

Ryland trails off, as if he knows he sounds like he’s grasping at straws. I can hear it too, but I can’t help the little spark of hope that lights inside my chest. “That’s a good idea.”

His jaw clenches, and the hardness I’m used to seeing on his face returns. He gives one more nod, then leaves.

“Come on, Rose.” Theo grabs the bottle of pills out of the little bag they came in, tosses the bag on a small table by the entryway, then pours a couple tablets into his hand. “First, get some painkillers in you. Second, shower. Sound good?”

I nod. All I really want to do is curl up in the fetal position and hope sleep comes for me, but I know it won’t until I do both of those things.

Theo leads me to the kitchen, where he gets me to eat a few crackers before handing me a glass of water and the pills. I swallow them down, then follow him upstairs. My mind is in too much of a daze for me to absorb much of my surroundings, but I notice that Theo seems to have a thing for art. He’s got several big pieces on the walls, paintings with bold colors and indefinable shapes. It’s not exactly what I would’ve expected from him, but somehow, it makes perfect sense.

He leads me down a hallway on the second floor, then opens a door and gestures me inside.

“Guest room,” he says as he steps in after me. “There are towels in the bathroom, and shampoo and shit in the shower.” His brows drop a little, and he steps forward, framing my face with his hands as he looks down at me. “You gonna be okay? You can get in bed right now if you want. I don’t give a shit about the sheets. I just thought maybe you’d want to…” He trails off, his gaze flicking down my body.

As if called up by his words, the lingering coppery scent of blood teases my nostrils. I’m sure I’ve smelled like this the whole time, but I’ve been able to tune it out a little, my mind focusing

on other things.

My stomach roils, threatening to expel the crackers, pills, and water I just consumed. I grit my teeth and nod. “I do want to. Thanks.”

“Okay. Call if you need anything.”

Theo lingers near the bedroom door as I head toward the bathroom, watching me go. I can almost feel the conflict in him, the unwillingness to leave. It seems almost like he’s debating whether to stay and offer to help me, and a part of me wishes he would.

Things between us have always been a little confusing. Something has hovered in the air between us, even as my relationship with Marcus deepened and intensified. The way he looks at me sometimes, that kiss in the alley, the feeling of touching him while Marcus fucked me—it all speaks to something more between us.

And right now, with my world blown to smithereens, little pieces of it floating through the air like dust, Theo and Ryland feel like the only two people in the world I can trust.

The only real things that exist in a world that barely makes sense anymore.

I need them, in a way that scares me a little to think about.

My steps slow a little as I reach the bathroom door, giving Theo a chance to speak up if he wants. But when he doesn’t say anything, I slip into the bathroom and close the door softly behind me.

Maybe it’s for the best. I’m fucked up in the head right now anyway. Maybe I just need to be alone.

As I step toward the shower, my gaze snags on the mirror over the sink. I blink, a fresh wave of nausea washing over me.

Jesus.

How did the men look at me without grimacing? How did Doctor Adelman do his exam without running screaming from the room?

I look like an extra in a horror movie—one who dies in the first fucking scene. Blood mats my dark hair, giving the dark locks an odd auburn sheen. My hair is a tangled mess, and I’ve got a few scratches and bruises on my face. My skin and clothes are caked with blood, and now that it’s drying, it’s starting to flake off in little red particles.