Bane seems to finally remember that I’m here. He stops punching Smokey’s body and sits back on his haunches, panting. He wipes his bloody hands on Smokey’s shirt and kneels, reaching over to me.
Strong arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me into his lap, wrapping my trembling body in his. My head is tucked onto his chest and he’s resting his chin on the top of my head, his arms gathering my legs and shoulders against him in a ball. He’s warm and solid.
“Shhh,” he whispers, rocking me. “You’re ok. It’s ok.” I feel his lips press into my hair. “You’re ok. You’re a crazy, suicidal, stubborn pain the ass. But you’re ok.”
I take a shuddering breath and wipe my eyes, looking up at him. “It’s not ok,” I gulp. “Nothing is ok.”
Our gazes lock and the dark fog lifts from his eyes. He sighs. “You should have listened to me, Red. Now look at this mess.”
My belly goes cold. “Are you saying this is my fault?! You just killed Smokey, not me!”
“God damn it, of course it’s your fault!”
“What the fuck are you saying—that I asked for it? That I asked for this?”
Bane’s face contorts. “I leave you alone for two seconds and—actually, you know what, I take it back. It is my fault for thinking you had enough of a brain to not go kamikaze again and make my life even more of a clusterfuck. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but this isn’t the Ritz Carlton here. You can’t just waltz past the front desk! There are fucking consequences!”
“You’re right,” I say sarcastically. “Wow. Why didn’t I see it before? I should have just given up on the idea that I’m an actual human being and become your fucking property. I’ll just fold up my brain and self respect and just belong to you, how’s that?”
“For fuck’s sake! You saw what they did to Jenny: that was no accident. It was a message. We’re next.” Bane glances at Smokey’s corpse. “Now, we’re definitely next.”
Instinctively, I curl my fingers into Bane’s t-shirt, scared and small. My brain is whirling. “You didn’t have to kill him!”
“I’ve killed for less.”
We stare at each other and a shiver works down my spine. I believe him. In spite of myself, I realize I always believe him. If he says his club could kill us, he must mean it.
I study his handsome, hardened face and feel what I felt before—that this man is capable of anything he sets his mind to. He’s intelligent, fast, and ruthless. He can be, in his own way, kind. He can certainly kill.
How many has he killed?
Bane is studying me too, and a smile quirks at the corner of Bane’s mouth. “You look like a drowned rat,” he says. “Can you walk?”
With surprising speed, he stands to his feet and pulls me up beside him, supporting me. We try a few steps but my ankle can’t support my weight.
“Figures,” Bane mutters, and again sweeps me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
That is how we arrive back at his room, nine flights later. Meat Grinder is still at the bed, now stitching up Jenny’s side. He doesn’t even bother looking up at us as Bane marches straight past him into the bathroom.
Bane shuts and locks the bathroom door behind us, then sets me down on the sink. He reaches his arms around me to wash his hands and open the medicine cabinet. I watch his movements as he gets out a bottle of alcohol and cotton balls and dabs them over his cracked knuckles.
“Motherfucker, that stings,” he hisses.
He’s efficient and thorough, even more so once he turns to me. Starting with my banged ankle, he works up my legs and cleans up my scratches until he comes to my face. Our eyes meet briefly before his attention flickers to my cut lip. Anger clouds his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he grunts. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”
Startled by this, I don’t know what to say. That’s the first time he’s apologized to me, and he really means it. I just stare into those fathomless black-brown eyes, more curious than ever about this man. He cups my face in his hands and grimaces as he rubs the cotton over the cut on the side of my mouth.
“Ah!” I gasp.
“Right?” he mouths absently. “Stings like a motherfucker. There, good as new.”
He tosses the used cotton in the trash and turns back to me. He’s standing between my legs and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. He cups his hands around my chin and his thumbs trace along my jaw line toward my lips. The rough touch of his calloused hands raises goose bumps all over my skin—those hands that have just beaten a man to death. Bane’s intense eyes are burning me alive.
“Hey. Why haven’t you told me your name?” Bane’s voice is gruff and soft.
I don’t know what I expected him to say right now, but that was not it. I bite my lip, fighting tears. “What?”
He frowns at me. “Is it that you think if I don’t know your name, you’re not really here?”
For fuck’s sake, he really can read my thoughts. It’s creepy.
I nod slowly. “Something like that.”
“I’m stuck here too,” he says. “You know my name. That’s not exactly fair.”
I laugh at the ridiculousness of this logic and give him a wry look. “Fair? Really? That’s your argument?”
His smile stretches until he has dimples. “Look, after Smokey, neither of our lives is worth a whole lot here. They’ll know it was me, and there will be a vote and a punishment, and I’ll be out of favor for good. That’s why we’ve got to be smart and we’ve got to plan and get out, together. I gotta get out, and I can’t leave you here alone. This is the time. New names, new papers, and a new life.”
Heart hammering, I search his eyes.
“You’re serious,” I realize. “You’ll actually help me escape?”
The dimples deepen, maddeningly charming. “No, darlin’, I’m gonna save my own ass and throw you in for good luck.”
The hope that rips through my guts is almost painful, and I can’t quite bring myself to trust it. “Why? Why me? Why not one of your girlfriends?”
Bane’s eyes flash but his gaze is steady. “Jealous, Red?” I stare back, evenly. Bane laughs. “Shit. Let’s just say saving your life is becoming a little hobby of mine.”