Savage Vandal (82 Street Vandals #1) - Heather Long Page 0,45
staring at me.
Including Kestrel, who looked angrier than he had when he’d snapped at me for being here in the first place, and Doc, who shoved past him and headed straight for me.
I would have made for him, but Vaughn spun me away. “Ah-ah, Doc. Let’s not start more violence. Dove’s already feeling a bit under the weather after the stench in there. Told Hawk we should have taken the garbage out.”
Kestrel swore, and Doc grunted. But the door behind us slammed shut, and Jasper was in front of me. Only this time when Vaughn tried to swing me away, Jasper said, “Give her to me.”
“Hawk…”
“When I want your opinion, Kestrel, I’ll ask. Give her to me, Falcon. The rest of you, get your asses to work.”
“It’ll be fine, Dove,” Vaughn said against my ear before he handed me over. Jasper gripped me by the biceps of my good arm, but it wasn’t a harsh grasp, and even as he started walking, he didn’t hurry. If anything, he shortened his steps to mine.
“Move,” Jasper said, and suddenly, all those people had somewhere else to be. I glanced at Doc as we passed him.
But he didn’t intercede on my behalf, and Kestrel looked away.
Good to know that alliances were fleeting.
If they existed at all.
Jasper walked me back inside and right past the little living room and the pool table and the television, but instead of going upstairs, we went into a kitchen.
Um.
He pointed to a table as he let me go and dragged out a chair. “Sit.”
Prickling at the order, I glared at him.
Jasper let out a growling groan and met me stare for stare. “Sit. Down.” I honed in on the speck of blood on his cheek. It wasn’t huge, but…he’d had Eric by the throat.
He’d cracked his ribs.
I sat.
I was trembling like hell, and it was taking everything I had to keep my teeth from chattering.
What was it that I’d said about the monster I didn’t know?
Chapter 11
Emersyn
Jasper stared at me for a minute, the frozen tundra of his gray eyes locking me in place. He raised a hand to his mouth, then paused. The minute he looked at his hand, air whooshed out of me.
“Fuck,” he swore.
Jerking my gaze to follow his, I swallowed back bile at the red coating his fingers. I knew what I’d find the minute I looked, and still, I glanced at my upper arm. Where his fingers had gripped me were bloody marks. Still swearing, he scrubbed his hands in the sink, then went over to the ugly ass fridge with its boring beige exterior and yanked it open. Bottles rattled and he pulled out two, then walked over to the table.
He did that thing where guys rest the bottle cap lip against the edge of the table and hit with his fist. The lid popped off and he slid the first bottle to me, then popped the second and took a long pull from it.
Despite the fact that I hadn’t eaten, it had been a fucking day. I took the bottle and downed about half of it. It was awful, and I coughed at the harsh bitterness of the dark beer.
“Might try sipping it,” he suggested, and I just glared at him. The guy had blood on his hands, and he had Eric in a storeroom out there while he was holding me hostage in here. Not looking away, I downed the rest of the bottle.
I didn’t cough this time. I’d choke on it before I gave in.
One eyebrow up, he took my empty bottle and replaced it with his. Then stared at me as if daring me to repeat it. I took a drink and ignored the fact he’d just had his lips on the same place. Disgusting as it was, it hit my system like a shot of valium, quieting the quakes and soothing the rougher edges.
“Hey, Hawk,” a guy said as he stomped into the room. He had tattoos over both arms, long sleeves of them, jungle foliage with animals peeking out at me. His arrival earned a colder stare from Jasper than he’d been giving me. “What do you want us to do with the stash?”
“Put it away for now. We’ll deal with it later. Clean up. Then you and JD head out and grab food.” Jasper cut a look at me. “Fried chicken.”
I didn’t say a word. The fact they lived on a steady diet of fast food was killing me. Particularly with me not working or