Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,71
day he can forgive me.
If that’s even possible.
Dead men can’t offer forgiveness.
Thirty seconds later, I’m tossed onto a cool and hard surface. The idling of an unhealthy engine reveals I’ve been placed into the back of a transport van, much less the noise of its door sliding shut a few seconds later. The Novaks are well-known for choosing versatility over luxury when it comes to anything they own—captives included.
After the boom of a car door slamming shut adds to the thump of my woozy head, a man asks, “Should we wait for Alexei?”
“No,” Achim replies, “I’d rather he not come out of this alive.” I can’t see anything through the bag over my head, I’m barely lucid, but I can tell Achim is smiling when he mutters, “Saves the need to find a dumping location on the way to the airport.”
Their brittle laughter is the last thing I hear before I grant my head permission to slip into a shadowy void. I feel protected here. Safe. It has been my shelter for the past six years, and it will remain my shelter until I’m given a good reason to once again step out of the dark.
Eighteen
Trey
Two months later…
I swish my tongue around my mouth, hopeful a bit of spit will loosen up its dryness as the conversation of two people standing next to me trickles into my ears. “How long was he awake this time?”
I could be mistaken, but I believe voice number one belongs to Nikolai. It sounds like him, just more worrying, which is surprising. Usually, nothing rattles him.
“Barely a few minutes. The doctors are lowering his sedation, but they don’t believe it’s the reason he’s been under so long. His head was pretty fucked up, Nikolai. He may not wake up as the Trey we once knew.” The only good that comes from Eight’s comment is the fact my name registers as familiar. I don’t know where I am, or how the hell I got here, but I know my name.
That’s got to be good, right?
“Did you convince Dok to let us take him home yet?” Eight asks, his tone lowering. “Might help with his recovery. Familiarity and shit.”
“We can’t yet…”
The rest of Nikolai’s reply trails off when darkness once again overwhelms me.
“Successful pain management for recovering addicts is just as essential as primary care. Trey is an addict, so you need to manage his pain relief with that in mind, or he’ll come out of this with even more issues than some memory loss.”
That’s Dok. How do I know that? He’ll never let me forget I was addicted to popping pain medication the months following my release from hell. He can’t harp on about blow and crack, they’re pretty much necessities in this industry, but he has no trouble chewing your ass out if your crutch of choice is meant to ease your pain instead of increasing it.
“Acute pain relief is treated the same way for all patients… addicts included,” replies a voice I’m not familiar with. It’s anal and retentive, a voice none of my brothers would ever have. “He has multiple skull fractures. He’d be in a heap of pain.”
Me, in pain? Never. I survived hell, so whatever they’re talking about would be a walk in the park. Before I can tell them that, I blank out again.
“Make sure they put on the double cheese as ordered this time. Fuckers ripped me off last week.”
Laughter breaks out across the room, exposing there’s more than a handful of people surrounding me. Can’t see jack-shit, though. It’s all red and hazy like when you close your eyes and stare at the sun.
“You’re only cranky because the nurses turned down their noses at your offer for them to suck your dick. You always get extra moody when you’re without a whore for the night.”
My entire face aches when my lips notch up into a smirk. Nero loves giving Eight shit about his fascination with fucking. Can’t say I blame him. Eight has a face you can’t help but hate. It keeps the whores on their toes even with him missing two digits.
Eight tosses me into the flames to save his own ass. “Do you think if I slip a twenty under Trey’s sheets tonight, they’ll make his sponge bath extra enticing?”
The laughter of over a dozen men simmers to a whisper when another voice mutters, “I bet he’d rather K do it.”
K? Who the fuck is K?
“Are you sure this is right?” The playfulness Nero’s voice had