Vicious Rebel (82 Street Vandals #2) - Heather Long Page 0,91

up my butt from where it had gone numb again down my legs, that also protested the absolute lack of movement all day.

A few seconds later, the door opened to the near pitch-dark room. I couldn’t see Freddie, but I could smell him, and the scent of sweat and body odor was a little strong.

“Thanks, Boo-Boo,” he said in a raw voice. “I really liked you reading.”

“There’s a sandwich here for you. A couple of them.”

When I would have picked them up, Kestrel tugged me back from the door. “He’s a big boy, he can get them. You’ve looked after him all day, let’s look after you, shall we?”

I wanted to argue, but Freddie’s lack of objection coupled with the expression on Kestrel’s face had me biting my tongue. He led me to his room and, by default, to where mine was.

Though he wasn’t wearing the overalls from the shop, I could smell the hints of dirt, exhaust, and motor oil on him. There was also the familiar scent of the soap from the garage. It had a kind of lemon tang to it, but it cut through the grease smell.

Inside his room, Kestrel closed the door.

“Did I do something wrong?”

At my question, he blinked, then shook his head as he stretched. It was only when he turned the lights on in his bathroom that I got a good look at the weariness on his face. There were shadows beneath his eyes. His jaw was a lot scruffier than I’d ever seen it. I couldn’t remember if he’d been clean-shaven that morning or not.

He aborted his stretch with a faint grimace before he rubbed his shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Freddie’s…Freddie’s fallen off the wagon before. We can pick him up, clean him off, and throw him back in the wagon, but the choice to stay on it has to be his.”

There was a hitch to his step as Kestrel reached into the shower and turned it on before turning to face me.

“You did a good thing, sitting out there while he was in his room feeling sorry for himself. But now you have to wait for him to come back out and reach out for help.”

Oh.

The feeling was returning to my butt and the backs of my thighs. The pins and needles weren’t the worst I’d ever felt, but it made me want to stretch out.

“I’m going to shower. Then look into finding food for dinner. You got any preferences?”

Not looking at me, he tugged his shirt off and threw it toward the basket in the corner before he freed his work boots. Every motion he made had him gritting his teeth, and the muscles didn’t quite finish their stretch before they contracted.

“You hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Sparrow.” He sent me a smile as he straightened. “Nothing to worry about.”

I mouthed, ‘Liar,’ as he undid his belt with one hand and closed the door with the other. I let myself into my room and went into the bathroom, where I ran some hot water into the sink. Kestrel took fast showers, and I was already back in his room when he came out wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. Droplets of water decorated his chest and slid over the pair of guns he had tattooed to his pecs.

“On the bed,” I ordered and ignored the surprise on his face. He moved over to sit on the end and watched me as I walked back into my room. I wrung out one of the hot towels, then came back in. With care, I wrapped it around his neck and did my best to not catalog the other tattoos he had. It wasn’t any of my business, and I wasn’t doing this to ogle him.

“What’s up, Sparrow?” He tracked me with those cool eyes as I reached for the liniment that had been in my bag. At least when they returned some of my stuff, I had some of my basic supplies.

“You’re hurt.” I rubbed it on my hands to warm it, because it would turn my hands to ice at first application, and then moved to his left shoulder. At his swift gasp of air through his teeth despite his stoic expression, I nodded. “I’m not wrong. You can’t stretch the arm all the way up. You did something to your shoulder. Either to a tendon or to the muscles. Hyperextended maybe?”

Not waiting for his answer, I just dug my fingers in as I spread the liniment