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AJ seemed to consider her words for longer than she felt comfortable. “I’ll make a deal with you,” he finally said. “Since this agent seems to be important to you, and we have a long relationship that I do my best to honor - after you heal me, I’ll even bring him to you. Spare you the energy of walking. And yes, if you have it in you, you may heal him, and I’ll let him walk out of this house, unharmed.”
Skyla nodded. It was all she could have hoped for at the moment. Maybe AJ wasn’t the complete monster she’d made him out to be.
“But…” AJ’s lone word popped in the air, and fell on her like a block of ice, chilling her to the bone. “It will cost you.” He put his finger up to his lips as he eyed her with a calculating stare. “A lifetime supply of healings.”
Skyla’s eyes widened with confusion, and then surprise. “What?”
“We both know your father is not immortal and he is older than myself. He will likely eventually either give up his penchant for gambling, or simply leave this earth. It’s safe to say that shortly thereafter, the Deathly Hollow MC will find ourselves short of a very talented healer. So, in exchange for your agent’s life, I want a lifetime supply of healing. Your lifetime. Do we have a deal?”
Skyla couldn’t breathe. It was like the entire world had stopped spinning and her feet had turned to stone under her. She’d always thought if she could just get away from her father, or convince him to stop gambling, she could be free.
For years, ever since her mother died, she’d dreamt of being free of this horrible fate he’d forced her to endure. But now, AJ was asking her to commit her life to healing his goons, constantly being put in danger by their nefarious activities, and worse, always on the verge of feeling like she was knocking on death’s door, because that was what it felt like every time, she healed someone.
But then she thought of Blake. Those unruly blonde curls. His soft lips on hers when she’d kissed him. The tingles that his mere touch sent through her body when he’d touched her arm tonight at Madigan’s. She’d never reacted that way to a man before, and she probably never would again. But even if she didn’t care about Blake, there were still his friends to consider. Her friends. Hallie and Orly would be devastated by his death. As would Caden and Luke, and the other guys. She couldn’t do that to them. Healing people didn’t actually kill her. It just drained her and made her feel like death.
From the moment she’d met AJ, Skyla had never liked him, but at this very moment, she hated him with a passion unlike any other. He had her by the throat without even laying a hand on her. And she knew better than to try to bargain. Once he decided on something, there was no going back. No compromise. Nothing. He either got what he wanted, or she was shit out of luck.
Drawing in a ragged breath, she knew what had to be done. “And nothing else will change?” She asked.
AJ shook his head. “You’ll be watched, of course. Now that you know who Nico really is, it will make it easier. And if you try to get out of our deal, your father and your friends will pay the ultimate price. But aside from that, no, I don’t see a reason to change anything else, as long as you keep holding up your end of the bargain.”
His words. His threats. They held her tighter than any cuffs or chains ever could. She’d die before she let anything happen to the people she loved. “Okay,” she whispered. “I agree.”
Chapter 16
Blake’s eyes flew open. His gut was on fire, the pain spreading into his lower back and up between his shoulder blades, but it was the soft moan coming from somewhere close by that drew him back to consciousness. He had no idea where he was, or how he’d gotten here. He also had no sense of time. Had it been five minutes or five hours since the last time he opened his eyes? He had no idea. The last thing he remembered was being at Madigan’s watching Sailor Hawkins performing, thinking about how he had to talk to Skyla about their kiss.
An involuntary shiver rattled him painfully, even as beads of sweat covered his forehead. He needed to get the hell out of here before whoever had put him here, wherever here was, came back. He braced, wanting to sit up, but before he could even get his shoulders off the makeshift bed, a sharp pain tore through his core, ripping a scream from him and flattening him back down. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to subside back to tolerable levels. His head lolled to the side, his cheek pressing into the pillow. It was warm and wet, undoubtedly soaked in his sweat, maybe even his blood. The material was a dark color, so he couldn’t be sure. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and it was only then that he noticed the slight form of a woman lying beside him. That would explain the soft moaning he’d heard, though if he was being honest with himself, he’d thought it was him.
He studied her features for a long moment. Taking in the long dark hair with purple lowlights. The high cheekbones. The heavy eyeliner. The cherry red lips. Shit. His heart sank, even as his eyes widened. This wasn’t just some woman. “Skyla,” he breathed out her name like it was the last puff of air in his lungs. What the hell was she doing here? “Skyla,” he said again, louder this time. But she was out of it. Her cheeks were void of color. She looked so small and fragile, but she was wearing the same clothes she had on at Madigan’s. What the hell happened? “Skyla?” He found her hand, taking it in his. Her skin was cold and clammy to the touch. He wrapped his finger around her palm, gently squeezing. “Wake up. What happened to you? Skyla!” If she didn’t come to soon, he didn’t know how he was going to get them both out of here. He reached for his back pocket, where he kept his cell phone, but it was missing. Had it fallen out, or had whoever shot him taken it? Not that it mattered now. If they had any chance of getting out of whatever this was alive, they needed to move.
She moaned again, the sound tearing at his heart. “Hey,” he said, softly. “Wake up.”
Slowly, she turned her head and her eyes opened. She stared unseeing at him, her expression blank, and then, the corners of her mouth lifted in a tired, but clear smile. Of all the things he expected her to do, smiling was definitely not it. What the hell was she so happy about? “You’re alive,” she whispered. “You’re alive.”
The utter relief in her voice did something to him, shattering a wall he didn’t even know he had up deep inside himself. Her hand was still firmly encased in his, and he had no plans of letting go. “What happened to you?” He asked, almost forgetting his own excruciating pain. He was almost positive he’d been shot again. “Do you know how we got here? Where is here? Actually, never mind. Help me up. Let’s see how far we can get before someone tries to stop us. Then, we’ll have to fight our way out, but I think between the two of us, we have a chance.”
Skyla shook her head, licking her chapped lips. “I can do you one better, and you can use the front door. I just need a few minutes.”
Either he hadn’t heard her right or she was confused. “The front door? I don’t think whoever brought us here -”
She put a finger over his mouth, the sensitive pads of her fingertips brushing against his lips. Without even thinking, he pressed a gentle kiss to them, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Shhh,” she said. “It’s going to be okay. Just let me rest a bit.”
Blake stared at her in confusion. They didn’t have time to take a nap. If they wanted to live, they had to move now, before someone came back for them. Still, Skyla really did look like she needed a few minutes, and it wasn’t like he was in any condition to carry her, so he lay there, watching over her while she slept.
The room they were in wasn’t large, but it had a double bed and a chair in the corner. A framed print of a horse hung on the wall opposite the bed, and curiously enough, the door leading out of the room was wide open.
His gaze drifted back to Skyla, her words echoing in his mind. Could they really just walk out the front door. How? And why? What had all this been about? His memory was foggy at best. How the hell had they ended up here when they’d just been at Madigan’s? Was it even the same night?
Skyla’s chest rose and fell, her breaths even and strong. Her nose wrinkled in her sleep, like she was dreaming about a naughty little secret, and it made him wonder if she was dreaming about him, the way he often dreamt about her.
Time seemed to stand still in a meaningless and ethereal sort of way. He might’ve even fallen asleep and woken up a few times, before a soft, small hand landed on his chest. With his eyes still closed, he grabbed it, only to hear a squeak from beside him. “Skyla,” he muttered, releasing her hand. “Sorry. I forgot you were here for a second. Are you ready to move now?”
“Listen to me, Blake. When this is all over, I need you to promise me something.”
He grimaced, the burning in his gut getting worse. He’d probably lost a ton of blood by now and would need a transfusion. “Sure. But let’s get out of here first. I’m going to need your help. I can’t believe I got shot. Again.”
Skyla sighed. At least she didn’t seem to be in any pain. “That’s what happens when you don’t follow simple instructions. I told you to stay away from Madigan’s. From me.” He opened his eyes, locking his gaze onto hers. He was about to argue, but she rolled onto her side and placed her hand on his chest, then lowered it to where the burning pain was coming from. He winced, and went to remove it, but she flung his hand away and pressed her fingers firmly onto the wound. “Skyla,” he barked, nearly passing out from the sharp pain.
