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“The club will cover it.”
But Megan shakes her head in quick, desperate movements, pressing herself against the door. Her voice is shaking, and her normally defiant eyes are wide and terrified. When I look into them, I don’t see any trace of my fiery manager.
“Boss,” Parker sounds tense. “Lars can patch her up at the club.”
When I meet Parker’s gaze, I see that he has a concerned expression on his face. Whatever spell Miss Taylor seems to be slowly casting on me may be rubbing off on him, too.
“Lars?”
“Yeah.”
In another life, Lars used to work as a medic, so I know he’s reliable. He’s seen to my injuries plenty of times, but I’m a little displeased that Parker thought of the idea and I didn’t.
As I glance over at Megan, I’m reminded of the information that Lars shared with me not that long ago. Megan probably spent more time in hospitals as a child than any kid ever should. The petrified look on her face makes my decision pretty simple although I imagine Lars is not going to like it. He’s a pretty inflexible son of a bitch.
“Fine, let’s go to the club,” I agree to Parker’s suggestion. “But call Lars and give him a heads up.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
However, the whole drive back, Megan is quiet and almost a shadow of herself; her hands don’t stop shaking.
The way she’s curled into a corner of the car in an attempt to make herself as small as possible makes me wonder about whatexactlyhappened to her.
And who the hell do I have to destroy to make sure that they pay for it?
Chapter 11
It’s In My DNA
MEGAN
Ifeel sick to my stomach.
When the car stops at The Blue Whiskey, I rush inside to the bathroom and vomit, but I haven’t had anything to eat since morning, so nothing comes out but yellowish bile. I can’t get the memories that are playing over and over again in my head to subside.
The thin needle.
The probing hands.
The screams.
I sink to the marbled stone of the bathroom; my hands pressed against my ears as I try to drown out the screaming of the terrified little girl. There’s a knock at the door and I just hunch further into myself as I hear the sound of the door opening. I want to say something, but no words come out, and then somebody is covering me with a jacket. I look up, expecting to see Mr. Middleton again, but it’s Lars.
“What are you doing?”
He stares blankly at me for a moment, not saying anything, and then he crouches down next to me. The warmth of his jacket is giving me a barrier to hold on to.
“Breathe,” he instructs, his voice unusually kind. “Take long breaths.”
I stare at him and follow his instructions. The breathing helps calm me down, and he tightens the jacket around me. “You’re fine. You’re safe.”
Tears rush to my eyes at the words, and I press my lips together, bobbing my head up and down in understanding.
“Don’t tell him.“
“I won’t,” he says steadily. “Can you stand up?”
He helps me up when I nod. Wetting a hand towel, he wipes my face as I stand there dully. A man who I’m pretty sure looks upon me as a nuisance most of the time is taking care of me. I’ve never had a male figure in my life who’s looked after me.
