Chapter Twenty-Two

“I hate it when that happens.” Joey grimaced at the foul taste in her mouth and wondered if she could muster the energy to get up and rinse out her mouth. “Why the hell did you let her eat that stuff, anyway?” She looked Rory over with one squinted eye and winced. “God. You look like shit, honey.” And he did, poor guy. Knowing what he had just been through, she couldn’t blame him if he hated her guts right now.

“Joey, huh?” Rory said, resignation in his expression. Across from her, he shifted to a more comfortable position against the tiled wall. It wasn’t easy, that much she could see.

“You were expecting someone else?” she asked, amused. Clearly he was slow on the uptake. He should have noticed the pattern by now. When shit got tough, she got screwed. Impatiently, she patted down the pockets of her pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a disposable lighter. “Jeez. Why menthols?” she complained, tapping one out and lighting it, regardless. “But, anyway. You okay? You really do look awful.” That was an understatement.

“No shit,” he drawled, pinching the spot between his eyes. “Ya think?”

She chuckled. “Sorry ’bout that.” And she was. Lena was heavy on everyone. “But Lena does serve a purpose, you know.”

“Yeah? What purpose might that be…dare I ask?” He touched an obviously sore spot on his side and breathed through the pain.

Poor baby.

She knew just how he felt.

“Lena’s tough,” she said. “A survivor who doesn’t take crap from anyone. She’s the person you want to have by your side if you ever get into a nasty situation. Like the one tonight.”

The look he gave her was incredulous. “If you say so. But then, we wouldn’t have had this nasty situation to begin with if she’d just stayed the hell away from that Jack character.”

“You can’t have everything, I suppose.” Joey inhaled the smoke deeply. “Doesn’t everyone have a down side? Those were some nice moves back there, by the way. Martial arts?”

In her mind’s eyes she could still admire the fluidity of his movements, the strength and skill combined. One opponent less, and he’d have gained the upper hand, she was sure.

“Some. How would you know?”

“Know what?” His question startled her from replaying the fight in her mind, learning the way he moved and thought. Fighting showed the way a man thought, better than anything.

“What kind of moves I made?”

“Oh. Well, sometimes I like to watch, you know.” She winked at him.

That annoyed him, she saw, secretly amused. His buttons were so easy to push.

Besides, it was hard to explain in words. When the others were in control, it felt like she was floating weightlessly in a thick mist. A mist that enveloped her completely. She could hear sounds sometimes, but they were muted, as though coming from a far distance. And it was only when she really tried that she’d be able to catch foggy images, flitting in and out of focus.

Being in this state wasn’t one she enjoyed. In fact, she hated the purposelessness of that limbo where nothing seemed real.

A delicate shiver ran down her spine.

Across from her, Rory sighed and dragged a dirty hand down his face. “What about you? You all right? You look a bit green-ish.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Must be the booze.” A sudden memory made her frown. “Or that pill Jack tried to shove down Lena’s throat. Either way, other than a few more bruises, I’ll be fine. Now, back to you. Let’s look at the damage, shall we?”

“What pill?” Rory demanded, a dangerous edge to his tone.

Oops. She was going to have to learn how to keep her mouth shut. In the short time she’d known him, she’d discovered he had an honorable streak a mile long, and an annoyingly tenacious mind.

She got to her feet and whipped a towel from the rack. “Who the hell knows? Upper, downer, sider…whatever. Lena hates drugs.” So did she, but that was beside the point. “You can hardly blame her for breaking the guy’s nose.” She snapped her fingers, saying, “Come on, up with you,” and pointed at the tub’s edge. “Sit, so I can look at those bruises.” Risking Rory’s well-being right now just wouldn’t do. Regardless of Lena’s opinion, they needed him.

Frowning, he heaved to his feet and tentatively perched on the smooth rim. “Tell me more about that pill.” He grasped her wrist when she would have raised a wet towel to wash dirt and caked blood off his face.

She pulled a face. “Jacko wanted to get high together while they were getting it on. It definitely turned Lena off.” The memory, faint though it was, disgusted her. Fuck Lena, anyway, faking sexual interest just to get her hands on that gun. If she’d let her, Joey could have filched that gun off Jack without him ever being the wiser. Lena never could delegate.

Rory didn’t need to know any of this, though. Casually, she said, “She likes being conscious when things get serious. What fun would it be if you can’t remember afterward, right?” He didn’t like that, but she blithely continued. “So, when he got a little too insistent, she sort of snapped.” Joey grinned at that understatement and gently twisted loose from his grip. Wedging the cigarette between her lips, she dabbed lightly at his brow.

The touch made him wince. Regardless, he asked, “Was that why you punched him? Because he wanted you to take drugs?”

“Not me, silly. Pay attention. And stop fidgeting.” This was going to hurt, she thought, concentrating on the red bruise on his cheekbone. Puffing out smoke, she scissored her fingers around the cigarette and held it away. “But technically we’re in the same body, so I guess you could say it was me. Hmm. Anyway.” It didn’t matter. Thinking about the intricacies of her so-called roommates always gave her a headache. “The idiot was too stupid to take no for an answer. Not smart, pissing off Lena.”

“An understatement.”

“I guess she did go a bit too far, though. She gets excited, and these things happen.” She tipped her head to the side and admired another bruise. Boy, did he get a beating. The poor guy must surely regret the day he’d decided to spring her from the nuthouse. “Nice shiner, by the way.”

She truly felt for him, even experienced a niggling sense of guilt as she nudged his chin to the other side to get to the scrape on his cheek.

“Why did you—”

She gave him a warning look.

“Sorry. Why did Lena even go back there with the guy?”

Unbuttoning Rory’s shirt, she revealed the dirt-covered skin below. With as much detachment as she could muster, she examined the impressive expanse of his chest.

Damn, the man had muscles.

Determined not to get distracted, she tossed the finished cigarette into the tub. She’d told him this much, might as well go all the way.

“His gun, of course. Lena really dislikes being unarmed, so she took the matter into her own hands.”

Her touch light, she dabbed his chest with the wet towel and came upon his aching ribs. She probed them one by one. Bruised, rather than broken.

Lastly, she focused on the bleeding cut over his brow. Ew. Handling blood had never been her strong suit. She preferred to have others deal with it.

“You’ll need a couple of stitches, honey. Let me just get the supplies.”

She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.