Read Online Cash (The Henchmen MC Book 2) by Jessica Gadziala - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jessica Gadziala
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didn't hurt, the drugs were making the throbbing and stabbing sensations completely dull and making my eyes get heavy. The blankets got pulled up under my chin and tucked gently under my shoulders. The bed depressed and my eyes fluttered open to see Cash sitting off the edge, looking down at me. His hand moved toward my face, hesitated, then stroked through my hair instead. Even half-numb from whatever heaven-sent drugs Cash had given me, I felt a tingle spread across my scalp.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked, his voice quiet. I made some kind of murmuring sound that he took for agreement and pressed on, “The fucker didn't rape you, did he?”
The word sent a jolt through my body and Cash's hand froze its stroking of my hair. “No,” I said, the word firm, a little horrified.
“Didn't think so,” he said to himself, brushing through my hair and I had to fight to keep my eyes open. “Sleep, baby.”
“'Kay,” I heard myself say and my eyes drifted closed easily.
Just before sleep claimed me, I heard a low chuckle. “I think I like you better all drugged-out complacent,” he mumbled, but I was too tired to yell at him, so I didn't.
–
I woke up slowly, my body feeling sluggish, my brain feeling like it was wading through mud to get a thought to form properly. My eyes opened, squinting at the near-darkness of the only vaguely familiar room and I moved to bolt upward, disoriented. The stab through my ribs had me yelping loudly, as I lie back down and brushed a stray tear off my cheek.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” I whimpered, the pain returning fast and furious, taking me by surprise and completely overwhelming me.
A light flicked on and I turned my head to see Cash leaning against the doorjamb. “Waking up is the worst,” he said quietly, pausing before he moved into the room. “Drugs wear off?”
“Everything hurts,” I admitted, surprising myself more than him. That wasn't something I did, sharing how I was feeling, not even when I was hurt. I didn't do that. It was admitting weakness.
At my words, his face fell slightly and I wished I could suck them back in and see the jovial, carefree Cash again. “I ordered food,” he admitted, surprising me. “You want to take a shower first?”
God, how did he guess so right so easily?
“Yeah,” I admitted, clenching my teeth and getting up out of bed.
“Easy,” he said, reaching for me when I swayed on my feet. “You ain't gonna impress me by being all badass so take your time.”
I flashed my eyes at him though inside, I was grateful. I followed him into the hall and through to the bath and watched as he rummaged around in his linen closet and pulled out: two towels (yes, two, as if he knew I would need one to wrap my hair up in), a toothbrush in its packaging, a brush, a small basket full of first aid supplies, and a spare t-shirt that would work as a dress despite how tall I was.
“Clean up, get your face cared for, then call me up here and I'll wrap your ribs.”
“It's fine. I can...”
“Sure you can,” he agreed, but his lips were twitching, like he found my inability to accept help amusing. “But I can do it without hurting you and I can do it tighter so you don't wince every time you take a step. So call me or I'll just let myself in in ten minutes.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, avoiding my reflection in the mirror above his sink.
“Get your scrub on. I'll go wait for the food.”
With that, he was gone and I went through the process of stripping off my clothes and unwrapping my bandages. I slipped out of my panties, turned the tap on hot, and poured hand soap on them. I wasn't a particularly high maintenance woman, but I absolutely refused to wear panties two days in a row without a wash. I went into the linen closet and found a blow dryer buried in the back and placed it on the counter. It would work for a makeshift clothes dryer.
I kept my face out of the water as I showered, slathering on soap and shampoo
“Can I ask you something?” he asked, his voice quiet. I made some kind of murmuring sound that he took for agreement and pressed on, “The fucker didn't rape you, did he?”
The word sent a jolt through my body and Cash's hand froze its stroking of my hair. “No,” I said, the word firm, a little horrified.
“Didn't think so,” he said to himself, brushing through my hair and I had to fight to keep my eyes open. “Sleep, baby.”
“'Kay,” I heard myself say and my eyes drifted closed easily.
Just before sleep claimed me, I heard a low chuckle. “I think I like you better all drugged-out complacent,” he mumbled, but I was too tired to yell at him, so I didn't.
–
I woke up slowly, my body feeling sluggish, my brain feeling like it was wading through mud to get a thought to form properly. My eyes opened, squinting at the near-darkness of the only vaguely familiar room and I moved to bolt upward, disoriented. The stab through my ribs had me yelping loudly, as I lie back down and brushed a stray tear off my cheek.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” I whimpered, the pain returning fast and furious, taking me by surprise and completely overwhelming me.
A light flicked on and I turned my head to see Cash leaning against the doorjamb. “Waking up is the worst,” he said quietly, pausing before he moved into the room. “Drugs wear off?”
“Everything hurts,” I admitted, surprising myself more than him. That wasn't something I did, sharing how I was feeling, not even when I was hurt. I didn't do that. It was admitting weakness.
At my words, his face fell slightly and I wished I could suck them back in and see the jovial, carefree Cash again. “I ordered food,” he admitted, surprising me. “You want to take a shower first?”
God, how did he guess so right so easily?
“Yeah,” I admitted, clenching my teeth and getting up out of bed.
“Easy,” he said, reaching for me when I swayed on my feet. “You ain't gonna impress me by being all badass so take your time.”
I flashed my eyes at him though inside, I was grateful. I followed him into the hall and through to the bath and watched as he rummaged around in his linen closet and pulled out: two towels (yes, two, as if he knew I would need one to wrap my hair up in), a toothbrush in its packaging, a brush, a small basket full of first aid supplies, and a spare t-shirt that would work as a dress despite how tall I was.
“Clean up, get your face cared for, then call me up here and I'll wrap your ribs.”
“It's fine. I can...”
“Sure you can,” he agreed, but his lips were twitching, like he found my inability to accept help amusing. “But I can do it without hurting you and I can do it tighter so you don't wince every time you take a step. So call me or I'll just let myself in in ten minutes.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, avoiding my reflection in the mirror above his sink.
“Get your scrub on. I'll go wait for the food.”
With that, he was gone and I went through the process of stripping off my clothes and unwrapping my bandages. I slipped out of my panties, turned the tap on hot, and poured hand soap on them. I wasn't a particularly high maintenance woman, but I absolutely refused to wear panties two days in a row without a wash. I went into the linen closet and found a blow dryer buried in the back and placed it on the counter. It would work for a makeshift clothes dryer.
I kept my face out of the water as I showered, slathering on soap and shampoo
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