think he's more than okay, since he couldn't wait to get a blow job the minute I rejected him.
I nod again, clear my throat, and croak, “Couldn't wait to get rid of me.”
He laughs. “Sounds like Noose.”
Perfect. My stomach boils like it's filled with acid.
His eyes narrow, looking at my face, then he seems to think better of saying anything. “Follow me. We'll get you home all safe and sound.”
Safe and sound.
I don't think I'll ever feel safe again.
11
Noose
“The hearing's on Tuesday.”
Wring nods. His blond buzz cut leaves his ears sort of stranded on the side of his head, and scars litter his scalp like small cutouts of pearly flesh. He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. “So we've got Trainer on her.” Wring shrugs. “He's not going to leave her, Noose.”
I know that. But fucking Diablo will not take our interference lying down. There will be retribution.
I want Rose to know I'm there for the bullshit hearing. I've got her back. Even if she told me to leave.
Hard to swallow— even if she doesn't want to fuck me. My lips thin into a grim line. Her body sure wants to fuck me. But that's not enough.
I want her mind. I want her will.
I want Rose.
Lifting my cell, I wag it at Wring. “Trainer says she's at her parents’.”
“She'll be there awhile. Explaining what's gone down,” Wring says.
I bet she'll leave out the version of my tongue in her pussy and the fingers. An image of Diablo’s fingers in Rose's pussy has me fucking pissed again.
Wring studies my face, only the rumble of our bikes in the background. We're about three blocks from Rose's parents’ house. I'm hanging out, thinking of what I've got to do.
“What?” Wring asks. His eyes look like twin discs of shadows in his face. The streetlight from across the street doesn't reach our position.
“Thinking about what we came in on back there.”
“Chaos?” he asks in confirmation.
I nod. I toss the cig butt on the ground and grind it under my heel. “That fucker Diablo—didn't look like he was hurting her.”
Wring glances away for a second then back at me. “Word is, that fucker is psycho.”
“Tell me something new. Fucking rapist,” I spit.
“Not exactly.”
My head snaps in his direction from scanning the street, waiting for Rose's little car to cruise past. “Explain.”
Wring swings his palms up inoffensively. “Listen, man—it's the word. But seeing how Rose was getting it, seems to be true.”
“If you don't tell me what the cryptic fuck you're talking about in the next two seconds, we're gonna go.”
Wring snorts. “Fine, ya prick. First, Diablo is a rapist. He likes to be one of many. Team player.”
“Not funny.” I swirl my finger, urging him to go on.
He agrees with a nod. “So he turns the girls on. Just works their bodies until they're so turned on, they finally let him rape them.”
I jerk my head back. “How is that rape?”
“It is.” Wring taps his head. “It's a mental thing, form of torture. Think about it. Girl gets kidnapped. Scared out of her fucking mind. Then she's made to get all fixed up, gets splayed out in front of a bunch of men she doesn't know.”
My memory flashes on Rose's sexy outfit, the hair, and the makeup. “Go on.” My fingers burn with adrenaline and anger. I have no outlet.
Wring's eyes flick to mine. “We know how long a human being takes to burn through the fight-or-flight response.”
Neither of us says anything. We don't need to.
“Diablo is somewhat skilled in this area, apparently. He plays with the pussy, gets the girl wet—while shame is there—fear, anxiety. But all those emotions are heightened ones. That's what makes it so bad. It's the sheer unexpectedness of it.”
I can't stand it. “So Rose was turned on?” I growl.
“Don't kill the messenger, Noose.”
I hop off the bike, letting it run. I pace the shadowy sidewalk. Night took the day down in one swallow hours ago. I whirl, remembering Diablo's glossy
I nod again, clear my throat, and croak, “Couldn't wait to get rid of me.”
He laughs. “Sounds like Noose.”
Perfect. My stomach boils like it's filled with acid.
His eyes narrow, looking at my face, then he seems to think better of saying anything. “Follow me. We'll get you home all safe and sound.”
Safe and sound.
I don't think I'll ever feel safe again.
11
Noose
“The hearing's on Tuesday.”
Wring nods. His blond buzz cut leaves his ears sort of stranded on the side of his head, and scars litter his scalp like small cutouts of pearly flesh. He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. “So we've got Trainer on her.” Wring shrugs. “He's not going to leave her, Noose.”
I know that. But fucking Diablo will not take our interference lying down. There will be retribution.
I want Rose to know I'm there for the bullshit hearing. I've got her back. Even if she told me to leave.
Hard to swallow— even if she doesn't want to fuck me. My lips thin into a grim line. Her body sure wants to fuck me. But that's not enough.
I want her mind. I want her will.
I want Rose.
Lifting my cell, I wag it at Wring. “Trainer says she's at her parents’.”
“She'll be there awhile. Explaining what's gone down,” Wring says.
I bet she'll leave out the version of my tongue in her pussy and the fingers. An image of Diablo’s fingers in Rose's pussy has me fucking pissed again.
Wring studies my face, only the rumble of our bikes in the background. We're about three blocks from Rose's parents’ house. I'm hanging out, thinking of what I've got to do.
“What?” Wring asks. His eyes look like twin discs of shadows in his face. The streetlight from across the street doesn't reach our position.
“Thinking about what we came in on back there.”
“Chaos?” he asks in confirmation.
I nod. I toss the cig butt on the ground and grind it under my heel. “That fucker Diablo—didn't look like he was hurting her.”
Wring glances away for a second then back at me. “Word is, that fucker is psycho.”
“Tell me something new. Fucking rapist,” I spit.
“Not exactly.”
My head snaps in his direction from scanning the street, waiting for Rose's little car to cruise past. “Explain.”
Wring swings his palms up inoffensively. “Listen, man—it's the word. But seeing how Rose was getting it, seems to be true.”
“If you don't tell me what the cryptic fuck you're talking about in the next two seconds, we're gonna go.”
Wring snorts. “Fine, ya prick. First, Diablo is a rapist. He likes to be one of many. Team player.”
“Not funny.” I swirl my finger, urging him to go on.
He agrees with a nod. “So he turns the girls on. Just works their bodies until they're so turned on, they finally let him rape them.”
I jerk my head back. “How is that rape?”
“It is.” Wring taps his head. “It's a mental thing, form of torture. Think about it. Girl gets kidnapped. Scared out of her fucking mind. Then she's made to get all fixed up, gets splayed out in front of a bunch of men she doesn't know.”
My memory flashes on Rose's sexy outfit, the hair, and the makeup. “Go on.” My fingers burn with adrenaline and anger. I have no outlet.
Wring's eyes flick to mine. “We know how long a human being takes to burn through the fight-or-flight response.”
Neither of us says anything. We don't need to.
“Diablo is somewhat skilled in this area, apparently. He plays with the pussy, gets the girl wet—while shame is there—fear, anxiety. But all those emotions are heightened ones. That's what makes it so bad. It's the sheer unexpectedness of it.”
I can't stand it. “So Rose was turned on?” I growl.
“Don't kill the messenger, Noose.”
I hop off the bike, letting it run. I pace the shadowy sidewalk. Night took the day down in one swallow hours ago. I whirl, remembering Diablo's glossy
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