Well, the pain in my arm was easing, I realized a moment later. Now that I wasn’t so consumed with the wound, I began to realize the rest of me was in pretty bad shape. Bruised, as if I’d been in a car wreck. My back throbbed—I must have jarred it when I ducked—and my thigh muscles were clenched tightly.
“You’ll be weak from blood loss, so take it easy.” Erik applied a final layer of gel. Thankfully, this one seemed to neutralize the cream’s smell. Then he wrapped my upper arm in white cloth.
“Do you have any painkillers?” I asked. “The paste is working, yes, but the rest of me is aching now.”
“Yes,” was all he said.
“Well,” I prompted. “Can I have one?”
He shook his head, and two locks of honey-colored hair fell over his forehead. “Nope. Sorry. The painkillers I have will put you to sleep, and I need you to stay awake.”
Uh, hello. “Sleep good. Awake bad.”
His lips inched into a small smile that he tried very hard to hide. “Your body will catch up to your arm, I promise. Besides, I don’t want to have to carry you to your room. Your dad might not understand.”
My shoulders slumped. Yeah, that was true. My parents would freak if they saw a boy sneaking into my room. No matter the reason. Forget disappointment. They’d go ballistic. They wouldn’t care that Erik had saved my life.
Thinking of the things he’d done for me confused me and warmed me all at once. I truly didn’t understand how he could so coldly involve me, how he could be a drug dealer, and yet, in the end, treat me so sweetly.
Sometimes good people have to do bad things. God, how many times would that play through my mind? What exactly had he meant by that?
I must have closed my eyes and drifted to sleep (bad Camille) because the next thing I knew, a cold wet rag was pressed against my cheek. Erik cleaned my face with gentle strokes, wiping away the makeup I’d spent an hour applying. His doctoring hadn’t hurt like he’d said it would. He’d been as tender as a person could be.
I might never understand him.
With that thought, my mind faded back to black. I was floating. No, not floating. I was snuggled in Erik’s arms, being carried back to the car. His arms were strong and comforting as the warm night air enveloped me.
He sighed, and his equally warm breath caressed my cheek. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”
5
We didn’t make it very far.
The ride began smoothly enough, and, as promised, my body did catch up with my arm and stopped throbbing completely. I was still weak, but at least I was no longer in such agonizing pain. I didn’t fall back asleep, though. Couldn’t. I hadn’t come up with another place to go, so Erik was taking me home. Fear held me in a firm clasp as I imagined my parents’ reaction when they saw me.
God, what was I going to tell them? I’d wondered before, but now that I was so close to actually seeing them…
“Can you take me to a motel?” I asked, desperation finally giving me an idea.
“Decided you don’t want Mommy and Daddy to know what you’ve been up to?”
I didn’t answer. “Would you?”
“Do you have money?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. Besides, I wouldn’t feel right leaving you at a motel.”
He wouldn’t feel right about it? I stiffened, but I didn’t point out all the crappy things he did feel right about.
Seeing my renewed tension, he asked, “You doing okay?” His gaze brushed over me as surely as a caress.
I shivered—and the shiver pissed me off. Damn it. I had to stop reacting to him. Bad boys and their lives of crime weren’t for me.
“Camille?”
“I’m fine.”
He sighed. “No, you’re not. I can hear the anger in your voice. Just tell your parents that you fell at your friend’s house, you decided to come home, and she brought you. Simplicity always works best when you’re lying.”
Knowing my dad, he might try to sue my made-up friend to pay for damages.
“Whatever you do,” Erik continued, “don’t mention the club. And don’t mention gunfights.”
“I’m not a total idiot.”
“Well…”
“Not all the time,” I snapped.
He chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”
Just a few hours ago, that comment would have sent me into a tailspin of euphoria. Now it—sent me into a tailspin of euphoria, I realized. It shouldn’t have, but there it was. I couldn’t hold back a grin.
The hottest boy at school thought I was cute.
You are an idiot. “How are you going to get home?” I asked when I found my voice, the dilemma just then occurring to me. “You can’t keep Shanel’s car.”
“I know. Didn’t plan to, since your friend could have already reported it as stolen and I’m eager to get rid of it.”
Shanel was with Silver. She’d probably forgotten all about the car. Still. Better safe than sorry. I did not need the police looking for me, and I did not need one more supposed crime hanging over my head. “Let’s call her and double check.”
Without a word, Erik reached in his pocket and withdrew a small, black cell unit. He handed it to me. I dialed Shanel’s number, but she never answered. I tried again. Still nothing. I didn’t leave a message on her voicemail because I didn’t want her parents overhearing.
I handed the phone back to Erik. I’d call her again in the morning, tell her that I had the car, and then meet her somewhere and give it back. Although, how I’d explain that to my parents, I didn’t know.
“You never answered my question,” I said to Erik. “How are you going to get home?”
“I’ll walk,” was his unconcerned response.
“Uh, that’s going to be quite a hike.”
“I know, but the exercise will do me some good.”
He didn’t need any more exercise. He was already stacked with muscle, his tanned skin stretched tight over hard steel. “You told me you were twenty years old,” I said, peering at him through the thick shield of my lashes.
“Yeah. So?”
With the pain gone, my brain kicked into gear. “How’d you manage to get back into school? I’m pretty sure I know why, I just can’t figure out how.”
He shrugged, the action stiff. The line of his jaw ticked. In anger? In irritation? Both? “The more you know about me, Camille, the more danger you’ll be placed in. Stop asking questions.”