I didn’t expect to see him again, that’s for sure. He didn’t strike me as the type to do what he’s no doubt come here to do. And yet, here he is. Maybe there’s more to Romeo than I thought.
He steps forward. “Are you going to kick me if I come in close enough to give you some water?” In his other hand he’s holding a canteen.
My vision is still wavering, my head still ringing, and my mouth tastes like swamp mud. “That depends,” I say through gritted teeth. “Are you planning on drugging me again?”
“I didn’t drug you then, and I’m not going to now.” Romeo takes another step forward, and I can’t help it—I move backward, the rope rasping across the stone like snakeskin. “And I could clean that graze for you if you let me. I didn’t realize how bad it was when we were on the water.”
I glance down to see what looks like ink in the lantern light staining the side of my T-shirt. Our struggle in the mud outside Molly’s comes flooding back to me, and with memory comes the awareness of pain, flickering up through me like a tiny fire.
He starts to move forward again, and this time I’m snapping back before I have time to think. “You can stay right where you are.”
My fingers clench around the ropes binding my hands. It’s not like I can do anything to him if he comes. Maybe I could sweep his legs from under him, but it wouldn’t be enough to take him out, and even if it was—what then?
But he stops anyway, watching me in silence. After a while he slings the strap of the canteen over his shoulder and crosses his arms. “How’re you feeling?” His smile is insulting.
You dragged me out of my bar, shot me, forced me to breathe chemical fumes, took me into the middle of nowhere, drugged me, then tied me to a post in an underground cave. How do you think I’m feeling?
But I’ll tear my own arms off trying to get free before I’ll give him the satisfaction of an honest reply. I smile back at him, giving it every ounce of malice I can summon. “Just peachy, Romeo. How’s your leg?”
His smile vanishes, and I see the subtle shift of his weight from one foot to the other. I wonder who pulled the hot-pink plastic out of his leg, and if they gave him a hard time for it.
“It’s the least of my problems.”
“Your problems? Romeo, you shouldn’t have brought me home if you didn’t think Mom and Dad would like me.”
“I’ll know better next time.” He tips his head to one side. “Sure you don’t want some water?” He jiggles the canteen so the water sloshes audibly. My mouth suddenly feels like it’s wallpapered with sand.
I want to tell him to go to hell. I want to tell him to get iced. I want to punch that perfect jaw until the smug assurance falls off.
But I want the water more.
I swallow, trying to ignore how dry my throat feels. “You drink first.” Not that that helped me before.
He rolls his eyes, like it’s unreasonable for me to mistrust him. He unscrews the canteen and puts it to his mouth.
I was expecting him to take a sip. Instead he gulps it down with a noisy glug glug of water. When he finally lowers it, he makes a show of squinting into the mouth of the canteen. “Oh, shoot, most of it’s gone now. You want what’s left?”
Only the pain in my shoulders keeps me from trying to pull free of my ropes again. “You’re kind of an asshole, aren’t you? The pretty ones always are.”
He makes a show of surprise. “You think I’m pretty? Why, Jubilee—I’m blushing. Look, you want this or not?”
He’s figured out his devil-may-care attitude pisses me off. My jaw’s clenched so tight I’m half afraid it’s about to break. “What, do you want me to beg for it? Did you come here to gloat?”
He raises an eyebrow, that smug smile turning wry. “I want you to promise me you’re not going to try to kick my pretty face in if I come any closer.”
He’s actually afraid I’m going to hurt him somehow. No wonder they’ve got me tied down so tightly I can’t even sit upright. “What would your buddies say? Scared of a girl tied to a post in the ground.”
“They’d say ‘Don’t go near her, that’s Lee Chase, she eats rebel babies for breakfast.’”
My throat closes a little. Be proud, I remind myself. You want them scared. Might make them think twice before they shoot at your platoon. I inhale sharply through my nose. Bracing. Cleansing. You want them to fear you.
“Don’t have enough leverage to kick you anyway,” I say eventually.
He takes me at my word, closing the gap between us. He’s moving carefully, though, watching me closely for signs I’m about to attack. Maybe I should take advantage somehow, but I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t have the right leverage. I can’t get him, the way I’m tied down.
“I’ll hold it for you,” he says quietly, dropping into a crouch at my side.
“My hero.” The words pop out, dripping with malice, before I can stop them. Mock the guy after you get your water, I remind myself.
He holds the canteen anyway, letting me gulp down the last dregs of the slightly muddy water inside. Their filters don’t work any better than ours do. It still tastes like swamp. When I’m done, he lowers the canteen and rests his elbows on his knees, watching me. Backlit as he is, I can’t make out his features very well. I can only see his eyes, glittering in the gloom, slightly narrowed.