I nod. “I’m okay.”
“All right. Well, you will tell me if you want to talk, right?”
I nod again. “Of course.”
I grab some painkillers and toast, and rush back up the stairs. Tyke is sitting on the bed when I get in, finished with his bath.
“How’re your legs feeling?” I ask, rushing over. He’s wearing only his boxers again.
“A little better.”
“Here.” I hand him the goods, and he swallows the painkillers.
“I have this cream; it’s good for muscles,” I say hesitantly. “I can rub it on your legs . . . if you like.”
His eyes flash to mine. “You want to rub my legs?”
I laugh unexpectedly and he grins.
“All right, little one, go for it.”
I stand and find my purse, then I pull out my muscle cream. I’ve used it on my own muscles before, because sometimes they hurt. I don’t know why and neither do the doctors, but it helps. I walk back over and kneel in front of Tyke, then I squeeze some cream onto my palm and gently press it to his skin. He flinches.
“Does this hurt?” I say softly.
He shakes his head. “Nah.”
He’s lying, but I don’t stop. I gently rub the cream in and slowly grip his muscles, moving over them in slow, deep circles. Tyke grunts, in pain or pleasure I don’t know. He shifts a little and I go off into a world all on my own, rubbing the cream into his skin, up and over his calves, over his knees and to his thighs.
When I move up, I realize that he’s . . . oh . . . oh gosh. My cheeks burn and I pretend I don’t notice, but I did . . . I do. He’s hard. He’s . . . aroused. There’s a solid rise in his boxers and he’s looking to his left, his jaw so tight he looks angry. I remove my hands and stumble backwards, losing my balance and landing on my ass. Tyke turns and then moves quickly, reaching down and taking my hand, pulling me up. Then we both lose our balance, and I topple backwards again, only this time he comes with me. He stops his body crushing mine by putting his hands down. I gasp and squirm, but stop quickly when I feel the hard pressure between my thighs. That’s him. Oh God, that’s him. I stop breathing, he stops breathing, and our eyes meet.
“Pippa,” he rasps.
I open my mouth to say more, but a throat is cleared in the doorway. Our heads swing around and see Krypt standing in the space, smirking. Tyke pushes off me and turns, jerking his jeans on. I scramble up to my feet and look anywhere but at Krypt, who is no doubt enjoying the scene presented in front of him.
“You two having fun?” he asks.
“I, ah . . .” I swallow and rush towards the door. “I have to go home.”
I run out before he can say anything else. I rush down the stairs, and blurt to Maddox, “Can you take me home?”
He narrows his eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
He studies me, then shrugs and stands, grabbing his keys. I say a quick goodbye to everyone, and just as we’re walking out the door, Tyke and Krypt appear. Tyke is fully dressed, his cut fitting snugly on his shoulders. Our eyes meet and my cheeks burn. I turn quickly and rush out. I don’t know what happened, but it was . . . nice.
Maddox throws me a helmet when we reach his bike, and I pull it on, climbing onto the bike behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist, and close my eyes, and he zooms off.
It doesn’t take him long to arrive at my apartment, and I quickly climb off. I’m about to rush inside, but there’s a question I have wanted to ask Maddox for a while now. I don’t know if it’s appropriate, considering what he and Santana have already done for me, but a huge part of me needs to know.
“Hey Maddox?” I ask.
He leans against his bike and crosses his arms. “Yeah?”
“I wanted to ask . . . I mean, I know you’ve done enough for me and—”
“Pippa, spit it out, honey.”
I nod and swallow. “There was a guy that was at the, ah, tobacco farm when I was there. He got taken before I left, but . . . he was . . . he was my friend. I just wanted to, ah . . .”
“You want to know if he’s still alive?”
I look up at him. “Yes.”
“You got a name?”
I blink. “Pardon?”
“A name? His name.”
“Oh, his name is Rainer Torrence.”
Maddox nods. “I can look into it, I have a lot of information about the slaves Artreau was running. I know a few people—I might be able to get the information.”
“I don’t want you to do anything dangerous, or . . .”
He steps forward. “Pip, it’s fine. I won’t put anyone in danger.”
I nod. “O . . . o . . . okay.”
He smiles. “Go inside and rest up. I’ll send Tana around to check on you later.”
“Okay.”
He winks at me and then climbs onto his bike and rides off. When he’s gone, I walk up to my house, my heart still pounding.
These last few days have been challenging in so many different ways. I’m still not sure if they’re bad ways, or good ways.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEN – Pippa
My stomach twists and I press a hand over my mouth, trying not to throw up again. I’m sick. I’m guessing it’s just a stomach virus, but when I’ve got nothing to fall back on, it sucks my life away. I’m already skin and bones—throwing up every meal isn’t helping.