Page 11 of Morgue
I shot him a look. “Like I give a good Goddamn if you’re fuckin’ fine.” Stitches grinned. Bastard.
“I’m OK, Morgue.” Dorothy looked up at me, reaching up to touch my cheek before pulling her hand back just shy of my beard. Like she thought she didn’t have the right to touch me. “Really.”
“He had no right to say what he did, Dorothy. He’s a fuckin’ doctor. Everyone works through trauma differently. Ain’t his place to say how you deal.”
“I know. I think he does too. Probably said that to see your reaction more than mine.”
“Keep that one, Morgue.” Stitches grinned at me. “You ain’t good enough for her, but if you’re half as smart as I think you are, you’ll convince her you can be so she’ll stay.”
“You don’t know me,” Dorothy said, narrowing her eyes at Stitches. If I’d been in a different frame of mind, or if I hadn’t lost my soul years ago, I might have been amused at how cute she looked. Right now, though, I wasn’t capable of anything other than baring my teeth at the bastard. “I could be a horrible person. Or not very bright or any number of things. You’d really wish a stranger on your friend like that?”
“Honey.” Stitches looked down at her gently. “I’ve been talking with the women who got out with you. They told me how you hadn’t been there as long as the rest of them, but you’d started trying to protect the younger ones the day you got there. One woman said you rarely ate because you gave your scraps to the children. She said none of the rest of them did. They were all just trying to survive. I might not know you, but I know enough about you to know you’re a good person.”
She took a breath. “Let’s table that discussion for another time. Right now, I want this stupid tube gone.”
“All right. Let me deflate the bulb, then I’ll leave you to it.”
Stitches did his thing, then looked at me. “Come on. Let’s give her some privacy.”
“No.”
Stitches scrubbed a hand over his face. “Morgue --”
“No.” Dorothy patted my chest but looked up at Stitches. It was like she knew I was getting ready to lay into the doc again and was trying to soothe the beast inside me. “It’s all right. He won’t look if I tell him not to.”
“You trust him?”
“He saved me. I’ll trust him unless he gives me a reason not to.”
Stitches gave a sigh. “Fine. But I’m sending Iris and Winter. The women are already taking care of the others we rescued. They wanted to be here with you too, but this brute told them he had it covered.”
“Who are Iris and Winter?” Instead of asking Stitches, the bastard, Dorothy looked up at me like my answer determined whether or not she wanted the women there. And I’ll be a son of a bitch if my chest didn’t puff out. Just a little.
“Iris is our president’s old lady. Winter belongs to our enforcer. Winter has a twin sister who is our vice president’s old lady.”
“Why would they want to be here? To size me up?” Then her eyes widened, and she stood up, snatching her hands from my chest. I didn’t like it and a growl escaped before I could stop myself. “President. Enforcer. What kind of place is this?” She took several steps back, stopping only when the rubber catheter between her legs pulled tight where she was basically tethered to the bed. I absolutely could not stand the distance she was putting between us. “I’m not some kind of whore! I know you pulled me out of that hell, but I’m not trading it for another kind of hell!”
I wanted to tell her that, no, this wasn’t the same thing, that any women here were here because they wanted to be. That we took care of our own. And that, by God, she wasn’t fucking anyone but me! I opened my mouth to say just that, but the words wouldn’t come. Not because I didn’t believe them, but because, for some stupid reason, I was… tongue-tied around the woman. There was no other way to describe it. I wanted to talk, to make sense and everything, but I didn’t seem to be able to.
“Morgue?” Stitches asked. “Say something.”
“No,” was all that came out. “No.”
“‘No’ you’re not saying anything, or ‘no’ the women aren’t coming here to make Dorothy do something she doesn’t want to do?” Stitches sounded like he was about ready to throttle me.
“Yes.” Christ. I sucked.
Finally, Stitches took over. “What he means is, the old ladies of our club want to make sure you’re OK. That’s all. They’ll get you anything you need and welcome you into our circle. You do not have to stay if you don’t want to, and no one is going to force you to do anything.” He paused and Dorothy’s gaze shifted to him. Which wouldn’t do. So I moved between Stitches and her. “Jesus, Morgue, you’re makin’ us all look bad. Pull yourself together.”
Then I said the strangest thing. “Mine.”
“All right, Morgue. That’s it.” Stitches clasped my arm and tugged me away. “You’re coming with me, and the women will take care of her.”
“No.” I tried to shrug him off, but Stitches had a good hold on my arm.
“Yes,” he countered. Only the frightened look on Dorothy’s face gave me the strength I needed to allow Stitches to pull me toward the door. “You know she’ll love Iris. The women will explain everything to her and help her feel more like herself.”
“Not leavin’.”