Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 04 - Strings of Glass by Emily Kimelman Read Free Book Online Page B

escaped.”
    Dan
wrapped his arm around me and I cuddled closer into his
body. “I bet those guys look like shit right now,” he said into my
hair.
    “You
know me too well. But I didn’t get them all. I lost a van and two guys on a
scooter.”
    “What
do you mean ‘lost’?”
    I just
shook my head thinking of the dark figures that chased us through the fields,
their faces obscured. Dan kissed my hair.
    I heard
the shower turn off and sat up. “I should put some pants on.”
    “Here,”
Dan leaned across the bed and handed me my sarong.
    I looked
at it, the simple piece of cloth I’d worn almost every day for the last three
months. It was sun-stained, faded, and soft. I
shook my head. “I think I need real pants,” I said,
standing up and heading to my dresser.
    “I’ll
admit I like the look,” Dan said behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and
he was staring at my ass.
    “Dan!”
    He
looked up at me. “What?” he said with a shrug. “You pull up on
that bike without pants on and wearing
a leather jacket, what do you want from me?”
    I
laughed feeling something loosen in my chest as I pulled out a pair of jeans.
Slipping into them I said, “I guess that’s sweet.”
    “Damn
straight it is,” Dan said, standing up. He wrapped
his arms around my waist and kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry about
earlier.”
    “Yeah,
me too,” I said.
    “Let’s
not do that, OK?”
    “Do
what?”
    “Fight,
you know, couple stuff. Let’s not.”
    I
grinned up at him. “You read my mind.”
    He
leaned in for a kiss but the squeak of the bathroom door broke his attention
from my lips.
    Anita
stood in the doorway, steam floating around her. Her long black hair was combed
straight. My teal blue linen shirt was a little snug but fit her well enough.
She’d had to roll the cuffs of my pants and they hung loosely around her hips.
Anita held her ruined top and my jeans in her hands. The bruises on her face
looked painful and raw.
    “Here,
I’ll take those,” I said, stepping around Dan. I
dropped the kurta into a plastic bag and put my jeans in
the laundry pile.
    Dan
stepped toward the door, giving Anita as much space as he could in the small
hut. Noticing his move, Anita grimaced. “I’m
sorry,” she said, “for
reacting like that.”
    “Please,
I totally understand,” Dan smiled at her.
    “Sit
down,” I said. “We need to tend to your face.”
    Anita
smiled painfully. “It does look quite awful, doesn’t it?”
    “Here,”
I refilled her glass. “For the pain.”
    She sat
on the bed and sipped at the whisky.
    I got
our first aid kit out and rummaged around until I found the things I needed.
After dabbing sterile gauze with alcohol I reached out and held Anita’s chin
lightly, tilting it up into the light. They’d done a real number on her.
Anita’s left eye was cut at the eyebrow, her nose was swollen,
and crusted blood still clung around her nostrils. Her top lip was split open.
    “Did
you lose any teeth?” I asked.
    “No,”
she said,
looking up at me. Her eyes were almond shaped, a brown so rich they looked
black, with long eyelashes. When not beat up I bet she looked real pretty.
    Gently I
cleaned the wounds, she winced against the pain. “Dan,” I said,
“grab
me some of the stuff we’ve been using on Blue.”
    Dan
moved to the desk and grabbed the bottle of cream, handing it to me. I put a
little on a Q-tip and slathered it onto all of her open
wounds.
    “Ice,”
I said. Dan went to the mini fridge and I heard the popping of cubes from their
tray. He wrapped them in a washcloth and handed the bundle to me.
“Here,” I said, placing the pack against her eyebrow first.
“Hold this there. Twenty minutes, then we’ll move it down to your
lips.”
    She
nodded, reached up and held the cloth to her  face.
    “Did
you know those guys?” I asked, stepping back and picking up my glass. Dan
refilled it and I leaned against the small desk, kicking my feet out in front
of me.
    “Not
by name,”