“I couldn’t let you kill yourself. It isn’t the right way.”

“What would you know about the right way?” I cry.

“More than you think.”

I tremble violently as he carries me down the halls. Everything is spinning, nothing makes sense. Everything in my world has been turned upside down, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I feel sick with fear at the idea that I considered, even for a second, taking my own life. What about Eric? How could I do that to him? How could I be so selfish?

Hendrix takes me to his room, and he lowers me onto the sofa. Then he turns and heads out to the hall, sticking his head out and barking something before turning and coming back into the room. He kneels down, gripping my shorts and tearing them clean off. I scream and squirm, but he doesn’t stop. He lifts a shirt from the ground, and presses it to my leg. The pressure hurts, and I find myself pleading with him to stop.

“I’m saving your leg, stop fighting me.”

“You tried to kill me,” I wail.

“I tried to stop you killing yourself, now lie still,” he orders, “or I’ll make you lie still.”

I sob, and close my eyes, feeling tears flow down my cheeks. I feel sick inside; I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I’d take three rounds with Kane again over being in this situation.

“I only grazed you. A couple of stitches and you’ll be fine.”

“Why stop me?” I whisper, my voice having given up. “You don’t care about my life. Surely you have other things to sell, just let me have it my way.”

“No,” he says simply.

His fingers glide up my thigh, and for a split second, I forget the pain. He grips the top of my thigh, and turns me so he can get better pressure on my other leg. He doesn’t move his hand when he stops moving me, and my entire body aches. The burning in my other thigh stops me feeling too much, but I don’t stop, not even for a second, feeling that hand on my thigh. Hendrix lifts his head, his eyes meet mine, and something passes between us. I don’t know what it is…maybe it’s understanding? What could Hendrix possibly understand about me?

His finger begins moving in a gentle soothing circle, and he doesn’t move his eyes from mine. My breath hitches, and I struggle to steady out my breathing. Hendrix’s brown eyes scan my face, like he’s looking for something he’s sure he’ll never find. He almost looks desperate. When his eyes fall back on mine, I feel his fingers squeeze my thigh…almost reassuringly. I don’t understand him. I don’t think I ever will.

“Cap?”

Hendrix jerks his hand off my thigh, almost guiltily, and then quickly stands up. He doesn’t meet my gaze again, simply turns to the blond woman standing in the room. “Stitches. She needs about three.”

She turns her gaze to me, and narrows her eyes. She’s big, busty and blond. She’s not ugly by any means, but she’s not stunning either. With a growl, she walks in and over to the sofa. She kneels down, removing the shirt off my thigh and staring down at the wound. “Two should do it.”

I close my eyes, feeling my stomach turning again.

I don’t open them until she’s finished and gone.

Then I turn to my side, and I close my eyes.

I don’t want to see anyone.

“You’ve earned yourself extra watch,” Hendrix grunts later that night after I’ve woken up.

He stands in front of me, holding a towel. He thrusts it at me, and crosses his arms. Jackass. I slowly sit up, and my leg throbs. The blond girl used antiseptic, and I hope sterile equipment, but it’s slowly starting to wear off and ache. I feel sick inside for resorting to pressing a gun to my temple. Would I have pulled the trigger? I really don’t know, but for a moment, just a moment, I felt a weakness I’ve never felt in my life, and never plan on feeling again.

“If you think I’m going to try and escape after that experience, you’re very wrong,” I hiss, trying to control my body while it desperately attempts to expel the nothingness in my stomach.

“Doesn’t mean I trust you. You’ll stay in here, with me. I’ll have a watch for you when I’m not in here. I don’t trust you down in those cells, and I need to get you looking a bit healthier before I sell you to Chopper.”

Chopper?

The name has my skin crawling.

“Please, reconsider…” I say, lifting my eyes to meet his. There has to be something inside him I can use to make him stop.  I saw it for just a moment earlier, when he shot me. It was there…

He crosses his broad arms across his chest, and standing like that he looks incredibly handsome and powerful. God, he’s dangerous; it’s written all over him. From the way his muscles rip and move when he does, to the way his clothes hug his hard, firm body. His hair is loose this afternoon, and it hangs down to the base of his neck in thick waves. He has the kind of hair a woman would envy. The gold hoops in his ear glimmer. How can he be so beautiful, and yet so completely awful?

“All the pleading ain’t goin’ to change my mind. I have debts to pay. Don’t take it personally.”

“Don’t take it personally,” I snarl. “You’re selling me to someone who is likely to use my body however he wants, but you don’t want me to take it personally?”

He growls. “Listen, girl. I suggest you stop questioning my motives, and start learning to shut your mouth. I am not beyond hangin’ you off the side of the ship and lettin’ the sharks have a go at catchin’ you.”