Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Vienna

I would never, ever take a hot shower for granted again. Hell, I wouldn't take running water for granted again. Soap. Toothpaste. A hairbrush. All the things that made you feel human.

I knew I was hogging all the hot water, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to care as I scrubbed and scrubbed at my skin with the woodsy-smelling soap Riff had lent me.

The dirt was all off of me after the second or third scrub, but I kept scraping at my skin. Four, five, six, seven times, wishing I could get the feel of him off of me.

Eventually, I had to fight back those thoughts just to be able to stop scrubbing before I made myself raw.

Then I brushed and brushed and brushed my teeth and hair before slathering on lotion and lip balm that immediately burned, thanks to how chapped they were.

And, finally, I got into new, warm, soft clothes that completely swallowed me up.

That still didn't feel like enough, though. So when I found more layers in the bags Raff provided, I slipped those on too. And the blanket. Before, finally, I felt a little more, I don't know, safe.

I knew Riff was going to need to talk to me eventually. When he'd left me to go make his phone call, it had been all I could think about.

What was he going to do with me now?

Would he just drive me to the next town, drop me off, and wish me well?

My heart twisted at that thought.

Being left.

Being alone.

Being unprotected again.

"Okay," I said as he carefully dabbed ointment around my ankle with a cotton swab.

"You don't have to talk about it with me," he started, reaching for a roll of gauze, then carefully pressing it over the ointment. "But I know… things happened to you. And that you might want to talk to the police about that, get a report filed, get them—"

My head was already shaking the second he mentioned cops, but he finally seemed to notice the motion and glanced up.

"No?" he asked.

"No. No, I don't… no."

I knew what that involved. I'd had a friend in high school who'd been assaulted by two boys at a party when she'd been only seventeen.

The police had asked horrible questions about what she'd been wearing, how much she'd been drinking, what she may have said to the boys to lead them on.

As if any of it was her fault.

Then they'd said things about how she really had to think about what she was saying, because her words could completely ruin those boys' futures. And that she better be really sure all of this happened, because they would take it to court, and she would have to go on the stand, and tell the whole courtroom every little thing that happened to her.

I couldn't do that.

I could barely even think about it, let alone say it aloud. I definitely couldn't repeat it over and over for the police. For a lawyer. For the court. With him sitting right there in the courtroom with me.

I just… couldn't.

Maybe that made me weak, but I didn't care. I'd been strong enough already.

"Okay," Riff said, nodding. "It's your decision. I just want to make sure you've given it some thought before—"

"I've had nothing to do but think about it," I cut him off, tone sharper than I'd intended, and I saw it in the way his brows shot up, but he was quick to school his features into indifference.

"Okay. That's fine. I'm not trying to persuade you in any direction. I just wanted to give you the options."

"What are the others? Options?" I clarified as he taped off the gauze, then carefully slipped my sock back over my foot.

"I could take you anywhere you want to go. Back to your hometown—"

"No," I said, tone frantic, mind racing with images of being stolen right from that town. Nothing about it would ever feel safe again.

"Okay," he agreed, like some part of him knew I would say that. "I can also bring you back to California with me," he offered. "I know we just met—"

"Yes," I cut him off, tone borderline frantic.

"Yes?"

"Yes. That's the option I want," I said, holding his gaze.

He was holding his own thoughts back, I could see it in the way his dark eyes brightened, but he nodded. "Okay. Then you can come back with us. Fair warning, it's a bit of a road trip still. We try not to drive for more than ten or so hours a day. So it could be two, two and a half days before we get there."

"That's okay. The further away from here, the better," I said, hearing a door slam outside, and jumping despite myself.

"Hey," Riff called softly, waiting until my gaze slid to his. "No one is ever going to put a hand on you again without your permission," he vowed.

And, what's more, I believed him.

Raff came back ten minutes later, arms loaded down with bags, and the scent of food made my stomach churn hard, despite the fact that I'd likely consumed more since knowing Riff than I had in a week.

"Vienna is going to come back with us to California," Riff said to his brother as he started to separate out the food, making me realize just how much I'd ordered without really giving it any thought. It must have cost a small fortune.

"Yeah? Road trip buddies," Raff said, all charm.

I appreciated how they did that. Made everything seem like it was no big deal, even if I imagined my presence complicated a lot of things for them. From food budgets to lodging, and, eventually, the situation back in California.

But I was choosing not to think about those things right then as I pulled the lid off a pile of perfectly golden French toast wedges. Then another container of a Belgian waffle topped in strawberries and bananas.

I had sides, too. Breakfast sausage, bacon, eggs, and hash browns.

It was more than I'd eaten in months. And there was no way I could eat even a third of it. But I was quick to plow in, shoving forkful after forkful into my mouth, barely getting a chance to taste the food before I was pushing more down.

It wasn't long before my stomach was stretched to bursting, creating a pain I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Fan of breakfast foods?" Raff asked as he shoved a slice of bacon into his mouth.

"It's my favorite," I admitted. "My grandma used to make a big spread every Sunday. It was my favorite day of the week."

"Back home, we have a club brother, Detroit, best cook in the fucking state, I think," Raff told me. "Think he could make you a spread that would make your grandma proud."

"Do you guys cook?" I asked, glancing over toward Riff who'd polished off his whole breakfast platter. Because he had let me have all the food from the cabin.

"Never had a chance to learn," Raff admitted. "We're always in motel rooms. And our old man didn't really cook. He barbecued, but that was about it. Do you cook?"

"A little," I said, though it almost felt wrong to say that in the present tense, since I hadn't cooked anything in months.

Riff started to clean up, tucking my leftovers into the mini fridge in the room, then gathering his clothes for a shower.

"While Riff takes a shower, I think I am gonna go run a couple of errands," Raff said. Though I had a feeling he didn't actually have anywhere to be, just sensed that I would feel uncomfortable alone in a motel room with him when Riff wasn't in the same room. Which was really sweet.

In fact, being around these two men was the safest I'd felt in a long time.

So when Riff went into the bathroom, Raff went out of the door, and I got up to lock it before I got into the bed, making a cocoon with the covers, pillows, and the blanket and squishy stuffed kitten Raff had brought for me.

It was the warmest I'd felt in so long.

I felt my eyes immediately starting to get heavy.

But a few moments later, the bathroom door opened, letting out puffs of steam and the rich, woodsy scent of Riff's soap, the same scent that was currently clinging to me.

He didn't come out, was just trying to clear the steam, it seemed, as he stood inside the bathroom facing the mirror, dressed in a pair of low-slung, lightweight green plaid sleep pants.

The whole of that tattoo on his arm was on display, and I found myself wanting to know what else was mixed into the sleeve, if he had any silly tattoos like that slice of pizza his brother had.

From my cocoon, with nothing but my eyes and nose exposed, I found myself watching him as he dug out a toothbrush and paste, and got to work on his teeth before reaching up to run his fingers through his wet hair to push it back from his forehead.

Then, well, then he turned.

I mean, I guess I assumed he was fit. He'd effortlessly run through the woods. And he'd even carried me for hours without seeming the least bit bothered by the extra weight.

I just hadn't seemed to think about the lean, taut muscle that might be below his clothing.

The breadth of his chest, the corded biceps, the indents of abdominal muscles, and the two cuts near his hips that disappeared into the waistband of his pants.

He reached for his shirt, making all those muscles twitch and flex, and I felt something I didn't think my body would be capable of ever again.

A flutter of desire.

Primal, undeniable.

But absolutely horrifying to the part of my brain that was so tormented and traumatized.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the sensations to go away, as I listened to Riff clean up the bathroom, then make his way out into the bedroom.

He flicked on the TV, but lowered the volume down, likely thinking I was asleep, and not wanting to wake me.

Eventually, there was a light tap at the door, and Raff got up to let his brother in. There was the rustling of plastic bags and the click of the door and slide of the locks.

"She asleep?" Raff whispered.

"Yeah," Riff answered. "I think she's probably going to be doing a lot of that," he said.

"Did you get a chance to talk to her?"

"Yeah. She doesn't want to go to the police."

"I'm not surprised," Raff said. "I mean, she'd have to be poked and prodded, tell someone all that shit over and over. Maybe even go to court and face that motherfucker…"

"Yeah," Riff agreed. "He has to pay, though."

"He will," Raff said, sounding certain. "I'm sure Slash just wants things to calm down before he lets us come back to clean up."

"Yeah," Riff agreed. "It will give us a chance to get Vienna settled, too. Around some of the girls who might… know what to say or do. I don't know what she needs to hear."

"I dunno. I think you're doing something right. She's comfortable with you. Even after everything she's been through, and how much she must be scared of men, she's okay with you around."

"Maybe," Riff agreed. "I'd be happy if that was the case. But I think we need to really pay attention over the next few days. Dunno how being trapped in a car is going to go. Might feel like she's being held again."

"We can take it slower than usual if we need to. I got all the maps out," he said. "Did a little research on a burner. Lots of road work going through the usual route through Texas and New Mexico. Figure that means a lot more cops than we'd be comfortable with. So, that leaves a route that cuts up through Colorado."

"The weather might be a risk this time of year," Riff said. "But it's early still."

"Bonus points for Vienna getting to see some bison and moose."

Under the covers, I felt my lips curve up ever so slightly at his words, that he would think about what sights I might enjoy at all.

As much as some part of me was afraid that I would always look sideways at men, would always fear the worst from them, these two seemed to be proof that there were some good men still around too.

I drifted off to sleep to the sounds of their voices as they plotted the exact route, complete with fuel stops and food and rest stops, and the hotels or motels where we could spend our nights.

It was practically a lullaby.

And I fell into a deep, peaceful, dreamless and fearless sleep.