Page 118 of Made for Cyn
Cyn and Bastion speak in low murmurs, but it’s not about any plan that I can glean, and with a frustrated sigh, I close my eyes and try to sleep. Just because the guys are supposedly warning off John doesn’t mean I won’t be sleeping with one eye open, and I’m already freaking exhausted.
I’m only roused from a light doze when we stop at a light in town, and Jig swears beside me. Opening my eyes blearily, I see Iris is out the door and running around the corner before Bastion has time to put the car in park.
Bewildered, I stare after her retreating form, hoping she’s not about to do something stupid, but with Iris, it seems it’s always something stupid, and these guys don’t understand. They’re taking the control she craves right out of her hands.
“What the fuck?” Jig says, and Cyn sighs, turning to look at me over the seat.
“Where do you think she’s going?”
“I don’t know.” I lie. “Maybe she’s scared to go home?”
“Shit, what a bitch,” Jig mutters, and I elbow him in the side.
“Ow,” he says, giving me a dirty look, but I just glare.
“You don’t get it. He’s been raping her for years. More than once, so you don’t get to judge her for taking off,” I exclaim, blinking my eyes to hold back the tears.
Jig bows his head and nods while Cyn swears again and Bastion broods menacingly in the front seat.
Finally, Cyn sighs and says, “Let’s go to Jig’s.”
“What?” I ask, ignoring the relief making me noodly. I don’t think Iris went home, which means I’m stuck with the creep, but I can’t avoid it forever.
What would happen if he called the cops? Would he follow through on his threats? I just don’t know.
“I didn’t like the idea of leaving you there, anyway,” he grumbles, and I sit back with a sigh.
I could argue, but I’m too fucking afraid. I’ll take the reprieve, even though I’m uneasy at the thought that Iris may have gone ahead to take the brunt of it. I sure fucking hope not, though.
???
Jig lives in a mansion, or as close to one as I’ve ever seen, and it’s so at odds with his punk look that I gape between him and the house as we pull up in the SUV.
He just grins and takes my hand when we exit before pulling me along with the guys following behind.
The entrance leads into a foyer with sparkling floors, fancy tufted couches, and pictures of old dead dudes on the wall. But we don’t stop to see more. Jig pulls me up the stairs and down the hall into a bedroom three times the size of mine back at Iris’ house.
A huge bed takes up the center of the room, beside which are two blackwood end tables and a large flat-screen television across from it. Jig must be into Japanese art because pictures of cartoon characters line the walls in formal frames, stark against the white walls and black bed coverings.
“I get first dibs on the shower,” Jig says, dropping my hand and stepping toward an open door next to a tall, stately-looking bureau.
“This house has ten bathrooms,” Cyn says dryly, but Jig just ignores him with a one-finger salute.
Bastion shifts behind Cyn, and Cyn nods, turning to me and saying, “Text Iris and see if you can find out where she is.”
With a sigh, I comply because fuck if he ever lets me say no.
This is Rainbow. Where are you?
I purposely use my full name because she knows I hate it, and I hope she’ll understand that I’m texting under duress. Not that I don’t want to know where she is, but I’m hesitant to share it with the crew.
No worries, I’m taking care of business so we can party later
“She’s not saying much,” I mutter, sick to my stomach at the thought of whatever party she thinks we’re going to participate in. I haven’t forgotten what I backed out of with Saul, and maybe she’s upping the ante, I don’t know, but staring at Cyn helplessly, I fight off a surge of bile.
Obviously, he’s going to hate me when all is said and done, but it’s better than watching him go to prison for the rest of his life. Or worse—dead at the hands of Hate or Jagger?
It has to be because I couldn’t bear it. This is something I have to do with Iris, for her, for me, and for any other girl that creep has ever thought to terrorize.