Page 13 of A Past Too Broken (Bloodstained Love #1)

W hen I open my eyes, I meet a pair of bright blue ones set in a squished, round face, with long red fur. The cat glares at me, despite the fact I’ve done nothing but lie here. Not that I know where here is, exactly.

I’m lying on a bed and my entire body is sore, but my wound doesn’t feel like it’s on fire anymore, so there’s that. I’m assuming I’ve been cleaned up and properly cared for, but the confusion is high.

The cat and I stare at each other as I try to figure it out.

After that bastard stabbed me and left me to my misery, I’d managed to pull myself together long enough to get out of that hellhole. While the wound is rather deep, his angle was shit, so it didn’t hit anything vital. I lasted long enough to find a motel to hole up in. No way was I going home in case he decided to follow me.

After trying to wash and dress my wound and almost passing out several times, I realized I was in trouble. The problem with being a loner and not having any close contacts is knowing whom to trust with something like this. Which is why I ended up calling… Oh fuck.

Just as I remember who I called, the man appears. Zay’s shoulder-length, curly brown hair is loose and damp, as if he’d gotten out of the shower recently. The sight of him in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt sells the theory. The clothes also outline how fucking hot he is.

I knew he was aesthetically pleasing; I’m not blind, and the few brief moments we were close to one another highlighted how well-put together and handsome he is. He has a sharp jaw, golden brown eyes, and dark, expressive eyebrows. His broad shoulders and strong chest fill out his shirt nicely, leading to a tapered waist and strong legs.

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants and he stares at me for a long moment before moving his gaze to the cat. “I see you’ve met Reggie,” he says in a deep, smooth voice.

I look at the cat—Reggie—then back to Zay. “I don’t think he likes me.”

Zay chuckles a little. “Don’t take it personally. Reggie doesn’t like anyone on his side of the bed.”

“Th… this is your place?”

Zay moves closer and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Reggie moves away from me and climbs onto his lap. “Yes, it is. I… I didn’t have any other options, Min. You didn’t give me another choice. You needed care, and it’s not like I could have taken you to the hospital. All the available safehouses are currently out of order or occupied. This was the only thing I could think to do.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or anything, I know I put you in a tough spot. Thank you, Zay. For coming to the rescue.”

He looks into my eyes for so long, I begin to squirm. His golden brown eyes seem to see far more than I ever want them to, and everything in me is screaming that I need to go. I can’t afford to let him get too close.

Except… he already is, isn’t he? From the very beginning, the moment I found out he wanted my kill and I started us down this path of cat and mouse last year… I let him in then, even if it was unintentionally.

Calling him in my hour of need only proved what I tried so hard to deny for so long. Zay’s gotten under my skin, and I don’t think there’s any way of pushing him out—or if I even want to.

“Let me check your wound, and then we’ll get some food in you.”

He helps me lay on my side, and I only flinch a little as he removes the bandage and pokes at the knife wound. “I’m not a medical professional, but I’ve been in this life long enough to know how to patch someone up,” he says.

“So what’s the verdict?”

“You’ll live, but you’ll be out of commission for a while until it heals.”

“No.” I try to sit up, but he pushes me down, and I’m too weak to fight him. “I can’t… I need to finish this, Zay.”

Our eyes meet and he must see my desperation because he sighs and goes back to affixing a new bandage over my side. “Finish what? What’s going on, Min? You’ve spent a year being a bigger pain in my ass than his Royal Fluffy Butt over there, and I think I deserve to know why.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Seriously?” He raises his arms in the air and then drops them to his sides. “You’re in my fucking house. You slept next to my cat all night. What other proof do you need that I don’t mean you any harm? If I wanted you dead, Min, you would have been. Last fucking year when I had you tied up in front of me, the perfect position for a little payback for all the money you cost me by stealing my kills.

“I have no ties to you other than the last year of ridiculousness. I owe you nothing.” He leans over me, his face right over mine, so close his minty breath washes over me, and I breathe his scent in as deeply as I can. “So, you either tell me what the fuck you’re doing, and let me help you, or I’ll reopen that wound and toss you into the fucking snow.”

The tension between us crackles like electricity. My heart pounds hard enough that I wonder if Zay can hear it. His burning golden gaze sets my blood on fire, and I’m almost embarrassed to admit that my cock hardens under his stare.

He must feel it too, as the gold in his eyes turns almost molten, and his dusky pink lips part, tempting me because they’re so close .

Reggie chooses that moment to pounce on me, forcing a cry from my throat. Zay straightens up, cursing as he picks up the cat intent on murdering me.

“Fucking hell. I’m sorry, Min. It’s past his breakfast time.” Zay crosses the room to set Reggie on the ground just outside the door before closing it on him. By the time he makes it back to me, I’ve managed to flip onto my back, tears burning at the back of my eyes from the pain.

Zay doesn’t ask, but pulls the bandage back and inspecting my wound. “Nothing tore, which is good.” He covers me back up. “I have some pain meds that should help dull everything.”

I try to focus on my breathing while he rummages around in the attached bathroom. By the time he reappears with a glass of water and a bottle of pills, the pain has dissipated for the most part and I can breathe normally again.

Slowly, Zay helps me sit up. He shows me the bottle of pills. It’s just over the counter painkillers, but it’s better than nothing.

He shakes a few pills into his palm, and I toss them back with a swig of water.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I’ll go get you some food.” He leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him. The silence is deafening. I almost want to try my luck at getting up and moving to the living room, but some space will be good for us. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.

With a sigh, I try to find a position to lie in that’s comfortable enough and close my eyes. My brain is going a hundred miles a minute right now, questioning every decision I’ve made in the last year, but my body is weighed down by exhaustion. Getting stabbed is a lot of work.

One thing keeps running through my mind, no matter how many times I try to shut it up: despite my protests, I do trust Zay. I don’t know why or how it happened, but something in my lizard brain that was only focused on survival knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. It’s that thought that follows me back to sleep.

* * *

The next time I wake, it’s to the smell of coffee. I let out a sigh of relief, needing the caffeine more than I need to piss.

“Mrow,” Reggie says near my head.

I jump in surprise, which makes me gasp as it aggravates my wound.

“Good, you’re finally awake.” Zay appears next to the bed and helps me sit up. “Need anything?”

“Bathroom.”

“Let’s go.” He helps me out of bed, and if I didn’t wobble as soon as I was standing, I would protest. As it is, it takes all my concentration not to fall over as we shuffle over to the en suite.

He leaves me alone long enough for me to use the toilet, then helps me at the sink once I assure him I’m decent again. I don’t know why that matters. He literally already saw inside me when he sewed me up; there’s nothing left to hide, really.

When we’re back in the bedroom, he leaves for a few moments after I’m settled, only to come back with a cup of coffee and a plate.

“I’m not sure how you take it,” he says, setting the coffee on the nightstand and the plate on my lap.

“Black like my soul,” I mutter, staring down at the omelet in front of me. “You made this?”

“Well, Reggie sure didn’t.”

I laugh, then wince. I can feel Zay’s concerned gaze burning into me, but I don’t look at him. Instead, I pick up my fork and dig into the food.

Zay trades my plate for the mug and I sigh, drinking in the scent of the coffee before I even take a sip.

“So,” he says. “Want to tell me what happened?”

Bringing the mug to my lips, I take a long drink, ignoring the burning sensation of the still-hot liquid sliding down my throat.

“When my mother was nineteen,” I begin, “she emigrated to the States from Japan. She barely spoke English, but she was determined to get away from her too-strict parents. She managed to get a job cleaning offices and the like, one day, she filled in for someone who cleaned a police station.” I take a deep breath and another sip of coffee. “That’s where she met my father. He was older, a detective at the station, and one night, as she was working late, they got to talking. He managed to charm her off her feet, and they were married within six months.

“She thought she landed the American dream. Instead it was our worst nightmare. He kept the monster inside under lockdown until she told him about me. I don’t know if it was because he never wanted children and just conveniently left that part out during the wooing process, or if he got jealous of a yet-to-be born infant for taking up a lot of her time.”

Zay settles next to me on the bed, but I try hard not to focus on him, clutching my coffee like the lifeline it is. If I pretend he’s not here, then it’s like I’m not telling him this.

“Long story short, as I’m sure you can guess what happened once I was born, he turned into the big bad wolf, rather than the prince charming he pretended was. She died when I was nine. Everyone said it was a suicide, but I knew the truth.”

Zay sets his hand on my leg and I release a shaky breath. “Min…”

“No.” I shake my head. “I need to do this.”

“Okay,” he whispers, so low I barely hear it.

“I knew she didn’t kill herself. My mother was the strongest person I ever met. She believed in her dream of living free, and promised me we would, one day.” I swallow around the lump in my throat, letting the tears pooling behind my closed eyelids fall. “I told the police and doctors, and anyone who would listen, what happened. How he beat us for years, and how he always threatened to kill us if we tried to leave.

“They took it seriously—at first. I was put in a foster home for a while so they could try to piece together what happened. And then my foster father started abusing me.”

I open my eyes and look at Zay as understanding dawns in his eyes. “Steve Larson,” he says. “The guy you hid in the closet for.”

I nod. “He had a good reputation with Social Services, but I’m sure that I wasn’t the first. Anyway, my social worker wasn’t too impressed when I told her. I don’t know if you heard last year about the woman who had the ‘heart attack’ in a dressing room at the mall?”

“Jody… something or other, I heard about it because we have a contact at the county coroner’s office who ran her tox screen. There were a few anomalies that he recognized from doing some… mixes for us. He put out a few feelers, but nothing came back, so he ruled it as natural causes and we washed our hands of it all.”

“Yeah. She didn’t believe me, thought I was making it up. And if I did that, then I must have made up the whole ‘my father killed my mother’ thing. She died because she decided I was a liar, as there was no way two people with good standings could both abuse me.”

My coffee is gone, and I look mournfully into the empty mug. Zay’s hand squeezes my thigh and I look up at him, meeting his golden eyes once more. I don’t see pity—thankfully—in them, but sympathy, and maybe a little understanding.

“The other two men were the cops on the case, and they stopped their investigation without second thought. I’ve spent so many years angry at everything and everyone for allowing him to get away with what he did. Not only did he take my mother away, but he stole my childhood as well. The abuse stopped, but the training to be his perfect little soldier began as soon as he got me back—and beat me one last time for old time’s sake, of course.”

Reggie makes his way over to me and I scratch his head, smiling a little at the sound of him purring.

“I planned everything out and executed everything so perfectly. All the kills went off without a hitch… until I went after him.” My breath catches and I close my eyes once more, trying hard to shove my emotions to the side. “I’d gotten cocky, thought because he’s older now he’d be off his game and an easy target… That wasn’t the case, obviously.”

Zay is quiet for a long time after I finish speaking and I wonder if he thinks I’m as pathetic as I feel. When he finally speaks, his voice is gentle, though there’s a hardness to his tone that has me meeting his intense gaze. “Do you trust me?”

“I… Yeah, I do.” And I realize it must be true, after all, why else would I have told him my story?

“Then let me help you.”

“Zay…”

He places the fingers of his free hand against my lips. “Please.”

“Okay.”

He removes both of his hands and I mourn the loss as I watch him stand and pull his phone out. Reggie and I both stare as he makes a call and begins pacing the length of the room.

“Hey, Hollis, I have a job for you…” Zay begins outlining what he needs and… all I can do is hope I’m not making a mistake.