Page 46 of Jazz

“I can’t see right,” I murmured, blinking fast, panic curling tight in my chest.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, voice steady. “It’ll come back. You’ve been blindfolded too long, that’s all. Your eyes just forgot the light.”

Forgot the light. That was exactly what it felt like. Darkness had moved in and was now reluctant to leave.

I focused on him again, on the deep shadow where his eyes should’ve been. Slowly, colour found its way in. Brown, gold, the faintest flash of worry that softened the hardness in his face.

When he reached out, the movement was cautious, a test. His fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a piece of hair behind myear, lingering a little too long on my skin, like he didn’t want to let go.

“Better?” he asked, eventually.

“Getting there,” I whispered, though the room still swam, the dark edges of it clinging like a bruise.

“Good.”

Someone groaned from the floor. Movement.

“Then we need to go. Here.” He stood straight, moving, pulling his hoodie off over his head. “Put this on. Your jacket is fucked.”

I nodded, pushing upwards, clutching the tatters of my leather jacket against my chest. The room reeled, spinning like a Waltzer.

“I got you,” he said softly, guiding the material over my head.

Now his scent enveloped me completely and for a moment I was lost in it.

Fingers curled around my hand, gripping carefully, but meaningfully. I stood up. My head spinning, staggering backwards. He caught me, sweeping an arm round my waist.

“I got you, Tiger. But I can’t give you any more time to adjust. You trust me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Good girl,” there was a hint of a laugh in his voice. “

Chase hurried me out of the room. My eyes and my legs were unable to keep up. I was still half blind, staggering like adrunk, missing a step and lurching forward but never hitting the floor, Chase gripping me tightly.

Then the corridor dropped away, double doors at the end and then, through those, a huge open space. The light shone obscenely. Bright white light burning into the back of my eyes and it felt like I was blindfolded again. But when it cleared, I stole glances, catching the thick hook hanging from the chain in the ceiling. They had kept me here for days. Chase had hung me up there and left me dangling. And now his arm was wrapped around me protectively helping me escape. And fuck, I hoped I wasn’t wrong. For now, though. This was all I had. Chase.

On we lurched, through the cavernous space. Chase didn’t stop, his steps becoming more hurried, and mine more laboured. I shook with each movement. Cold. Tired. Weak. Staggering like a newly born calf.

And then we were outside.

The air was cold, grabbing at my face, creeping under the hoodie Chase had given me. I’d been cold where they’d kept me, but in the night, it was even colder. I’d eaten almost nothing for days. No energy to warm my body. Chase handed me a helmet and I took hold of it, staring at it like I’d never seen one before.

“Goes on your head, Tiger.”

“Where’s yours?” My voice stuttered, cold air nipping at my lips.

“Only got the one. You’re wearing it.” He pushed his leg over the bike, his eyes meeting mine. A silent command. And then he patted the tiny excuse of a seat behind him. “Hop up, Tiger.”

It had been years since I’d ridden pillion. And the last time was on the back of Thrash. I’d vowed never again. I looked at the Yamaha and Chase on it watching me, then back at the doors to the building that had been my dungeon. The next time there was a choice I wouldn’t ride in that bitch seat.

The door to the building moved, pulling open. A huge mass of a man staggering out clutching at his side. His eyes were wide with rage and his arms even wider.

“Now, Jazz,” Chase barked.

He was quick on his feet for an injured man.

“You’re fucking dead, Chase.” He shouted.