Crystal Mac: A prologue novella to Captive Series Book 3 HELL'S HILLTOP by J. A. Dennam

of them. “Stop it if you want to.”
    Mac dropped the crushed box and held her awa y by the shoulders. “You know…the blowjob was a nice distraction, but it won’t work a second time.”
    Her brows came down. “Who says I’m offering?”
    “I don’t trust you. Not by a long shot. So, if you’re telling the truth about the pills, you won’t mind coming with me.”
    “Where?”
    “Back to the house. You can explain it all to Derek.”
    Her head fell back. “Please. Not yet. I just want to decompress. Sleep a little.”
    “And you thought you could do that here?”
    “I don’t know where ‘the house’ is, remember?” she reminded him with quoting fingers.
    “But you knew where I lived.”
    She moved a shoulder. “I followed your scent with my dynamic sense of smell.”
    Really? He was this close to giving himself a whiff when her ice-blue eyes rolled beneath the heavy eyeliner.
    “I saw it on your driver’s license, Mr. Macon Reed , three-two-nine Baltimore Court, apartment 2-H, Springfield—”
    “Alright, already!”
    “Did the kids call you bacon when you were little?”
    Yes, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “Get your pills, we’re leaving.”
    “At least I don’t have to call you Mr. Truck anymore.”
    He kind of liked Mr. Truck, but he wouldn’t admit that, either. Mac got behind her and started pushing. “Come with me while I get some shoes on. I’m not letting you…”
    His words trailed off when she hissed in pain. Moisture coated his left palm and he turned it over for a closer inspection.
    It was covered in blood.
     

 
     

     
    “What the hell is this?” Mac growled.
    Crystal tried to wave it away, but the tremble in her voice was poorly masked. “I got scratched back at Lesico. Nothing serious.”
    Mac turned, saw the blackened streak against the white painted cabinets she’d been propped against. “It’s dripping!”
    Before she could come back with another smartass comment, he lifted her top and inspected the wound more closely. All he saw was red. “Jesus.”
    “I’m okay.”
    No more jokes. She never really sounded right since their conversation started, but Mac had chalked it up to fatigue. “Come with me.”
    An impressive array of toddler toys and bath stickers livened up their small, plain, white-tiled bathroom. When the vanity light flickered on, he got a clearer picture of the blood coating half her back. Some old and crusty, some new and smeared, all coming from the three-inch gash above her shoulder blade.
    Nausea began to invade his throat, but he swallowed it back. Blood was becoming a part of everyday life since Crystal had entered it. “Keep your shirt up,” he commanded as he reached into the cabinet below the sink and produced a large first-aid kit. Supplies began to pile up on the countertop: peroxide, butterfly strips, bandages, triple antibiotic cream… it wasn’t enough.
    Mac watched the blood ooze from her body and swallo wed again. “You need stitches.”
    Crystal lowered herself onto the side of the tub. “No, I don’t.”
    He moved a plastic tugboat out of the way, added it to the basket of toys on the floor. “You look like you’ve lost too much blood already.”
    “It regenerates fast.”
    “But you said you gave two pints to Derek Saturday night.”
    She moved her head from side to side, popped some joints. “Yeah, and it didn’t help, but I can’t go to a hospital, remember? Just use the butterfly strips, it’ll be good enough.”
    Mac agreed a little too quickly, since the thought of digging out Melanie’s sewing kit made the tiled room spin. “I wish Mel were here,” he mumbled as he uncapped the peroxide.
    Crystal made a sound of disgust as she shrugged out of her hoodie. “She’s not near as much fun as you are.”
    Again, Mac found himself faced with the boobs. He turned on the bathtub faucet and plugged the drain. “Sit tight, I’ll get you some of her clothes.”
    “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she