Vile King (The O'Dea Crime Family Book 4) by Elizabeth Knox & Emily Sharp

Author:Elizabeth Knox & Emily Sharp [Knox, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knox Publishing
Published: 2022-05-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

COLIN

I suck in a sharp breath as pain ripples up my leg, leaning against the railing heavily. The pain is intense, sharply throbbing with every step I take. Even when I sit down and if I stand up. The only time my leg doesn’t hurt is when I’m suspended in the bathtub.

“Fuck,” I whisper hoarsely, regret staining my tongue. “I should’ve done the physical therapy when it was being offered.”

My lip curls in self-disgust as I stare down at my leg. I can see the gnarly, badly healed flesh that lies under my jeans. Tightening my grip on the railing, I relieve the weight on my leg and exhale in relief.

“It’s not as bad as before,” I mutter, reminding myself of that tiny fact. The pain in my leg had hurt worse a week ago. The alcohol and the pills . . . make the pain worse. “They make it worse, because it’s in my head . . . not in my leg.”

The misery makes the pain.

Straightening to inhale deeply and hold it, I walk through the doors and outside the main facility building. The air is hot, dry, and the sun beats down on me. Suddenly, it’s a little easier to stand, to bend my knee, and I sniffle harshly. A pang strikes my chest, squeezing my heart as I look around at the beautiful scenery. The green, rolling hills and the huge tree hanging off a tiny cliff no taller than myself. It’s like a scene from a movie.

Walking up along a short bridge, I lean against the bright red railing and look out along the thin brook creeping under. Everything about this facility promotes wellness; nothing about this place is unpleasant to look at except the addicted dredges that stay here.

“You’re lookin’ a little scruffy to be standing there, waiting for your husband to come back from the war,” A husky, feminine voice says from my right, and I look over. She’s beautiful, about twenty years too young for me, but beautiful nonetheless. Smiling at me, she braces her forearms on the railing to look out over the scenery. “It’s not even snowing.”

“Do you think it’d help if it was?” I ask. She snorts and shakes her head. Her long, red waves waft in the breeze, and the faint scent of peaches reaches me. I take a breath, watching her out of the corner of my eye. “What’re you in for?”

“To you? Nymphomania,” She grins saucily at me, and I arch a brow. Turning to her, I prop my elbow on the railing to hold my cheek on my fist before she sighs. “No. I drink too much . . . got into coke . . . and found myself doing heroin once.”

She gives a ghost of a smile, rubbing her left arm self-consciously, and my heart stutters. “I know they say sometimes it’s the smallest thing, but . . . doing heroin made me realize how much my party habit spiraled out of control. I mean, doing coke and doing heroin.

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