Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Yeah?”
“Your message is getting lost in your mess,” she said, making my brows draw together.
“What?” I asked, looking at her.
“My grandfather always used to say that when me or Triss was being dramatic.”
“You think I’m being dramatic?” I asked.
“You seemed like you had it all under control,” she reasoned. “And I didn’t exactly miss that there was a gun in the glovebox when I shoved my bra in there,” she said, lips twitching a little. “Also, I’m not killed, hurt, or traumatized.”
“It’s recent. Give it a couple minutes to sink in.”
“Are we doing that whole trying to cross the bridge before we get to it thing?” she asked, brow quirking up. “If I have a little breakdown about it in an hour, we can deal with that then. But maybe I won’t. And then you’ve been worrying over nothing,” she said as Triss bounced out of Che’s car and came to get her sister.
She really did seem like she was going to be fine.
I, however, felt like complete shit.
“Here,” Che said, reaching down to grab me under the arm, helping me up.
Pain-eating adrenaline sapped, I was feeling the way I had needed to twist and turn in my seat, making my already achy ribs feel like they’d been pummeled again. My wrist was throbbing too, from needing that hand to grip the wheel while I shifted.
I needed a pain pill and some rest.
“Thanks,” I said, exhaling hard as I gained my feet. “What is it?” I asked when Che hovered.
“Just wondering about the driver,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t remember you mentioning anyone else who was a precision driver working for either organization.”
“There hadn’t been. But, to be fair, I was the one doing the risky moves and shit tonight. They were just trying to keep up. I can’t say for sure there were actually any skills there, just balls.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed, following me into the house.
The other guys had stayed back there, wanting to look around, see if they saw the car anywhere. Something told me they were wasting their time. But I knew Huck wanted to be thorough.
When we got inside, the pizza and Chinese that had been ordered earlier was scattered on the kitchen table, but Eddie was at the counter, already hard at work on some comfort food.
“You know what your honey likes when she’s had a stressful night?” Eddie asked.
“No,” I admitted.
“Grilled cheese,” he said, shaking his head like he was disappointed. “How am I supposed to knock her socks off with a grilled cheese?” he asked.
“Well, you could try making tomato soup to dip it in,” I suggested as I grabbed a bottle of water, so I could go take my pills.
“Now you’re thinkin’,” Eddie said, smiling, happy to have something to work with.
I knew what he was going to make me. Mac & cheese. And no one made it as well as Eddie. Not even that damn mac & cheese food truck that was so popular in Miami that made it all sorts of fancy ways.
I grumbled my way up the stairs and down the hall, finding Triss and Maeve’s door closed, then opening my door.
Then there she was.
Sitting off the end of my bed.
Looking for a private place to break down, maybe?
“Stop looking at me like I’m thin glass on the verge of shattering,” she demanded. “I wanted to redo your bandages. The ones on your legs look loose.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Think I need a shower before I redo them, though,” I said, feeling sticky.
“Are you allowed?”
“Yeah. Ama said that after a few days, I could shower fully so long as I didn’t get too much soap in the rashes.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll get the water warm.”
I didn’t expect—couldn’t even have hoped—her to stay with me after a moment, giving me a knowing head nod when I hissed as I tried to unwrap my elastic bandages that seemed like they were holding my ribs together.
The damn plastic wrapped around my casted hand wasn’t helping the struggle.
“Let me help,” she suggested, brushing my hands away, then grabbing the edge, and unwrapping me, standing so close that I could smell that creamsicle smell that clung to her.
When she was finished, she winced a bit as her hand moved up to flatten over the bruises on my side over my ribs.
“I didn’t think they would still be so bruised,” she said, her fingers lightly teasing over the spot. Which was inconvenient. Because my cock misconstrued any touch from her as sexual, and it started to harden immediately.
Either innocent to this knowledge, or just ignoring it completely, she began to unwrap my arms, then legs, before standing again to reach for my pants and underwear, working them down my legs.
There was no mistaking my desire then as my cock stood there, thick, aching for her, even though I’d just had her.