Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“Yeah, sweets, I know,” he replied, his expression softening.
He started to lower his mouth to mine, and I placed a hand on his chest and shook my head to stop him.
“I just threw up,” I told him, covering my mouth, realizing my breath had to be horrid.
His brows drew together. “Pregnancy?” he asked.
“I saw some things.”
A stricken expression came over his face. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
He turned then, and I saw him wince. His leg. I’d forgotten. I wrapped my arms around him as if I could hold him up.
A small smile tugged at his lips. “My crutches.”
I let him go, then bent down to get them both, handing them to him, hating seeing him like this. “How did you break your leg?” I asked as he walked with me back toward a black SUV with a man standing outside of it, leaning on the hood with his arms crossed over his chest, watching us.
“Shot. Not broken,” he replied.
I stopped. “Shot?” I asked, horrified.
He paused and looked at me. “I’m fine, sweets. It’ll heal faster than a damn break.”
“Who shot you?”
He scowled then and glanced at the man who was no longer in front of the SUV, but opening the back door.
When King looked back at me, he sighed. “Gage.”
I frowned. Why would Gage have shot him? Weren’t they on the same team or whatever?
“Let’s get in the Escalade,” he said. “Cleanup is about to be here.”
They had a cleanup crew for this kind of thing?
I followed him to the vehicle and let him get inside first wanting to help him if needed. Then I climbed inside closing the door behind us. The other man was now in the driver’s seat.
He turned his head to look at me. “Nice to meet you, Rumor. I’m Wilder Jones.”
I managed a smile even though I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Gage had shot him. “It’s nice to meet you too,” I replied.
“Come here,” King said to me as he stretched his arm out on the back of the seat.
“Will I hurt you?” I asked, looking down at his leg.
“No, sweets,” he assured me.
I scooted back, and his arm came around me to pull me so close that my head was resting on his chest. He kissed the top of it.
Wilder began to drive away as I lay there, letting the relief completely sink in. I was with King. We were both alive. I closed my eyes, inhaling his smell. This was where I always wanted to be.
“Why did Gage shoot you?” I asked as I traced patterns on his abs.
“Because he’s a dickhead,” King replied.
I decided not to push it. Maybe I didn’t need to know.
• Twenty-Eight •
Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Rumor
Maeme was out of the door the moment we made it to the porch, throwing her arms around me.
The tight hold she had on me as she let out a, “Thank you, Jesus,” left me with the urge to tear up and laugh at the same time.
I was positive Jesus had had nothing to do with my being here. There was nothing Christlike about the slit throats and trophy eyeballs that Gage had pulled from his pocket.
“Doc is downstairs, working on stitching up one of the boys from Mississippi and giving another one a blood transfusion, but he’s already got the ultrasound machine set up and is waiting on us,” she said, patting my arm as she pulled back and looked at me with watery eyes. “But you’re here, and you are okay.”
I turned back to King, who stood there with his crutches, and noticed the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes now that we stood under the light of the porch. He looked pale and weak.
Panicked, I let go of Maeme to turn to him. “You need to lie down. Get off your leg. Sleep,” I told him, wrapping my arm around his waist.
He chuckled. “Sweets, I’m not lying down without you. And I sure as hell am not letting you go down there and have an ultrasound without me.”
“But you look pale and like you might pass out,” I argued.
“I’m fine. Stop worrying and get your sexy ass in that house.”
“Come on now. We will see to both of you,” Maeme said, opening the door and ushering us inside.
King was good with crutches, I realized. Really good. I had a feeling this wasn’t the first time he’d ever used them. I walked beside him as we followed Maeme to the stairs leading to the basement.
Then, she paused and glanced at King. “Do you need the elevator?”
He shook his head. “I’m good.”
Elevator? I hadn’t known there was an elevator.
She didn’t argue with him, but I wanted to demand he use this elevator. I turned to look back at him, and he grinned.