Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I don’t think you’re gonna need stitches, but I’m getting our doc here. He needs to look at Bex anyway,” he told me, glancing over at her.
I followed his eyes with concern. Bex met mine and she winked. Winked. Had I tumbled down the rabbit hole?
“You have a doc?” I asked in disbelief.
Asher nodded.
“One that has experience patching up bullet holes?” I continued.
Asher looked at me. “Yeah, flower. Not that he’s going to be patching up any bullet holes tonight.”
I gaped at him once more. “Um … hello?” I waved at him, then pointed at Dylan, who was steadily leaking more blood, it didn’t look life threatening from here, but three years of nursing school weren’t for nothing. He needed a doctor.
Asher’s hard gaze followed me. “A man who did that to you, to Bex, isn’t getting any medical help from me. He’ll be lucky to leave with his life.”
I stared at him for a long moment. The man who’d treated me with unbelievable tenderness was showing me what wearing that cut meant. I looked at Bex, brutalized like my mother. I looked back at the body that had caused it.
I pushed past Asher, only being successful because he wasn’t expecting it.
I knelt beside Dylan, using all my effort to push his body face up to examine his wound. I may not have finished my nursing degree, but I knew how to stop someone from dying from a bullet wound. I hoped.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Asher asked urgently at my side, trying to pull me away from Dylan.
I moved my gaze away from the wound in his shoulder to glare at Asher for a split second.
“I’m making sure he doesn’t die,” I replied icily.
Asher stared at me. “It’s a flesh wound, he’ll be up and abusing more women in no time,” he stated sarcastically.
“Unless you do the ‘right thing’ and put a bullet in his skull?” I asked with fake sweetness.
“That’s my vote,” Lucky put in from the sofa.
“I’d be partial to the bullet in the skull option, too,” Bex added in, blowing my proverbial socks off. I knew Bex came from a rough background, but I didn’t think condoning murder would be something she’d be doing.
I ignored them, putting pressure on the wound with the pashmina from our sofa.
“Dude, that’s my favorite pashmina, it’ll be ruined now,” Bex whined.
I ignored that too, putting my fingers to his wrist to take his pulse.
“Lily, I don’t want you here, near him, touching him,” Asher clipped.
“Well, sweetheart, we don’t always get what we want, it’s character building,” I replied, mentally thinking about what else I could do at this moment.
Lucky’s laugh pierced through the tension of the current moment.
“Shit, brother, you gotta watch the quiet ones,” he joked.
Asher didn’t smile.
“I’m not letting him die. And you’re not killing him,” I ordered.
Asher continued to stare at me.
I didn’t think I’d have to have an argument with my boyfriend over someone’s life.
“He hit you and Bex,” he clipped.
“I’m aware,” I said sharply. “But it’s not up to us to decide those actions require his life to be ended,” I continued coldly. “He’ll have what he did on his soul, you don’t need it on yours.”
Asher gave me a long searching look, and it seemed demons danced beyond his eyes before he sighed.
My entire body relaxed.
“You know where he lives?” he asked Bex.
She nodded. “South side of town, near Aimless,” she replied, talking about an infamous bar which had regular shootings. One I steered well clear of. One Bex visited many times in the past, where she met Dylan incidentally.
Lucky and Asher both cursed simultaneously.
“What?” I asked, recognizing something change in their demeanor.
“Nothing,” Asher replied quickly, too quickly. “We’ll get him out of here, educate him on the fact he’ll never be coming near either of you again. He does, I’ll kill him myself,” he promised with a hard glint in his eyes.
We stared at each other, me swallowing the bitter taste that he was serious. That he’d end his life. That he was prepared to. That violence was a way of life for Asher. That death was. It came with the cut. With the club.
“I’d like to order a pizza delivery,” Lucky’s voice shattered the moment as he spoke into his phone. “Yeah, I’ve got a big old hankering for pepperoni, one that’s gonna need a van to deliver,” he continued strangely. “Yeah, at Lily’s place. See you in twenty.” He hung up and glanced at me and shrugged his shoulders at the obvious confusion in my gaze. “Couldn’t exactly say I’d clipped some gangbanger, and needed a body dump. Phones might be tapped,” he said casually. “We do not want our friends at the ATF coming to this party.”
Once more, I found myself hurtled into the reality of being involved with Asher. The reality of phone tappings, speaking in code, and ATF.