Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Goddammit, the fight couldn’t be over. I couldn’t be the pussy who passed out. I couldn’t be the stupid little invalid comaed in bed.
Slowly, I shifted on the pillows, moving away from Pim’s stroke.
Christ, that hurts.
She gasped as I groaned under my breath, throbbing with untold agony.
The bed rocked as she threw her arms around me. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re okay.”
Okay?
Of all the different layers of okay, I was at the very bottom of the spectrum.
Fuck, everything hurt.
I didn’t hurt this much when I’d almost drowned in the harbour with an open bullet wound attracting sharks. I could barely think without succumbing to the numbing welcome of sleep.
What the hell is going on?
I didn’t even have the energy to hug her back or inhale her gorgeous scent. Every heartbeat pumped blood into swollen extremities and pain-heated joints. Every wound was on fire. Every atom ablaze.
I wanted to snap my fingers and be well again. I wanted a joint. I wanted Pim alone so I could tame my scrambled sick-infested thoughts.
“Gave us a bit of a fright, Prest.”
My eyes coasted upward. I jolted to find Pim wasn’t the only nurse waiting for my ass to wake up.
Selix gave me a curt nod, his finger still latched around the trigger of his gun even though the muzzle pointed at the floor. “Glad you’re awake. We have a bit of a problem.”
Problem?
I wanted to demand he elaborate, but the metallic corrosion of blood on my tongue and pounding jaw meant I only managed an angry grunt.
He cocked his chin at Mercer standing at the foot of my bed with his wife and child. The other Frenchie, with his gun still trained on me, wouldn’t lower it even when Mercer glowered at him in silent reprimand.
The blonde cuddled up to Mercer.
Never tearing his eyes off me, he kissed her hard, smearing his own blood over her mouth in some sinister declaration of love.
The contents of my stomach roiled from the hypocrisy of his kiss and the arrogant way he stared. He thought he’d won.
The bastard.
He hadn’t.
Not by a long shot.
Round two, asshole.
At least, his face hinted at some damage with contusions and cuts.
Doing everything I could to mask how close I was to passing out again, I hoisted myself up to my elbows. The gunshot wound in my shoulder promised to rip me to shreds if I attempted to swing my fists again. “Th-this—” I coughed, wishing I could eradicate the fever-sweat drenching my forehead and dripping into my eyes. “This isn’t over, Mercer.”
His bodyguard twitched, his gun glinting blackly from the chandelier above. “We’ve all decided otherwise while you’ve been taking a nap in la-la land.”
Mercer’s wife smiled as sharp as her husband, handing over her son. Mercer opened his arm gingerly—almost as if he hurt as much as I did—accepting the squirming, fussy child who thankfully had stopped crying but had blotchy tomato red cheeks.
“It’s done, Mr. Prest,” his wife said. “It’s over.”
“It’s not over until I say—”
Pim slotted herself beside me. “El, please, you can’t fight anymore.”
“Don’t undermine me, woman.” I shot her a harsh glower. “Especially in front of my enemies.”
“Are you so sure I’m your enemy, Prest?” Mercer asked, bouncing his son as if the fact he was still covered in blood and bruises didn’t matter when holding fresh innocence.
I refused to answer that.
He was my enemy, but he was also my saviour from the Chinmoku. Not killing him would be my way of showing thanks if he apologised for shooting me in the goddamn shoulder.
I flicked a look at the raised gun in my face. “Funny you say this is over when you still have your goon training a gun on me.”
Mercer narrowed his eyes at his friend, reeling off snipped instructions in French.
The men argued for a few seconds before the henchman lowered his weapon. He didn’t holster it, though, nor did he put the safety on.
Selix gave him a look, keeping his own gun at the ready.
A truce but not quite.
“It’s finished. Whatever this was, it’s over.” Mercer stared pointedly. “You’ve proven I was wrong, and I’ve accepted that you had a right to attack me in my own home. But you also have to accept that I might have tried to kill you, but by doing so, I just so happened to save your life.”
My eyes trailed to the baby boy in Mercer’s arms. He seemed fascinated by the streak of crimson across his dad’s cheek. Chubby fingers wiggled in the air to reach.
Mercer looked down and smirked as if he knew exactly why his offspring was fascinated with gore.
The seemingly normal domestic moment crippled me. It damn well took away all my power and arguments and memory of why I wanted to slaughter this man.
My fever crested hotter, sicker, sucking me back into a haze.