Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Shithead,” I muttered, rowing back to the stairs.
This time I grabbed the railing and hauled myself up, tying the boat next to all the others that were there before heading up the stairs toward where Raven was waiting.
“I think I should’ve changed,” she muttered, looking down at her pants that were stained with dirt from when I’d pushed her to the ground earlier.
“You’re fine,” I told her. “At least your clothes don’t have blood on them like mine do.”
I pointed to the back of my arm where a piece of rock had ricocheted and gouged into the meat right above my elbow, and her eyes widened.
“You’ve been shot!” she screeched.
So loudly, in fact, that the front door opened and three men filled the doorway, guns in hand.
Raven jumped and flew backwards, going down two steps to crowd behind my back, her cute little face peeking out over my shoulder.
“It’s okay, Raven,” I patted her hip. “They’re not going to hurt you.”
“I never said that they were,” she muttered.
“Then why are you hiding behind me?” I asked her.
“Ummm,” she hesitated, her voice high and unsure. “Because they have guns?”
I snorted.
“That’s a pretty darn good read,” Casten offered as he replaced his gun in the holster underneath his arm.
I grinned at him and took a hold of Raven’s hand, pulling her inside with me.
“Dante and Travis here yet?” I asked them as I walked inside, relief hitting me when I didn’t automatically see them staring at me with those cold eyes.
“No,” Peek said from behind us as he closed the door. “They haven’t made it yet.”
“Good,” I muttered, dropping Raven’s hand and pointing to the kitchen table that was directly across the room from us. “Go take a seat. I’m going to clean this arm up and be right back.”
“You can’t even reach your arm,” Raven countered as she refused to sit. “I’ll come help you.”
I looked at her, studied her determined face, and then shrugged. “Whatever.”
Peek, Mig, Casten and Griffin, my fellow Uncertain Saint members watched us leave with varying degrees of uneasiness following our retreat, and I made a mental note to ask them what crawled up their asses when Raven wasn’t in the room.
Something was wrong, and they wouldn’t be talking with a stranger in their midst.
“Where’s the first-aid kit?” she asked the moment we arrived at the hall bathroom.
She elbowed her way inside, then started to open cabinets without waiting for me to tell her where it was.
“Top shelf, first cabinet,” I pointed to the one directly across the room, and she nodded as she hustled toward it.
She pulled it open as I started to unbutton the shirt I was wearing.
Once the last button was undone, I hung my cut up on the back of the bathroom door, then tossed my flannel shirt in the corner of the bathroom by the door before pulling my t-shirt up over my head.
I tossed it on the floor, too, and turned around and held my arm up to get my first good look at the wound.
“Glass,” I told her. “There’s still some in it. Just a small cut.”
“How do you know?” she asked as she pushed up beside me and squinted at the mirror.
I grinned at her and twisted so she could look at the wound itself, instead of the mirror, causing her to moan in pain at the sight of my cut.
“It’s not a cut, it’s a fucking gunshot wound,” she growled.
“No, it’s not,” I said. “It’s likely some sort of ricochet that I received while I was covering you,” I informed her.
Dropping down until I could get my elbow under the faucet’s water flow, I washed it none too gently with soap and water.
“I’m not sure that’s the way it’s supposed to be done,” she watched me. “You’re getting your boobs wet.”
“I don’t have boobs,” I retorted.
She grinned.
“You have pecs. Man breasts,” she chattered as she watched me clean my wound.
It was then I realized she was nervous with me.
Whether it was because of the wound I’d sustained, or the fact that she was in a locked, close quarters space was beyond me.
Likely, it was a little bit of both.
I wasn’t sure, but I stepped back to give her room anyway, just in case she was feeling trapped.
The moment I stepped backwards, her eyes snapped from her contemplation of the granite countertop to my eyes, then immediately went to work on my arm.
“Turn around,” she ordered, twisting her finger around to help me understand what she wanted to do.
I grinned and gave her my back, placing my hand out onto the counter to give her easier access without her having to lean into me.
“It looks like it hurts,” she muttered as she poked at it. “Does it hurt?”
I gritted my teeth. “Not at all.”
She laughed at me as she pulled out the alcohol as well as the cotton balls.