Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
And pointing his gun my way.
“Fuck,” I breathe, as Danny and James start to fire at him, along with everyone else, sinking hundreds of bullets into his body as I turn Pearl away, using my body as a shield, my eyes clenched closed, my arms tight around her.
Bang, bang, bang!
My body jolts.
Fuck.
But . . . no pain.
The gunfire stops, silence falls.
And then Pearl suddenly feels heavy in my arms. I turn her, scanning her face, watching as her eyes widen, looking straight into mine. Ice glides through my veins. “No,” I whisper, seeing blood on her tank. She slumps forward into me on a rattly gasp. “No,” I say, catching her, holding her weight. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” I find her face, holding her head up. “Pearl?”
Her eyes slowly close.
“No!”
74
BRAD
* * *
I have no fingernails left. My son in one room, my love in another. One conscious. One not. One alive, one—
I grit my teeth as I rake a hand through my hair, naturally scanning the room for something to hit. I don’t know if my swollen hand will sustain another punch of a wall. “When the fuck will they let me in?” I growl, sitting down, standing back up, then pacing some more.
“Brad, you’re making me dizzy,” Beau murmurs quietly, reluctantly. If any one of the boys passed such a comment, I’d launch them into outer space with my damaged fist. But Beau? No.
I stop at a wall and lean into it front forward, resting my head on the plaster. “I feel like I’m going insane.” She’s been in surgery for hours. I don’t have specifics on blood loss, but I saw the car seats when I climbed out with her. And I can see myself now. My jeans are bloodstained. Visions of Pearl’s bloody torso, her pale face, her blue lips, all plague my mind.
“The surgeon said he’d come to talk to you immediately,” Beau says, right before I feel her hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be okay.”
I close my eyes and wish for it. Be okay, be okay, be okay. “What if she’s not?” I saved her from her tormentor and couldn’t protect her for more than a half hour. Pathetic. This feeling inside, the overwhelming pain in my chest, it’s making breathing hard. I won’t be able to breathe at all if I lose her. My heart starts beating faster, my pulse throbs in my ears, and my breaths become short and fast. As if demonstrating what life will be like without her—a struggle to breathe.
I turn, stressed, panicky, and Beau sees it, reads all the signs. She pulls me to a chair and shoves me down, forcing my thighs apart and pushing my head down between them. She crouches in front of me, holding my hands as I concentrate on my breath. Not saying anything. Just being there. Patient. Waiting for me to realign myself. It takes a solid five minutes, and by the time I’m breathing less rapidly, my lungs hurt, and my drying clothes are damp again.
Beau turns my hand over, inspecting the damage. “This needs seeing to.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s double the size.” She sighs and rises, sitting on the seat next to me, checking the cut on the side of my head. “I’ll get a doctor.”
“I don’t want a doctor.”
She exhales her impatience. “Then let me clean you up.”
“If you must.”
“I’ll be back.” She goes to the door, meeting Rose on the threshold. She’s carrying an overnight bag.
They exchange one of those god-awful sympathetic smiles and a few quiet words. “I’ve brought you some clean clothes,” Rose says, putting the bag on a chair and pulling out some fresh jeans and a T-shirt. “The nurse said there’s a shower room down the hall you can use.”
“I don’t want a shower.” I stand and yank my T-shirt over my head and push my jeans down my legs. “The surgeon might come.”
Rose doesn’t argue, covering her face with my T-shirt while I get out of my boxers. “Your hand needs looking at.”
“You mean with all those words you and Beau whispered at the door, she didn’t tell you she’s gone to get supplies to clean me up?”
She lowers the T-shirt slightly so I have her eyes. “We’re worried about you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about Pearl. Where are my clean boxers?”
“Oh.” Rose turns, kneels, and starts rummaging through the bag. “I know I put some in.”
“Any time today,” I mutter, placing a hand over my dick.
“Damn, where are they?”
“Rose, babe, I’m feeling a little vulnerable here.”
She looks back, remembers herself, then quickly looks away again. “Are you sure they’re not caught up in the jeans?”
I frown and pick up the jeans from the chair, shaking them out.
Just as Danny walks through the door. His eyes pass slowly between me—standing butt-naked, a pair of jeans in my hands—to his wife, who is kneeling in front of me. His eyebrows rise. “Your wife forgot my boxers, so looks like I’m going commando.” I step into the jeans and pull them up, grabbing the T-shirt from Rose’s limp hand.