Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Run-in? Dad, they blew up my fucking bike.”
His eyes widen. “And you’re just now telling me this?”
“I didn’t exactly leave on good terms.”
“Like I give a shit about that, Dempsey. If you have problems, you come to me. I will solve them. You know I’d do anything for you kids.”
It’s relieving to hear this. Deep down, I know it, but it’s easy to forget when they’re always on my ass.
“The first run-in was when I won the bike in the first place,” I admit with a huff. “That was an actual run-in that turned nasty.”
He listens with rapt attention as I replay that night. When I mention Gemma’s involvement, his features turn murderous.
“I won that shit fair and square.”
“So this is all over a bike?”
“Hardly.” I scrub my palm over my face. “Sloane’s nephew, Trevor, is mixed up with them. She’s been investigating and trying to find him. Her sister’s boyfriend was wearing a leather cut with their club patch on it. I think those motherfuckers felt like she was meddling in their business and wanted to teach her a lesson.” I pin Dad with a pleading look. “Can you do something about them? They need to rot in prison.”
“I’ll have Jude pick apart their entire organization and do what I can. In the meantime, you and Sloane need to stay away from them. The two of you should come back to the house to stay where it’s safe.”
At this, I scoff. “Right. So Mom can smother us in our sleep?”
Dad frowns, disappointment etching his features. “You know good and damn well your mother lives and breathes for you and Gemma. That would hurt her deeply if she thought you felt that way.”
Do I think Mom will literally kill us? No.
Do I think she could make my life a living hell by constantly throwing our “betrayal” in our faces? Yes.
“You know,” I mutter. “I wasn’t trying to be outrageous or reckless or whatever it is you guys are thinking. I didn’t seek out Sloane just to piss you off or hurt Mom. I love her, Dad. I fucking love her.”
Dad’s eyes soften as he regards me. “You didn’t give us an opportunity to understand.”
“Mom didn’t give me an opportunity to get my point across.” I blow out a harsh breath. “Sloane’s it for me. I want to be with her. If that means having to choose, I’m going to choose her, Dad. I’ll choose her over everything.”
Dad nods in understanding. “I can respect that and I can see how serious you are. Your mother, well, she’ll need a little more time to come around to this idea. Just don’t shut us out. Please.”
Before I can say anything else, Sloane whimpers from the bed. I bolt out of my chair and over to her. Her blue eyes peek out from her cracked eyelids.
“Dempsey?”
“I’m here, babe. I’ll always be right here.”
A ghost of a smile dances over her lips. I dip down and press a soft kiss to her mouth.
“Wait… Where’s…?” She scrunches her eyes shut as if to clear away a fog. “Aisha.”
The other cop.
Her partner.
I shoot Dad a panicked look because I have no idea. My only concern was Sloane. Dad approaches the bed and gently pats Sloane’s foot through the blanket.
“Aisha is fine, Sloane. Dr. Crow said the bullet grazed her arm but didn’t do any significant damage.”
Sloane starts to cry, clearly overjoyed with hearing that her partner is going to be okay. Dad slides a chair over to me and allows us our privacy. I hold on to Sloane’s hand, listening to her cry and hoping like hell I can mend my girl back to health soon.
“I love you, Sloane Thurman.”
She nods and mouths back a similar sentiment.
We’re going to get through this.
We’ll get through anything as long as we’re together.
Sloane
Getting shot hurts.
Like really, really hurts.
Now that I’m back home and don’t have the good stuff being pumped into me whenever a flare of pain happens, I’m noticing the pain a lot more than I did for the first couple of days in the hospital.
Thankfully, I have Dempsey as my nurse. He’s great about feeding me, making sure I’m comfortable, keeping me company, and cheering me up. Plus, he’s easy on the eyes and rarely wears a shirt, which prevents me from getting bored.
Aisha: Girl. These kids think I’m on vacation. They’ve asked me to take them to the park a dozen times this morning. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m already eager to go back to work.
Smirking, I reply to my partner.
Me: Every time I get bored or anxious, I just look at Dempsey’s abs.
Aisha: Pictures or you’re lying…
“Aisha wants a picture of your abs,” I tell Dempsey, who’s in the kitchen.
He saunters into the living room and flexes, flashing me a cheesy grin that makes my heart squeeze. I snap a picture and send it to her.