Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 164346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“Ryat!” I gasp, running to him.
“Blake,” He mumbles my name when my body connects with his.
I wrap my arms around him, and he stumbles back. His hands go to my hair, but he doesn’t hug me as tight as I do him.
“Whoa!” Tyson grabs my arms and yanks me free of Ryat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, wiping the tears that run down my face. I didn’t even realize I was crying until now.
“We gotta get them to the plane.” He snaps, helping a pale-face Ryat over to the couch. He sits him down and I see he’s bleeding.
“Oh my, God. Is he going to be okay?” I ask panic gripping my chest. What happened? Did Matt shoot him again?
“I’m fine,” Ryat coughs out.
And the look that Tyson gives me says the opposite. “Ty—”
He places his hands on my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “I need your help, okay?”
_______________
“I’M GOING TO get Matt on the plane and secured, and then I’ll come back and get Ryat,” Tyson informs me.
“Okay.” I nod, running my hand through Ryat’s dark hair while his head rests in my lap in the back seat. “I can’t believe you,” I say angrily. He shouldn’t have even come. He wasn’t ready to leave the hospital.
“You were in trouble,” he manages to wheeze out.
“You’re right. You are in trouble,” I snap at him. “Putting your life in jeopardy. Again.”
He coughs. “You did it … too.” Pushing off my legs, he rises.
“Ryat! You’re supposed to wait …”
“I can walk, Blake.” He shoves the car door open and gets out.
“Shit!” I jump out on my side and run around the back just in time to see his knees buckle. “I got you.” I grab his arm and wrap it around my shoulders, holding him up.
“I told you to wait!” Tyson snaps at me, running down the stairs from my father’s private jet.
“It was his idea!” I growl, tattling on my husband like a child.
Coming up to us, Tyson grabs his arm and takes my position. I help the best I can to get him up the stairs and into the plane, but I feel like it’s more of those better jobs for one person sort of thing.
“Open the bedroom door.” Tyson gestures with his chin to the back of the plane.
I run ahead of them and shove it open, holding it while he helps Ryat inside. He sets him on the edge of the bed. “Stay right here.” Then he looks at me. “Don’t let him lay down. Keep him sitting up.” Before digging into his pocket, handing me a pocketknife. “Cut his shirt off him.”
I nod, taking it. “Okay.”
“Blake,” Ryat whispers when I just stand here.
“I know,” I sniff and fumble with trying to open the damn thing. I drop it on the floor. “Shit.” And pick it up.
He reaches up, placing his bloody hands on my shaky ones. My eyes meet his—he looks exhausted. “I’m sorry.”
He frowns.
My throat closes. “For this ... for you. I did this …” Sniffing, my bottom lip begins to tremble.
“No. You didn’t, Blake.” He shakes his head once.
A tear runs down my cheek. “Thank you for saving me.” I’m still having trouble believing he’s alive in front of me. I’ve seen the vision of him laying dead on the cabin floor too many times to now accept this is real. That I get another chance to be with him.
“I told you.” He gives me that Ryat smirk. “I’ll always find you.”
The door to the room opens, and Tyson enters once again with a bottle of scotch in his hand and pills in the other. “Take these.” He shoves them into Ryat’s hand and then opens the bottle before also handing that over. Then his hard blue eyes look at me. “I need that shirt off!”
Carefully, I cut down the front of it, making sure I don’t cut Ryat on accident. Once I’m done, Tyson rips it off the rest of the way and tosses it to the floor. “Stand in front of him. I’m going to need you to hold him in place.”
“What do you mean in place?” I rush out.
But he ignores me and climbs onto the bed and sits behind him. “Ryat, man, I gotta close this up.”
“I know,” he acknowledges before taking another gulp of the liquor.
Tyson opens up a briefcase of some sort, and my eyes widen when I see what’s in it. But I’m not sure why. I should have expected this kind of shit on my father’s private jet since he’s a Lord. I’m sure this situation happens often when they go on assignments. “I have a needle and thread, but that’ll take too long. My other option is staples—”
“Burn it,” Ryat growls, interrupting him. “Cauterizing will be the fastest way.”
“What?” I ask, that panic gripping my chest. “No. There has to be something …”