Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“What the fuck, man?”
“Hop in beside your girl. She’s freaked out. I’ll drive us back to the clubhouse.”
Relief washes over me at his words. “Thanks.”
“Happy to help.” He flashes a grin over the top of the truck and hops in with a grunt. “This truck made for a shortie?”
I laugh. “I’ll be sure to let Ace know you said so.” This truck is his baby, and he doesn’t tolerate insults about it.
“The hospital is the other way,” Maven says over the roar of the engine. “He’s shot, and he needs a hospital, Viking.”
“Viking?” Stone’s lips curve into a grin.
“Yeah. You’re big and blond and slightly terrifying. Now, turn and go the other way. Please.”
“No hospital, Mave. The doctors will report the gunshot to the cops, and I don’t have time for that.”
“But the people that shot you,” she began, and I cut her off with a light squeeze to her thigh.
“They are taken care of, babe. I promise. I’ll take care of the Iron Kings myself.”
“That sounds ominous,” she pouts and folds her arms. “Was Cyrus in there?”
I shake my head to give myself time to figure out how to lie to her without lying to her. I don’t want to hurt Maven after all she’s been through and finding out I put a few holes in him would do just that.
“You kidding me? That asshole ran at the first sign of trouble. He’s probably running toward the border as we speak.”
I let out an agonized grunt when Stone takes the corner too fast, and my arm slams against the door. “This isn’t some Texas back road,” I shout to Stone.
He laughs. “Bald tires, my bad.”
“Talking more shit about Ace’s truck?”
He shrugs. “This ain’t a proper truck, and I’ll be happy to tell him myself.”
“Boys,” Maven shouts. “This is cute and all, but seriously, we need to get this checked out. It might just be a flesh wound, but if it gets infected, you’ll be walking around with one arm.”
I wrap my left arm around her and kiss her cheek. “As long as it’s not my shooting and jacking off hand, I’m good.”
“This isn’t funny, Wilder.” She shrugs off my touch and folds her arms, eyes glued to the road ahead. She’s clearly pissed off.
“This isn’t my first flesh wound, Maven, and it’s probably not going to be my last. I’ll get it checked out if it’ll make you feel better, but not at the hospital. All right?”
She shrugs. “Do whatever you want, Wilder. That’s exactly what you’re going to do anyway.”
“Maven,” I reach out to comfort her, and she puts up a hand to stop me.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m not yours to worry about, but I’m glad you’re not dead. I guess.”
“Ouch,” Stone whispers softly, but in the truck, it might as well be a shout. “I think she’s pissed, man.”
“She is,” Maven says so loudly it echoes in the truck. “She is very fucking pissed. Just take me back to my cell.”
Angry, I can handle, but when she reaches up to swipe away her tears, well, that shit hurts more than the bullet hole in my arm.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maven
“So what you’re telling me,” I start, turning to Wilder and then Stone, “what you both are telling me is that we’re just going to slap a fucking band-aid on this gunshot wound and call it a day?” I shake my head and swipe away tears, shaking with disbelief at how flippant these men are over a gunshot wound.
“Probably a butterfly band-aid,” Stone says, snickering like it’s all a big damn joke.
My hands shake in fear at the danger Wilder is in. “Look, maybe you don’t give a fuck about yourself, your well-being, or your life, but I do. You went in there trying to help me, to look after me, and despite the fact that your MC is holding me hostage, I don’t want you to die.”
Wilder’s eyes darken, and his jaw tenses. “What makes you think I don’t give a fuck about myself?”
A bitter laugh escapes. “You mean other than the fact that you refuse to get any medical attention for a gunshot wound that could quite easily become infected? Gee, you’re right, Wilder. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I’m furious right now, but you know what? Fuck it. If he’s all right dying from a perfectly treatable condition, who am I to intervene?
“Aw, Maven, you’re worried about me.”
I fold my arms across my chest and keep my gaze on the scene through the window, which is mostly concrete and double yellow lines. I’m not worried, I say to myself and gnaw on the inside of my jaw to avoid responding to him.
“She’s mad, dude.” The Viking is far too amused about all of this, and I shoot a glare his way. “Super mad.”
“Should we get her a cape?” Wilder snickers in reply.