Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
I can barely breathe through my clenched teeth at the pain.
“Go inside,” I try to yell at Addison as she hovers over me. “Now,” I grit out and my words come out weak.
“Daniel, get up. Get up!” she yells at me. And it actually makes me smile.
As I try to stand, with her pulling on me and attempting to aid me, I look back down at my hand. It’s bright red, not black. That’s the first good sign. But when I look down to my chest and see how much it’s still bleeding, the lightheadedness nearly makes me collapse.
“Come with me,” she begs. “We have to go to the hospital.”
“No, no hospital. No cops.” I’m still okay enough to know better than that. “You can’t stay here; the cops will be coming. You have to go.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she yells at me with disbelief. “Just stay with me. Hide in my apartment. Let me help you, please,” she begs me and that’s the only reason I let her wrap an arm around me and guide me back to her apartment.
Thank fuck it’s so early in the morning and everything went down in the back alley.
Dark alley.
A man who knew where to be and when.
Someone with information.
Not Marcus … but it’s someone who must know Marcus. My gaze moves to Addison’s pale face as she opens the door to her apartment. Someone who wanted her. Someone who wanted to hurt me. And Marcus had to have told them. He’s the only one who knew I was with her and what she meant to me.
“Come on.” She tries to push me into her apartment and for a moment I hesitate, but if Marcus or someone else is after Addison, I have to be beside her.
It’s too late for me to say goodbye.
I feel breathless as my gaze darts from the door behind us to the counter, then to the window. I have to tell Carter. At the thought a pain shoots up my back and down my shoulder, making me grit my teeth.
Fuck! Holding my breath, I put more pressure on the wound.
My steps are wide as I walk in and head for the kitchen. To the tile floor where it will be easy to clean up.
“Was there blood in the alley?” I ask Addison in a pained voice that I can’t control and look behind me as I walk. Nothing’s spilling onto the floor. Not a drop. My shirt is soaked with blood, but hopefully there’s nothing that will lead the cops up to Addison.
“A lot of it,” she answers me as she rips open the cabinet door and pulls out a roll of paper towels.
“Did it lead up the stairs?” I ask her breathlessly and then wince from the pain. Fuck! Make it stop. Please.
She looks at me wide-eyed before realizing I was talking about my blood. Not the asshole who dared to put his hands on her. She visibly swallows while shaking her head frantically. “No, nothing.” She winds the paper towels around her hand before giving me the bundle of them. Her hands are still trembling. My poor Addison.
I take a quick look, as quickly as I can. Looks like the bullet exited cleanly. The wound isn’t the problem. It’ll bleed, but it’ll heal. It’s the infection that’ll kill me if I don’t have one of the guys take a look at it.
“Come sit,” she tells me while also reaching for my shirt. “Sit down,” she commands again. Her hands are shaking and her voice trembles, but she’s trying to be strong.
I reach out and grab her hand to stop her. My blood smears on her soft skin. “I’m fine,” I say to try to comfort her.
Addison shakes her head with tears in her eyes. “Sit down and let me take care of you.” She swallows her tears back and adds, “If you won’t go to the hospital, it’s the least you can do.”
A breath leaves me and makes me feel weak.
Another and my hand releases hers, but she doesn’t look at it. She doesn’t even wipe the blood away; she’s still searching my eyes for approval.
Nodding, I take a step back and push the chair at the kitchen island far back enough to sit.
I watch her face the entire time she helps me pull my shirt off. She cares about me still. I know she does. She’ll forgive me.
“Didn’t you say you’d hate me forever?” I ask her. Maybe I’m delirious. I don’t know why I push her.
“I said I’d never forgive you,” she tells me flatly and doesn’t look me in the eyes. Instead she pulls the wad of paper towels away, which are mostly soaked with blood and she quickly balls up more and presses against the wound.
“But you came down to see me,” I say without thinking. “It had to mean something.” The hope in my chest falters with her silence.