Dizziness washes over me, and for a moment, I don’t know what I’m seeing. Don’t understand why the shadows are so damn familiar.
“Stay still, Reynolds.” Cullen’s words, calm and even, cut through the pain-filled haze around me, the man himself materializing in my line of sight a moment later.
“Cullen,” I say dumbly, my gaze skidding between the last man I expected to see here and Undershirt, who is stirring on the ground behind him. No, not just stirring. Reaching for his waistband. “Behind you!” I shout.
Cullen spins smoothly just as Undershirt pulls out a gun. Moving faster than I would’ve thought possible, Cullen rushes the thug, shoving Undershirt’s gun-holding arm straight into the air. A flick of Cullen’s wrist has Undershirt dropping the weapon with a scream of pain, Liam appearing beside the pair to catch the falling gun before it hits the ground. A few metallic clicks follow, and the disassembled pieces of the weapon scatter to the dirt.
Holy shit.
I try to push myself up, only to find another set of hands keeping me in place, Kyan’s ocean-like scent filling my lungs.
“Easy, Skylar,” Kyan murmurs to me as if I were a skittish horse. “Need to take a look at you.” He flicks on a flashlight, and by its glow, I see his dark eyes concentrating on me as he pushes a lock of his glossy black hair back under his ever-present baseball cap. The burn scars touching the right side of Kyan’s face manage to underscore the strong angle of his jaw, making his rare moments of connection heart-stoppingly intense.
“Scene secure.” Liam strolls out of the house after switching on a security light. I don’t remember seeing him enter, yet there he is, pulling zip ties from God knows where and wrapping them around the thugs’ wrists. Liam rubs his hand over his face, scruffy with a five-o’clock shadow that’s probably been in place since noon. “There are at least two kilos of coke they were cutting in plain sight in there. I’m calling it in.”
Pulling out his cell, Liam takes a few steps away, walking as if he owns the world, menace radiating from his honed body. I don’t realize I’m shrinking away until I feel Kyan squeeze my arm reassuringly. The man doesn’t talk much, but he sees everything. I wouldn’t underestimate any of these guys. Especially not now.
“Copy.” Cullen crouches beside me for the second time. His square jaw visibly clenched, lips drawn into a harsh line. Taking out a penlight, he shines it into my eyes. Despite being small, the light is painfully bright, and I jerk my face to the side.
“No, look at it,” Cullen orders. “I need to check your pupils.”
I want to argue, I really do, but my shoulder chooses that moment to throb worse than ever. I go breathless at the blinding shock, my arm spasming without my control. I whimper with each involuntary movement, my vision blurring.
It hurts so much that I almost shout at him to go to hell, but I can’t form the words.
“Can you move your fingers?” Cullen asks.
“Yes,” I say, only then registering that I’m full-on sobbing. Great. Of all the times to have a meltdown. “How…how’s the b-boy?”
“Mason’s got him. He’ll be okay.”
“B-but what about the m-mom? Was she—”
Cullen wipes the tears from my cheeks with stunning gentleness. “Rowen’s on it.”
Red and blue flashes begin to strobe from somewhere down the street, and I feel immensely glad that additional help has arrived. Although it appears the famous Trident gods have things well in hand. Suddenly, the townsfolk’s reverence for these men makes sense to me.
Uniformed officers flood the yard, Liam intercepting them as if he owns the place. I’m not even surprised when the cops fall in line beneath the man’s curt orders.
“I had the medic unit take Zackary.” Eli walks up to us, a small cut on his forehead. “It’ll be a while before they can get the next rig out here.” Kneeling beside Cullen, Eli softly brushes my hurt arm. “How are you doing there, soldier?”
I try to smile. My annoying sobs have ceased, but from the men’s expressions, I don’t think the smile’s very convincing.
“Alert and oriented, lacerations, possible concussion, and dislocated shoulder,” Cullen rattles off, the other man nodding along to the code. “Stable all in all.”
“You want to wait or reduce it now?” asks Eli.
“Now,” Cullen says firmly. “Neuro appears fully interact, and I’m not putting her through waiting a fucking hour for the ER doc.”
“Wait, what?” I inject myself into a conversation that seems to have taken a turn very relevant to my well-being and am surprised when it’s Kyan who replies.
“Cullen is going to put your shoulder back into place,” Kyan says in his soft yet powerful voice. “It will hurt.”
“No!” I pull back as Cullen reaches over and rips half my shirt open, baring a shoulder that doesn’t look anything like it should. Yet, the thought of someone touching my arm makes my heart jump into a dizzy gallop. “Don’t touch it.” I shake my head to emphasize my point.
Cullen catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to meet his gaze. The man’s mossy-green eyes are hard as steel, the tiny thread of empathy in them as frightening as anything. “I wasn’t asking your opinion. Given where we find ourselves, I think you’ve done enough for one night.”
“My body,” I hiss through clenched teeth, “my opinion. Get away.”
“What our wound-up ass of a friend is trying to say,” Kyan tells me softly, “is that he thinks he can put that shoulder back into place safely now. The pain won’t stop until that happens, and none of us are enjoying watching you writhe in agony.”
“That’s what I said,” Cullen grunts.
Kyan winks at me.
I nod. “All right.”
Kyan’s hands brush over my body, stabilizing me from behind. “Take a deep breath, Sky,” he says.
I do.
Cullen takes careful hold of my wrist.
My stomach tightens. “I changed my mind!” I jerk away, gasping as a bolt of lightning shoots down my arm. “Don’t. Don’t.”
To my amazement, Cullen actually pauses, though he doesn’t let go. “Reynolds—Sky—look at me.” His gaze grips mine again, though this time, the connection feels like a lifeline. The rise and fall of Cullen’s chest shifts slightly to match mine before slowing our joint rhythm. “Don’t look away,” he says. Orders. “Don’t look anywhere but at me.”
I feel his hands moving again, Kyan’s grip tightening behind me. Without ever breaking eye contact with me, Cullen wraps his hands around my elbow and wrist and begins to rotate them slowly. Gradually. Unyieldingly, no matter how much I shake from the pain. I gasp as there’s a final jolt of agony before the joint slips into place with a pop, and relief floods my blood.
“You did good,” Kyan whispers to me, but it’s Cullen who continues to hold my gaze, a sparkle of pain flashing in his eyes.
I reach my hand toward him, and, with the next heartbeat, Cullen pulls me tightly against his chest and doesn’t let go.
15