His grin was breathtaking. “You stopped the son of a bitch who hit me.”
“Never letting anyone hurt you again,” I told him. It was my promise. “Not if I can help it.”
“Well, same, Boo-Boo.” Then he dipped his head, his nose brushing against my hair. “Can I kiss you again?”
I didn’t bother with a verbal answer. Tugging my fingers from his, I raised my free hand to his face and my lips to his. He fused his open mouth to mine, and the sweep of his tongue was a heady experience. My pulse hammered as I held on tight to him. Freddie squeezed me gently and then nuzzled my lips before he tangled his tongue with mine.
Intoxicating and delightful, I wanted more, but I still held a gun, and he had a knife. We were also covered in someone else’s blood. When he dragged his head upward to gaze down at me, I couldn’t slow my panting breaths.
“Don’t run away,” I whispered. “Please.” I didn’t want to put pressure on him, but I couldn’t bear it if he had to flee right now.
“Not running, Boo-Boo,” he promised. Then he kissed me again—this time, slow and deliberate. The pressure pushed me right up against the wall. Brick scraped against my back, but I didn’t care. The softness of his lips was a temptation, as was the husky chuckle he released before he nuzzled kisses to my throat.
When his chuckle turned to laughter, I shifted my hand into his hair. The light tug brought his head up.
“What’s funny?”
“Just pictured fucking your tits, Boo-Boo. Kind of want to do it—you know—eventually.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again as I considered it. “My tits?”
“Yep,” he said with a grin. “Too weird?”
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think so—but I would think you’d want—”
“More?” Another flash of a grin. “I want more, Boo-Boo. But I really wanna fuck your tits. Like—not right now, but later.”
“Whenever you want,” I offered. “Just not sure I have a lot of tit to fuck.”
“You got plenty of tits, Boo-Boo. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen and the sweetest tits. You’ll see…” He shifted against me and glanced behind him before tucking me more firmly into his body. “You know where else I want to fuck you?”
The comment beckoned to me to play, so I nipped a kiss to his jaw before I said, “On the washing machine while it’s doing the spinning cycle?”
It was a ridiculous comment, but I’d heard stories, and Freddie’s expression lit up. “Let’s add that to the list—we’re gonna make a fuck-it list, you and me, Boo-Boo—all the places we’re gonna fuck after we finish this shit.”
I liked this plan.
I liked it a lot.
“Do I get to add to that list?”
“Hell yes, where do you want me to fuck you?”
Delight curved through the darkness and the crazy. We might be battered, bruised, and bloodied—but we were also together.
CHAPTER 3
KELLAN
“Mr. Traschel?” An unfamiliar voice spoke, accompanied by an inflating pressure on my left arm dragged me out of the abyss. Pain greeted me when I opened my eyes and it was a fight to not just shut them again.
Strobe lights sliced through the darkness. The taste of metal filled my mouth. The tight squeeze on my arm roused me more, and I fought to focus on the woman leaning over me.
“Take it easy, Mr. Traschel, you’ve likely got a concussion and you lost consciousness.”
Did I?
When…?
Memory rushed in to fill the gaps. I tried to sit up, and the woman put a hand on my shoulder like she was going to make me lie down again. Yeah, not happening. The world swam when I twisted my gaze back to where the shop was still burning.
Engines from the local fire station, an ambulance, and cop cars were the source of the strobing lights. Bits and pieces floated to the front. Coming to check the alarm. Giving Milo shit and him responding. Turning to say something… did I say something?
The thoughts slipped away before I could fist them. “Where is Milo?” The words came out rough and raw. The paramedic stopped trying to make me lie down, which was good. I wanted the blood pressure cuff off.
“Sir?” This time it was a cop talking to me. “Mr. Traschel?” His tone was nowhere near as solicitous as the paramedic’s. While it wasn’t hostile, it definitely gave me something to focus on.
“Officer,” I said, lifting my chin to meet the guy’s gaze. The fact he was still standing didn’t do me any favors.
“Can you answer a few questions for us?”
“Once my attorney is here,” I said, not even trying to sugarcoat it.
“If you didn’t do anything…”
“Yeah, don’t try that with me. Innocent or guilty, everyone has the right to an attorney. I also have a concussion, according to the paramedic here.”
Pointing her out to the cop seemed to remind him she was there. Yes, we have a witness, don’t be a dick.
“Which means I might have some cognitive impairments that could lead to confusion in answering your questions. It’s better for all of us if I call an attorney and have them here. I should probably get cleared by a doctor too.”
The longer I spoke, the more sour the cop’s expression turned.
“I’m going to get my phone out.” Before he said anything, I added, “I’ll also want my gun back. I have a license, but you know that since you also have my wallet.”
Genuine surprise flickered over his face. “Look…”
“Pete,” another cop called as he strolled up. “I got this.”
Vasquez.
Pete scowled, then jerked his thumb to the side. “I’ll deal with him then…”
Following the gesture, I frowned. “Him” was Milo. “Why is he in cuffs?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Vasquez said in a firm voice. “Neither of these guys are—”
“He just got out of jail—” Pete argued, interrupting Vasquez, and there was something to be said for the fact that Vasquez rolled his eyes.
“He finished his sentence and was released,” Vasquez cut him off. “He’s not on probation, so let it go and walk away.”
The last seven words were delivered in a cold, brusque tone of a man who was done. I caught Milo’s gaze as Vasquez dealt with his friend and the paramedic removed the cuff from my arm. The hospital debate was coming, but I’d skip that. Doc was back at the clubhouse.
He could handle the follow-up.
“Mind if I get my wallet and gun back before you go?” I asked before Pete could take off. I wasn’t getting a friendly vibe from him. The fact he passed both over to Vasquez rather than me was fine. As soon as the irritation was gone, though, I glanced at the paramedic. “I’m good.”
“You should go to the hospital…”
Raising a hand to stop her, I shook my head carefully. The world wasn’t quite swimming but fuck the pound in my head intensified. “I’ve got a personal doc. I’ll go see him. Promise. Give me what you need me to sign off on for choosing against following your medical advice. And thank you.”