Blyssfully Undone (The Blyss Trilogy 3)

“Do you think we got them all?”

“As soon as you texted me from the cabin, I made my way toward the front drive and saw there was only one vehicle. Figured on three men. So yeah, we got them all. I took down one man who was standing guard at the vehicle, and of course I got Mitchell, and then you took the other.”

“Correction, Jules took that man out all by herself.”

Quinn’s neck snaps back in surprise with both eyebrows lifted high. “Damn. That’s one hell of a woman.”

I give him a sly grin. “That’s why I told you not to piss her off.” Now that I’ve calmed down some, I can see it was best to have sedated her. What she just went through was some serious action. “It’s probably for the best you knocked her out. I think she was on the hard and fast road to a major meltdown.”

Quinn opens his eyes wide in mock surprise as he sarcastically comments, “You think?”

“My concern is when she wakes up.” I pause, shaking my head, and let out a sigh. “She's never killed anyone before, and I’m seriously worried how she’s going to process all of this. This whole scenario is going to change her, Quinn. We all know she’ll never be the same after this, and she won’t want to hear that.”

Quinn's lips form a thin line before he speaks. “That it does, my friend. That is does.” He quietly contemplates his thoughts for a minute before he speaks again, and when he does, his eyes pierce mine with utter resolution. “We have your back on this, you know? All of us will do what it takes to help pull her through the aftermath.”

“Thanks, man,” I say, looking at Quinn through the eyes of Jules. The corners of my lips lift in a smirk as I eye him up and down. I guess he does look like Rambo, in all his getup and gear with war paint on. It’s something I’m so used to seeing, so I’ve never thought twice about it. I can only imagine the thoughts that ran through her head at the first sight of him. The thought strikes me funny, and I start to chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks skeptically.

I shake my head at him and tease, “Rambo. Of all the names for someone to come up with, she comes up with Rambo.”

He chuckles himself, and then shrugs. “Hey, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“So what’s next?”

“Given the fact they know where our vicinity is, they’re probably sending out more men as we speak. Once Stryker and Chase get here, we can head out. Chances are excellent we won’t have a tail,” he pauses, “for now anyway. At least we’ll have a head start. I’m parked about a quarter mile out.” He jerks his chin up and to the left, as if I know where he’s indicating.

“Lovely…just fucking lovely.” Sarcasm drips from my voice as I think about having to carry a very sedated Jules for a quarter mile. “You just had to drug her, didn’t you?”

He holds his hands up in the air in protest. “You just agreed it was a good idea.”

“Mmmm, I think we all need to see what this Rambo is made of. I believe you should be the one to carry her ass out to the truck,” I stand up and reach across the table to give his arm muscle a manly squeeze, “since you’re the one who drugged her and all.”

A smooth smile spreads across Quinn’s lips as he rags on me. “Why, Travis, I do believe you’re getting old and feeble on me. Why don’t you just admit it; you’ve gone soft and can’t handle carrying the extra baggage.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I let go of his shoulder and he starts to laugh.

Jules

My eyes flutter open, and confusion overcomes me. Where in the hell am I? I rub the sleep from my eyes, narrowing them to focus, and I realize I’m in another friggin’ hotel room. A cold chill runs down my spine as bad memories roll through me, my pulse picking up speed. I catch the scent of Travis and my stomach dips. I’m not caught; I’m with Travis. A huge gust of air leaves my lungs in relief.

When I peel the blankets back, I raise a brow. My legs are bare. Looks like Travis had put me in one of his oversized t-shirts, and thank God I’m in my panties. The clock illuminating on the nightstand reads seven. Is it morning or night? I can’t tell. The curtains are drawn shut, and I’m not about to look behind them and tempt fate.

I make my way to the bedroom door, still in a disoriented stupor, and step out into the carpeted hallway. The sound of men’s voices carries from down the hall. It looks as if I’m in a large hotel suite. I follow the voices and find myself in front of a table full of men. I stop in my tracks. I don’t recognize any of them except for Stryker and Quinn.