Wolf (Evil Dead MC 4)

“You mean, kind of like a pilot?” she asked.

He shrugged again. “I guess.”

“Holy cow!” Her eyes got big.

At her lame-o response, he grinned. “Yeah, how ‘bout that. Holy cow.”

She slugged him in the arm. “Shut up.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Babe, you seen my long sleeve shirt?” Crash called out from the bedroom when he heard the toilet flush and the door open. He was distractedly stuffing clothes in a duffle bag that sat on the bed. He twisted, looking over his shoulder at Shannon. She had a funny look on her face. Kind of green, kind of anxious.

“You okay?” He frowned, thinking back to all the anxiety and panic attacks she used to have when they first met, attacks he’d thought were long in the past. But then again, he hadn’t left her for an extended period of time, not like this run was going to be, and it crossed his mind for the first time that maybe she was afraid to be alone. He straightened. “Shannon?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“You know I have to go. It’s a mandatory run. Sturgis is national. There’ll be Chapters from all over the country.”

“I know. How long will you be gone?”

“Its fourteen hundred miles, babe. Two days out, maybe six days there, two days back. So, ten days probably. Maybe more.”

She suddenly dashed back into the bathroom, her hand ove

r her mouth. This time, he followed and held her hair back while she puked. As she bent over the toilet, his eyes skimmed down her back and landed on her ass. And the little white telltale stick sticking out of her back pocket.

His eyes moved to the waste basket, and he spied the corner of the recognizable box she’d tried to hide under a wad of tissue. His eyes then moved to her back as her muscles flexed with her heaving. He rubbed her back and couldn’t fight the grin forming on his face or the joy singing through him.

She flushed the toilet, and he handed her a wash cloth. She moved to the sink, turning on the faucet. Scooping some water into her cupped hand, she slurped it up and spit it out. Wiping her face, she then chugged some mouthwash.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You okay now, Princess?”

“Yes.”

He studied her face. Then he took her by the hand and pulled her back into the bedroom. Taking her in his arms, he stared down at her a long moment and then asked, “Were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

He reached and pulled the stick out of her back pocket. Holding it up, he asked again, “Were you going to tell me before I left, sweetheart?”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she pressed close against him. He felt her nod her head against his chest, her face buried.

“Shannon, look at me.”

Finally, she pulled back and looked up at him.

“Aren’t you happy?”

She sniffled. “Yes, of course I am.”

He pushed her to sit on bed and knelt in front of her. “Then what’s wrong?”

“You’re leaving. I’m afraid. And I didn’t want to tell you and distract you.”

“Baby,” he breathed, his eyes searching hers. “You know I want nothing more than to stay with you. Especially now. But you understand I have to go, don’t you?”