The Drift (Preacher Brothers 3)

“Don’t stop singing,” he whispered, sounding so hoarse. “Your voice is so pretty.” He closed just eyes and groaned softly, clearly in pain. “It makes me feel better.”

“I’ll get someone,” I whispered and was about to stand, but he tightened his hold on my hand, causing me to still.

“I’m fine. Please don’t leave.” He cleared his throat and grimaced, and I could see he was trying to be strong.

I sank back to my knees, our hands still wrapped around each other, my gaze locked on his face.

This can’t be normal, feeling something this strongly for someone I just met. Common sense told me that over and over again, repeating in my head like a broken record. But I just didn’t care. I liked how I felt for him, this man who I knew nothing about, this man who looked at me right now like I was the sun and he’d been deprived of it his entire life.

He gave my hand another squeeze and asked me to start singing again. And that’s just what I did. I sang softly, only loud enough for him to hear.

For his ears only.

And it was when his eyes closed again and he fell back asleep that I felt my heart give a mighty jerk in my chest. It was only then that I took a stuttering breath and sat back on my haunches, staring at his face, which was relaxed in sleep, that I realized I was in far more trouble than being kept here and held against my will.

I was in far more trouble, because my heart was being compromised by this man.

Chapter Twelve

Wilder

I woke up, and for the first time, I noticed I didn’t feel that excruciating pain take my breath. I still fucking hurt, no doubt about that, but I was able to breathe without clenching my teeth.

The next thing I realized, which seemed even more important, was she wasn’t by me, this unknown woman who calmed me and gave me solace in the darkness.

Alone, not feeling her warmth, not feeling her touch or hearing her voice as she sang to me, caused me a different kind of discomfort. Had I dreamt her?

Fuck. I was tired in more ways than one, so that was pretty damn plausible.

I closed my eyes, as nothing made sense, but then everything filtered through, flashes of what happened, the back-alley deal with Frankie and the tweaker, being shot, the pain. So much pain.

Then different flashes of memories came through, things that made me feel a hell of a lot better.

Her smell.

Her touch.

Just… her.

Maybe my mind conjured her up so I could cope, so I could get through this nightmare.

Fuck, that thought depressed me.

I blinked my eyes open and stared at the ceiling. Everything was quiet around me, the steady beat of my heart the only thing I clearly made out. I didn’t want to move, not just yet, not sure if the pain would have me passing out again. I did a mental check on my body, moving my fingers and toes, inhaling slowly before exhaling at the same pace. The latter had discomfort shooting through me like a motherfucker, but that was to be expected. I lifted my head slightly and looked down at my chest, seeing the white bandage wrapped around my bare torso.

I had an IV hooked in my arm, and the memories, the in-and-out flashes of light and sound, a picture of Kimber working on me, the sound of my brothers worrying over whether I’d die or live, all came flooding back.

I looked around the room, realizing they put me in the guest bedroom, which made sense, since it was the closest to the front door. I could tell by the setting sun that it was late in the day. How long had I been out? It felt like I’d been lying here damn near forever.

I surveyed more of the room for any inclination on what happened since I’d been out. There was a tray sitting on the bedside table next to the loveseat, the plate atop it having only a few pieces of food left, an empty glass, and a water bottle sitting beside that. That clearly wasn’t for me, seeing as my belly grumbled at the thought of food.

The sounds of water running in the bathroom and then turning off had my body tightening, which then made the pain increase. But all that was easily pushed to the side at the very real possibility that maybe my mystery woman wasn’t a fabrication at all.

I held my breath as the door opened… as the light was turned off… and then she stepped out. And at the first glance of her, I sucked in a sharp breath. Even though I couldn’t see her face clearly, she was so fucking beautiful I actually found myself lifting my hand and placing it on my chest, afraid my heart would stop. Never had anyone had this kind of impact on me.