Make You Beg

She swallows. “I … I think …”

“What?” I ask.

“I’m going to get sick.”

I grab her arm and yank her from the seat, shoving her onto her hands and knees. I kneel beside her, grabbing her hair and holding it back just in time before she starts vomiting on the gravel.

My other hand comes up to rub her back over the vest. We sit like that for a good five minutes while she throws up everything she has in her system, and I begin to wonder if it’s due to a concussion or something else.

She sits back on her knees and rubs the arm of the hoodie sleeve across her mouth. “Better?” I ask.

She looks at me, tears in her blue eyes and some rolling down her bruised cheek. “Thanks,” she says roughly.

I shake my head with a laugh. “You have nothing to thank me for, doll.”

“You might have shot me, but I’m definitely not dead.”

I smile. “Let’s take this off.” I remove the hoodie from her arms and then pull the vest off as well. I throw it to the ground.

“That’s why I couldn’t breathe.” She stares at it. She picks it up and places her finger where the bullet hit.

“I had to put it on you pretty tight,” I tell her.

She gives me a soft smile and then starts to cough. “My back hurts.”

“Let me look.” She bends forward, and I inspect her back. She’s bruised. The vest may have stopped the bullet, but she definitely felt it. Being shot while wearing a vest is like getting hit with a baseball bat without any protection—it can still do some damage. “Do you think you can get back in the car?”

She sits up straight and nods once, crossing her arms over her exposed chest. Since I was short on time, there was nothing underneath the vest.

I stand from the gravel and walk to my back door. “I brought you some extra clothes. And I have a water in the car.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

HENLEY

“DEEPER” BY VALERIE Broussard plays through the speakers of Law’s G-Wagon as he races down the two-lane road headed back to his house.

I tilt my head over and look at him. He wears a white Graveyard hoodie with blood and dirt smeared all over it along with his designer jeans. He must have changed too, unlike the others. His right hand is on his thigh while his left wrist hangs loosely over his steering wheel. The only light we have is from his dash, illuminating the interior of his G-Wagon.

He takes a quick look over at me, and he frowns, catching me staring. “Are you going to get sick again?”

“No,” I say, not a hundred percent sure that’s true. I feel like shit. I need a shower and strong pain meds, and a twenty-four-hour coma sounds about right. “Where’s my cell?” I ask, but not really caring, knowing that no one will be calling a dead girl.

“It’s with mine turned off in my bag,” he answers, turning the music down a little.

“Avoiding everyone?” I arch a brow.

He shrugs. “Just needed some silence to think clearly.”

I reach out and rest my hand over his. “Thank you, Law,” I say, my emotions getting the best of me. Tears begin to sting my eyes.

He removes his hand from under mine to grab it in his. He lifts it to his lips and kisses my dirty knuckles. “Don’t thank me yet, little doll.” He looks in his rearview mirror for a quick second. “It’s not even close to being over.”

“Did you know?” I ask. I thought he was going to kill me for what I found out, but maybe I was wrong. Why spare me? Why go through all that trouble just to save me? At this point, I’m not even sure what is up and what is down anymore.

“No, doll.” He lets out an aggravated breath. “I didn’t.”

_______________

I open my eyes as the G-Wagon rolls to a stop. “What …?” I ask, licking my chapped and busted lips, a little disoriented.

“You fell asleep,” Law tells me before exiting his car.

I pull on the door handle and push it open. My body is sluggish and feels heavy. I go to get out of the car, but he comes up to me.

“Stop.” He orders, picking me up, and I snuggle into him, inhaling his scent. He doesn’t smell like the usual clean linen I’ve come to like. He smells more like the dirt and blood smeared across his clothes, and it’s comforting in a way.

I look over Law’s shoulder and see three flat black cars in the driveway. “Shit.” I sigh.

“Oh, I knew they’d be here.” Law laughs. “They want me as dead as they think you are.”

“Scout wouldn’t go to your mom or my dad.” I shake my head. “He’d want to kill you himself, not see you thrown in jail.”