Make Me (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 4)

“I need to go talk to the driver,” Yao said.

Tellings followed him, leaving the three of us alone to talk some more.

I pulled Royal closer and said, “How’s your body? You’re okay after he threw you?”

She nodded, frowning at me.

“Your pupils are dilated,” she said.

I winced. “I probably have a fuckin’ concussion. I hit my head so hard I saw stars.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but I shook my head. “Not now, baby.”

She huffed and turned to her brother, changing the subject.

“How did you get here?” Royal asked, her eyes wide and relieved.

I squeezed her tighter, pulling her into my chest just to reassure myself that she was really okay.

“That guy.” He gestured at the guy that was…no longer there. What the fuck?

“Yao!” I called. “Where’s the guy that you were questioning a minute ago?”

Yao frowned, looked around, and realized what I did.

The guy was gone.

“Did you get anything out of him?” I asked.

Yao rubbed his face.

“That he used to be a professional driver of some sort, his name was Bruno, and that he was forced into helping,” he answered. “Didn’t seem like he was too bad of a guy. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I looked back over at Jimmy.

“What did the guy do?” I wondered.

“He helped me get to a wheelchair,” he winced. “Though he did help me steal it.” He looked at Royal. “Then he helped her into the trunk.”

“Wait,” I held up a hand. “Helped her?”

Jimmy frowned, then nodded. “Yeah, helped. He didn’t hurt either one of us, though. That was all Marcus before he left.”

I looked over at where Marcus was currently being scraped off the floor.

I wanted nothing more than to walk over there and kick his corpse in the face.

But my head was starting to hurt where I had hit it against the wall.

Plus, I was fairly sure I might hurt the investigation more at this point if I did that than help it.

“You never answered how you got here.” I sighed, pinching my nose. “Or how you even knew where to go.”

“Bruno again,” Jimmy said. “Heard him and Marcus talking on the phone. Bruno said the address like three times. And to answer the other question, I rolled my ass all the way here.”

Royal sighed.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Royal disagreed.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun.” Jimmy looked smug for a few long seconds. “I love you, Royal. I hope you know I’d do anything for you, even push myself six miles in a fucking wheelchair.”

Royal started to laugh, but that laugh turned into a cry not too long later.

“I stole some guy’s wheelchair,” Jimmy said. “We’re going to have to send it back to him.”

So that was exactly what Royal and Jimmy ended up doing.

Me?

Well, I had to get my head examined.

And not just because it was dead set on Royal St. James. Apparently, I hadn’t escaped scot free from our altercation after all.

But this was only after Royal and Jimmy left.

Luckily, Lock had given me a ride home and followed me inside the house. Otherwise I would’ve been dead.Chapter 22

If you had sex with them seven years ago, they don’t count. They’ve fallen off your credit. You’re redeemed.

-Royal to Justice

Royal

Have you ever been on one of those rides where it’s exhilarating and exciting and scary as fuck then back to exciting?

That was what the day had been.

I’d woken up happy and content.

I’d left the house worried.

I’d gotten kidnapped and became terrified.

I’d come barreling out of that trunk so fuckin’ mad—I mean, they were trying to steal me away from Justice. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’d blame himself.

Then I’d seen Justice, and I’d been relieved.

Following that up with more terrifying when I saw the gun pointed at Justice’s head.

Finally, happiness when my brother had come flying into the garage on his wheelchair, distracting Marcus just long enough for Justice to get the upper hand.

After returning the wheelchair—and a couple hundred bucks for the inconvenience—we’d returned home to find an ambulance screaming past us.

Fear had clogged my throat as it’d passed by us on Justice’s road.

But I’d refrained from freaking too far out because there were other people on the road beside us.

But, as I came to the end of the drive and saw Justice’s front door wide open, tracks in his beloved grass from a large vehicle—something an ambulance might make—and Lock’s bike parked in the drive, with no Lock or Justice, I knew.

That ambulance was holding Justice.

I just felt it in my bones.

Jimmy hadn’t even made it out of the car yet before I was pushing him back inside.

“Something’s wrong with Justice,” I gasped.

I practically shoved him back inside, folding him in so unceremoniously that he hit his head on the steering wheel.

I didn’t care.

I didn’t care at all because my heart was in my throat and there was something seriously wrong.