‘He’ll never hurt you again, Parker,’ Kelly had whispered while the other girls nodded. I still didn’t know what that meant. Had Shane killed him? Was he going to get in trouble for protecting me?

A nurse came in and turned on the TV for the older lady in the other bed. Her name was Bessie, and she had just checked in the day before. I was already checking out, but we’d already struck up a friendship of sorts.

Shane turned and froze, then ran in and snapped the TV off. He stared at me nervously.

“What’s wrong, Shane? Why did you do that?”

He scanned my face, looking for something. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.

“What happened . . . it’s all over the news.”

My eyes got wide.

“Oh.”

“We’ll talk about it when we get home. I just want to get you settled first.”

“Okay.”

I stood and sat again in the wheelchair. Shane kissed my cheek from behind and then started pushing me out.

“Bye, Bessie! Get well soon.”

“Bless you, sweetheart. Good luck to you and your young man. He’s a keeper,” she said with a wave.

It was surreal, getting wheeled around instead of walking on my own two feet. It was hospital policy, apparently. I was perfectly capable of walking. My wound was healing really well, with no signs of infection.

Even my finger was healing. I could feel pressure on the tip of my finger, though the doctors weren’t sure I’d ever regain full use of it. I hadn’t tried typing yet. Or sketching. I was worried that it might impact my artwork, but I hadn’t said anything yet. I was just grateful it wasn’t one of my gripping fingers the killer had taken.

It hit me again. How close I’d come to losing more parts of me. If they hadn’t come soon, if I hadn’t pretended to pass out over and over again, I would be in much, much worse shape. Maybe disfigured in a way they couldn’t fix.

If I was even there at all.

Breathe in and out. Slow and deep. The fresh air was so nice after being cooped up in the hospital for all that time.

I opened my eyes to see Shane staring at me with a frown on his face. I smiled brightly. A little too brightly, judging from his look of alarm. He shook his head and wheeled me to a car I didn’t recognize.

It was a shiny new SUV. Black. Expensive-looking.

“What’s this?” I asked as he opened the passenger side door and helped me to my feet. He barely looked at me, he was so intent on guiding me into my seat and buckling me up. I noticed he was still frowning.

“I got a car.”

“You bought a car? Just like that?”

“Yeah. We need one.”

I had to admit, my chest got warm when he said stuff like ‘we’.

“But when? You’ve been with me the whole time.”

“I did it over the phone. Watch your fingers.”

He made sure my hands were clear and shut the door. I stared at him as he returned the wheelchair to the front of the hospital and jogged back to me. He climbed in and put on his seatbelt before he started the engine.

Seatbelt? Who was this guy? And what had he done with my rough and tumble wild man?

We drove home in relative silence. I was tired and he was focused on the road. There was something about his mood that worried me. I stared out the window at the late afternoon light. It was getting warmer out. Soon, it will be sundress weather, I thought to myself with anticipation.

What a funny thought. I hadn’t worn a sundress since the ninth grade. That was almost five years ago. But maybe, just maybe, I’d want to wear one this year.

I wanted to look pretty for Shane, I realized. I only hoped I wasn’t too scarred now. I had no idea what my wound looked like, or any of the smaller cuts he had made on my body. I knew I was lucky it wasn’t much, much worse.

The panic hit me again. That feeling of being trapped. Helpless. It was so much worse than what I’d felt back in high school, when my stepfather came into my room. This was pure terror. A physical, primal fear and knowledge of imminent pain.

I cracked the window, trying not to gulp for air. I clenched my fists and held onto the dash in front of me.

Breathe, Parker. It’s over. Don’t be such a coward!

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Shane’s voice was rough. Gravelly. Concerned.

Shit. Not doing so good at covering, girl.

“Fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

I turned to look at him. He was staring straight ahead. His profile was so handsome. But his jaw was clenched.

I swallowed, feeling the panic rising again. He was right. I shouldn’t lie to him.

“I’m okay. Sometimes.”

He nodded.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he said as we pulled into the driveway.

Tags: Joanna Blake The Untouchables MC Erotic
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