Wicked as Sin (Wicked & Devoted 1)

“That man…” She huffed in frustration.

“Cutter?” One-Mile ventured.

“He only answers about half the time. I swear I don’t know what he’s doing the other half.”

Probably saving the world. That’s who Cutter was and that was their job. But as far as One-Mile knew, there were no pressing cases at the moment, so he had to wonder if maybe Cutter was doing someone else. Cheating didn’t seem like the overgrown Boy Scout’s thing, but if he wasn’t being faithful to Brea, One-Mile would have even less compunction about stealing her from the bastard.

He didn’t offer up that commentary, however, just watched her dial someone else.

“Hi, Mama Sweeney. You seen Cutter today? He wasn’t in church.”

There was a long pause, then One-Mile heard the other woman speak, though he couldn’t decipher her words.

But Brea’s face fell. “Oh. Well…um, if you see him anytime soon, can you ask him to call me? It’s urgent. Daddy’s had an episode with his heart. I’m on my way to the emergency room at University Hospital right now.”

From what he could tell, the woman on the other end of the line conveyed an appropriate amount of shock and worry, before promising to have Cutter call her as soon as he turned up.

Brea ended the conversation, looking tight-lipped. One-Mile bit back a million questions. Fuck Brea being none of his business. Right now, she felt alone in the world, and he intended to take care of her, hoist as much of her responsibility as she’d allow onto his shoulders. But she seemed a million miles away.

“You okay?” he asked as he exited the highway.

“Fine.”

But she wasn’t. Her mood had taken another downturn after she’d talked to Mama Sweeney, whoever that was.

One-Mile squeezed her hand. “If you need to talk, pretty girl, I’m listening.”

She turned to him with a wrenching smile that nearly broke his heart. “Thank you.”

But she didn’t share her thoughts or give him her troubles, just sat taut and mute until they reached the emergency room.

The instant he parked his Jeep near the door, she shoved off her seat belt, grabbed her purse, and dashed toward the hospital. One-Mile jumped from the vehicle and ran after her, locking the doors behind him with a click of his fob. By the time he caught up to her, she’d already spoken to an attendant, who went to fetch someone who could tell her about her father’s condition.

She clutched her hands together, looking as if she waited for the verbal equivalent of a mortal body blow.

Normally, he didn’t think too much about other people’s problems. Everyone had shit to deal with, and he didn’t expect anyone to listen to him whine about his. But it ripped him up to see sweet Brea hurting this much.

“Take a deep breath,” he encouraged as he slipped his arm around her petite shoulders.

It was impossible not to notice that she fit perfectly against him, her delicate frame just the right height to hold close.

“What if Daddy is—”

“Don’t borrow trouble. Let’s wait for someone to give us the update. In the meantime, stay strong.”

“I’m trying. But when I imagine life without him, I don’t feel strong…” She buried her face in his chest and began to sob softly.

Brea had sought him for comfort? Granted, everyone else here was a complete stranger. But to draw solace from him, she had to trust him on some gut level she hadn’t yet admitted to herself.

Tamping down his triumph, One-Mile wrapped both arms around her and held her tight against him. “I got you for as long as you need.”

That didn’t turn out to be long at all. The doctor, a forty-something no-nonsense woman, came bustling down the hall moments later. “Ms. Bell?”

Her head snapped up from his chest. “Yes.”

“I’m Dr. Gale, one of the cardiovascular surgeons here at the hospital. I—”

“Is he all right? Is he going to make it?” Every muscle in Brea’s body tightened.

A patient reassurance crossed the doctor’s face. “Your father is stable and conscious now, but—”

“Can I see him?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not yet. We’re running some tests…”

The doctor went on, explaining the preacher’s condition. The only words Brea seemed to hear were bypass surgery, probably in the next few hours. Gaping, she pressed a hand to her chest as her face went sheet white and she wobbled on her feet. One-Mile steadied her.

The doctor addressed him. “Is she prone to fainting? Has she eaten today?”

He had no fucking idea. “I’ll take care of her.”

The woman nodded grimly. “It’s likely going to be a long day. She’ll need her strength. We should be finished with all the tests in about an hour.”

That gave him enough time to see to Brea since she was too worried about her father to even think of herself.

When the surgeon disappeared down the hall again, he turned Brea to face him. “Talk to me. Did you eat breakfast?”