Page 75 of Mile High Heist

Olivia sniffled.

Panic jolted through me, reigniting my blood. I lowered her to her feet and cupped her face. My ruined hands burned at the contact, but I didn’t release her. “Where is he?”

“He…”

My throat closed. Was he sucked out? Was he fucking dead?

My heart sank. He couldn’t be dead. Madoc was invincible. He was the fucking Terminator on crack. He couldn’t be.

I couldn’t let myself believe Madoc was dead.

I wouldn’t—

“Idiot.”

I twisted around, ignoring the fresh stab of agony that speared through my ribs. Madoc was standing a few feet away. Face blank and bloody as usual. His ink-dark hair stuck up like he’d shoved his finger into an electric socket. Mine was probably no better. His shirt was half open, like the wind had nearly torn it clean off his torso.

He should’ve looked ridiculous. But instead, he looked goddamn glorious.

I didn’t waste another second.

I charged at him, bum leg and all. He didn’t move, his face unreadable as I slammed into him, crushing him into a bear hug.

“You dickhead,” I growled into his temple. I breathed him in, which was a weird thing to do. He smelled like sweat, blood, and hair gel. I did it again anyway.

I felt more than heard his quiet sigh. I wasn’t sure if it was a resigned sound or an annoyed one, but then he lifted his arms and wrapped them tentatively around me. He didn’t squeeze. He just let me.

That was enough.

Behind me, someone coughed pointedly. Madoc and I sprang apart. I didn’t look at him; instead, I turned to glare at Nate. “You got something to say?”

Nate’s brows shot up, then his hands. “Nope. Nothing.”

It was never nothing with Nate.

Face cracking into his usual, shit-eating grin, he added: “Just good to see Jadoc is still going strong. I’m so winning this bet.”

“What fucking bet?”

Nate zipped his lips again. I imagined my fist loosening them up. My eyes flickered to Olivia. She was staring at the ground, her face blank with shock. Or maybe it was exhaustion. She looked thoughtful, and that never boded well for me. In fact, it usually landed me in a whole new world of trouble.

“Come on,” I said. We needed to leave before we all croaked from hypothermia.

Olivia made to step forward, then winced, her eyes slipping closed in pain.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her, then I caught sight of her feet.

Shit.

They were bare. She’d lost her shoes at some point, probably while clinging on for dear life. The floor was barely warmer than dry ice, and she’d been standing on it for too long.

I limped toward her. “Come here.”

She thrust up her hand stubbornly. “No. I can walk.”

“Don’t be stupid. Your feet are bleeding.”

She scoffed at me. “Your everything is bleeding. Seriously, Jax. You need to take a minute. You’re going to crash hard when you feel all of this.”