Page 99 of Give Me Peace

“Gonna come, sweetness.” I appreciate the heads up, but I’ve come this far, might as well finish with a bang. I’d like to know what the big deal is. Kash’s next words are cut off by a gutteral moan. His head falls back as his release fills my throat. I try—I really do—but there’s no way in hell I’m swallowing. It tastes sterile. Like the smell of a hospital.

Oh, God, I’m going to vomit.

I pop my mouth free and shuffle toward the shower drain. I spit a few times, then tilt my head back and fill my mouth with water. Wash, rinse, repeat. I can officially mark that off my to-do list and place it on the never-again side. I flop to my butt and peer back at Kash. He’s slumped against the wall, looking happier than a pig in shit. I slide over and straddle his lap, happy to see some life behind his eyes.

“You are, without a doubt, the bestest Best Friend ever.” I giggle at his absurdity, but it’s quickly cut off when my back hits the floor. “Now it’s my turn.” Kash grins wickedly as he reaches over and detaches the shower head. With his tool of choice in hand, he makes a game of finding out how many times he can make me come before the water runs cold.

Three—the answer is three.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Kade

“Fuck me, it’s hot.”

Roan tosses me a bottle of water, aimed straight at my head, in response to my bitching and moaning. I might’ve grown up in this godforsaken swamp, but that doesn’t mean I’ve gotten used to nor like sweating from every pore on my body. I down the drink in two swallows, then use my shirt to wipe my face. We’ve been at it since the ass crack of dawn, working on getting the house prepared before the latest tropical storm brewing over the Atlantic makes landfall.

You wouldn’t know it by the current state of things, but shit can change in an instant around here. It’s blue skies as far as the eye can see, a veritable fucking sauna without even a hint of a breeze. Florida weather, man. So far, we’ve managed to get the grill and patio furniture stored away, and now we’re securing the hurricane shutters on the top floor windows. It’s been slow-going, but the end is in sight and staying busy has kept my mind off of Say.

I fell asleep to her screams. Ecstasy driven, but torturous, nonetheless. I had to lay there, alone in my bed, and listen to Krew push her to the brink, wringing out every ounce of pleasure he could muster from her tiny little body. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to beat the ever-loving fuck out of the twisted asshole or sing his praises. He’s got peculiar tastes, and if Say can handle the shit he was dishing out, there’s nothing I could do to scare her off. I fell asleep with a hard-on and woke just as desperate, especially when her whimpers and moans could be heard from the hallway. By the time she joined us in the kitchen, her face fresh and hair damp, I nearly tossed her on the counter and had her for breakfast. Say has no idea how sexy she is, prancing around the house in one of our shirts. It’s a goddamn siren’s call, seeing her bare legs disappear beneath the hem of a ratty tee.

Judging by Roan’s muttered curses and overall discontent, I’d say his night of audible voyeurism was just as miserable as mine. Every time he positions a shutter, I wince. He’s not focused enough to be wielding power tools, so he’s in charge of sliding the heavy metal barriers into place, then I come behind him with the drill. I thought that was the best way to avoid injury, but as Ro rams the sheet over the window, he traps my poor pinky finger with it.

“Motherfucker!” I wail, ripping my hand free, taking a chunk of skin off as I do. I grip it to my chest as blood starts to trickle down my arm.

“Shit, man,” Ro swears. In a flash, he’s right in front of me, grabbing at my battered hand. I attempt to swat him away, my inner child scared as fuck he’s gonna hurt the boo-boo even more.

“Fuck off.” I twist my torso to keep him out of reach. “You’ve already cost me one digit, so maybe stop while you’re ahead, you Hulk-sized sonofabitch.”

“You’re a whiny asshole, you know that?” Ro crosses his arms and glares down at me. If he thinks shaming me into ‘growing a pair’ will work, he’s sorely misjudged how stubborn I can be.

“What the hell are you two going on about?” Krew whisper-yells as he slips out and shuts the slider behind him. “Tink just fell asleep after tossing and turning half the night, so let’s cut the shit, huh?” I raise an eyebrow, glancing at Ro as we get our asses chewed out by the last person I would’ve expected to get up in arms over a girl’s beauty rest. Two months ago, I wouldn’t have believed Krew capable of caring for someone outside of our ragtag little group. Even then, his feelings for me are touch and go. Yet here he stands, pissed on our girl’s behalf.

“Awww,” I lament mockingly, walking closer to pinch Krew’s cheek. “Our resident ice king is starting to thaw. Won’t be long before he’s a melted puddle of goo, spouting off soliloquies of love.”

“This is why no one likes you,” Krew deadpans, spinning on his heel to head back inside. “In fact, I’m almost certain your Tink’s least favorite.” His voice drops as we follow behind him, all three of us glancing to the small lump sleeping on the couch. My heart pangs at the sight of Say buried beneath the covers, like she’s trying to shield herself from the rest of the world. Her reality has been flipped upside down one too many times, but she’s too strong to crack. We won’t let this get the best of her. It’s a setback, but nothing we can’t handle.

“Maybe someone shouldn’t have kept her up, doing all sorts of ungodly things to her sacred body,” I tease, smirking at Krew’s unamused glare.

“Children,” Loch interrupts, his tone serious but quiet. “Denvers just send a text. They’ve secured a new safehouse. He thinks Saylor can be moved by Wednesday, at the latest.”

Fuck.

That’s two days. Two goddamn days to drink my fill of her before she’s taken from me. Again. I clench my jaw to keep from spewing my refusal. It burns like acid to keep quiet, but my opinion wouldn’t matter. Not even Loch can stop the wheels Denvers has put in motion. While I understand the reasoning, my whole being rejects the notion of separating the six of us. We’ve created something special. This dependency I feel isn’t normal, but our love isn’t either and watching her leave will feel like having a limb hacked off with a rusty handsaw.

Agonizing.

I turn toward the kitchen sink and flip the tap on. The throb in my pinky has taken a backseat, my focus remaining on the conversation still taking place behind me. Ro growls and spits his own version of my exact thoughts, but it’s more to voice his disapproval than actually believing it’ll do anything to change the outcome. By the time I get a bandage wrapped around my finger and face the others, Kash has joined the party, looking more unhinged by the second. He’s stress-eating a lollipop—wide brown gaze bouncing from Saylor to Loch, like he’s waiting for the ‘gotcha’ that’s never going to come. None of us are coping very well with the looming deadline, but Kash is especially fucked up about it. He’s edging toward the business end of another sedative if those crazy eyes continue to hang around.

Despite knowing this is a temporary separation, his mind is struggling to wrap itself around the idea of being without Say at all. Sadly, trauma like his and Krew’s can last a lifetime. They deal with it differently, but their connection to Say is steeped with underlying issues they’re still trying to work past. Shit, I think we’re all drawn to the calmness we feel whenever she’s close. Without saying a word, Kash walks off. He stops next Say and pulls the covers back, then climbs in beside her. After a few more hushed whispers, we break apart, isolating like we do best when we start to feel too much. I drop to the empty spot near Say’s head and gently run my fingers through her hair. My nose curls as I glance at Kash, finding that stupid fucking sucker still shoved in his mouth. I let my head fall back, giving in to the exhaustion I feel from working in the hot sun all day.

As my eyes close, that pit in my stomach starts to open. Dread builds rapidly as I envision the moment a blacked-out SUV will drive away with our girl, taking her to some unknown location for an indeterminate amount of time. I push it away, refusing to give it any room to grow. Say’s still here. I can feel her glossy blonde strands beneath my hand, hear the soft puffs of air leaving her slightly parted lips. For now, I have her. And no matter how long it takes, I’ll have her again.

The first thing to penetrate my sleep is a whimper, followed closely by a sharp pain in my arm. My eyes snap open, instantly focused on the last place Say had been when I passed out. She’s now huddled against my side, nails buried in my flesh as she grips it like her life depends on it. Those blue eyes are fixated on the slider as she trembles from head to toe.

“Say Baby,” I call out softly, inching my fingers below hers. “What’s wrong?” She turns slowly, but her eyes still fixed on the deck. The sun has set, making it virtually impossible to see outside.

“Someone’s out there,” she whispers, her hand squeezing mine as she continues to shake. My brows dip together as I search for any sign of life, but there’s nothing. The motion lights are off, and even if something was out there, she couldn’t have seen it. It’s too dark.