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“Goddamn, you are one frustrating woman,” he groaned and dropped the bags on the tiny two-legged table that passed off as a dining table. “I went to see Ammo.”
Of course he did, because his guilt had probably overwhelmed him and now he was determined to double down on the overprotective thing. “Good for you.”
“Did I do something to piss you off, Pixie?”
“Nope. I’m not pissed off. I’m in pain, Savior.”
“Do you need pills or water or something?”
I glanced at the case of bottled water under the coffee table and the pills on top of it, then back at him. “I’m good, thanks. Look, Savior, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Good, because I’m no one’s babysitter. Can’t I just do something nice because I want to?”
“Sure,” I told him but I didn’t believe him at all.
He was determined to prove me wrong by unpacking the bags and bringing me a plate piled with fried chicken, spaghetti and salad. Before I could complain about how I was going to eat and hold my plate with only one good arm, he raced into my kitchen and returned with my tray table. “See? It’s not so bad having me around.”
“I never said it was.”
“But you implied it.” He stared at me again, waiting for a reaction but I had no reaction to give. The pain was so unbearable that I pushed down everything else, all of my thoughts and emotions that had nothing to do with my immediate plans. I couldn’t handle anything else.
Not even Savior.
“I’m not going to argue with you,” I said and picked up the plastic fork he’d provided.
“No? Then what are you going to do about your friend and Roadkill MC?”
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
“That’s not going to work, Pixie.” His gaze was hard and cold, deadly serious as he sat beside me with his own plate in his hands.
“Well it’s the best I can do, so you need to deal with it.” I dropped my fork on the plate in frustration. Eating left handed was difficult and leaning forward to do so only made the pain in my ribs worse. Fucking bikers.
“What about your job?”
I laughed bitterly. “What job?”
>
Landry had been only too happy to learn I wouldn’t be back but he wasn’t all laughs when he learned I’d been attacked in his parking lot. I could have told him I’d be long gone before I had a chance to sue but he didn’t deserve it. Let the fucker stew on it for a while.
“Shit, Mandy. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine with it.”
“What will you do for work?”
I shrugged, for some reason I couldn’t tell him the truth, that I would leave and find a job and a home in another city. I couldn’t tell him that I was starting over somewhere else and I didn’t know why. “Figure it out. It’s what I do.”
“And Roadkill? You can’t really think they’ll just let this go, even if you did something crazy like leave town they’d come and find you.”
I didn’t think that, but I couldn’t worry about it. “All they can do is kill me, Savior.”
“Don’t fucking say that!” He threw his half empty plate on the coffee table with a clatter as his voice echoed in the small room. “That’s not funny, Mandy. There’s no coming back from that.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“So this is what, some suicide mission?” He was angry and worried, but I didn’t need that from him. Not now.
