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“Shit,” he mutters.
“What?” I ask, frowning at him. Here I’m doing my best to skirt the issues so that I don’t upset the big lug and he’s acting like I kicked his puppy or something.
“Do you know who shot him?”
Now, this is going to be tricky.
“I wasn’t with him when he was shot, Train. I was working.”
“Shit, okay. Next question, do you know who this Drew is? Was Ghost searching for him?”
God, I hate lying to him. I hate all of this really. I take a breath and push forward. I’m doing this for Train’s own good. The last thing I want is for Train to end up like G. I can’t handle that.
“Drew? Isn’t that who you thought I was?” I ask, and I pray I’m doing a good job of appearing clueless. There’s too much riding on Train getting out of my business. I need to handle this on my own. I need to make sure that Lenny doesn’t hurt anyone else I know.
Or care about.
Shit. Do I care about Train? That would be crazy…right?
“We found a sheet of paper on Ghost that had the name Drew on it and the place where you work. It could have been you,” he replies with a shrug.
“Seems to me that if G is your brother, you don’t know a lot. Maybe you’re not as close as you’d have me believe,” I answer, and I’m twisting, deflecting, and avoiding everything I can to keep this conversation where I don’t have to lie point blank. I doubt Train would appreciate all of my verbal acrobatics, however.
“He is my brother. I’d take a bullet for the man. I used to think I’d do anything for him or the other members of my club. Although, I think I’ve recently found the limit of what I’d be willing to do.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask. Train is looking into the distance, staring out the window of the hospital room. He seems to be lost in thought, and for some reason, I really want to get inside of his head.
“It’s not important,” he says, shaking himself out of his thoughts.
“Maybe you should load up and leave,” I suggest, and I know he won’t, but a girl can hope, right?
“What?” he almost laughs. I can tell already he’s not going to listen, but a girl has to try.
“I mean, clearly, whatever G was messed up in is serious—as in the could wind up dead variety.”
“Midnight—”
“Maybe the smart thing would be to load up, have G transferred to a hospital in Florida, and call it a day.”
“And leave you here unprotected?” he asks.
“Hey, what makes you think any of this is about me? I mean, I’m still here doing fine. G is the one in the bed.”
It takes all I have not to let Train see the bitterness I feel in that statement. If I could take his place in that hospital bed, I would in a heartbeat. I should have never reached out to him. I hate myself for doing that. That’s the very reason that I can’t allow Train to get involved now.
I can’t allow Lenny to hurt anyone else I care about. I refuse to let it happen.
Damn it, I really wish I’d stop using that care word when it comes to Train.
“Sweetheart, if you think I’m going anywhere without you, you’re full of shit.”
Uh…Yikes!
I just stand there staring at him. Why do his words scare me and make me weak in the knees and happy—all at the same damn time?
Chapter 11
Train
I’m feel like a fucking snake in the grass. My brother is lying in the bed beside me, and I’m here with a damn hard-on wanting his woman. Hell, looking at her now, I want her even more than I did earlier. I could hope that Ghost isn’t serious about her, but shit, I know better than that. All anyone has to do is look at Midnight and know that no man could walk away from her. Plus, Ghost is a one-woman kind of man. He doesn’t expend energy on a woman unless he plans on keeping her. Him following her to North Carolina is pretty damning evidence. It screams that he’s claiming this woman.
The problem is I don’t think I can fucking let him. This attraction to her is so strong that I could get fucking drunk from it. She’s not immune to me either. Hell, she’s inadvertently touched me five times since she came into the room. I doubt she’s even noticed. Even now, her hand is on my shoulder as she stands beside me looking at Ghost. Her fingertips brush against my hair. When I look over at her, her beautiful face is staring at Ghost, and I can see the worry on her face. Yet, when my gaze drops down, I see the hard tips of her nipples pressing against her sweater. I tighten my hands into fists, if only to resist the urge to grab her and pull her into my lap. I want to undo her pants, slide my hand inside, and see if she’s wet for me. God, I really want her wet for me…
