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There’s no time to grab for the gun I stashed in the glove compartment. Instead of fighting back, I want to get us away to keep her safe. I slam my foot on the gas pedal, flooring it as I weave back and forth to make us a harder target to hit. The wind is loud, whipping into the car from the damage. I let my guard down and it might get us killed.
“Oh my god! What’s happening?”
The blacked out SUV tries to close the distance and I see the shotgun again in the side mirror.
“Shit!”
Another bang rings out as I yank the wheel, but I’m not fast enough. The driver’s side window shatters, sharp pieces catching me across the cheek and neck as I instinctively shy away with a grunt. Ignoring the pain, I grit my teeth and push the car harder to get us the hell out of there.
“You good?” I demand, praying no buckshot spread flew through the car.
&
nbsp; Maisy tries to lift her head as my tires screech across the road when I take a turn too fast.
“Down, Maisy!” I press down on her shoulders and she curls up in a ball. “Someone’s fucking shooting at us!”
“I figured that out,” she yelps over the wind of the two destroyed windows. Reaching up, she latches on to my arm that’s shielding her, grip desperate and scared. “They must have been watching and followed us.”
“Hold on tight. I’ll get us out of here.”
My heart thumps hard as I white knuckle the wheel. I will get us out of this or we’ll meet the same fate as my parents. I’ll never let them take anything away from me again.
Especially not my daisy.
Twenty-Nine
Maisy
Fox winces and I scrunch up my face in sympathy as I clean the cuts he got from the broken glass. He’s sitting on a low stool shirtless, hair wet from the quick shower we took when we got back. His hands grip my hips as I dab at freshly dried blood on his cheek. He hasn’t stopped touching me once, like he needs to physically know I’m safe by keeping me within reach.
“Sorry,” I murmur when he grits his teeth from the sting of the alcohol wipe.
He grunts, jaw locked. I know he’s not mad at me, but the force of his anger is a palpable thing. His body ripples with the need to tear something apart.
Someone fucking shot at us. If it wasn’t serious before, it’s clear how dangerous this is now.
I’m shaken by what happened on our way home from the diner, but staying strong. This is no time to lose my head. Neither of us got shot, thank god. I really hope Ethan wasn’t followed. We made it away safely thanks to Fox’s fast driving, managing to lose the blacked out SUV by luring them into the residential part of Ridgeview where they couldn’t shoot at us without witnesses. That’s what matters.
I peel open a small bandage and stick it over the long wound on Fox’s neck, fingertips lingering on his warm damp skin. My body shakes with a shudder and air rushes past my lips. It hasn’t stopped doing that, even after the shower. My pulse has calmed, but there is still something simmering beneath my skin. For now I ignore it, focusing on getting Fox patched up.
His dark blue eyes watch me with something like recognition reflecting back. I think he knows I’m more rattled than I’m letting on. He uses his thumbs to trace patterns on my hips and with a subtle press he guides me closer between his spread knees, near enough that I feel his breath coast down my chest and across my bare stomach.
My nipples tighten in response. A pulse of heat throbs between my legs and I swallow. I didn’t bother to throw on more than a pair of tight workout shorts and a sports bra after the shower while he only tugged on the jeans he had on this morning.
When we stumbled up the steps to the second floor of Fox’s warehouse, him half-dragging me, we stripped out of our clothes at the door. Pieces of glass clung to my hair, hitting the concrete floor with little pings as I shook it free. Fox pulled me right into the shower to wash off the danger and any lingering pieces too small to see. He took his time running his hands over my body first with a look of deep concentration and protectiveness until he was satisfied that I was glass-free. I did the same to him, carefully pushing my fingers into his thick hair while he silently watched.
Fox ended up with minor scrapes and one deeper cut on his neck. I was sore from how tensely I’d curled into a ball, crouched low and held in place by his arm as he drove us to safety, but the worst I’d end up with is some bruising from smacking into the center console from the tight turns. It’s a miracle neither of us ended up with buckshot embedded in our skin.
Actually, it’s lucky we made it away at all.
These are the people my mother and father work for. People willing to kill Fox, willing to kill me because I’m seen with him.
Do either of them know that I was shot at today?
Would they care?
They’re willing to look the other way and go as far as covering up their friends’ murder so their dirty bosses will keep paying them, so how far is too far? I don’t know if I want to find out just how much they’d sacrifice for their greed.
