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“You kidding me? That asshole ran at the first sign of trouble. He’s probably running toward the border as we speak.”
I let out an agonized grunt when Stone takes the corner too fast, and my arm slams against the door. “This isn’t some Texas back road,” I shout to Stone.
He laughs. “Bald tires, my bad.”
“Talking more shit about Ace’s truck?”
He shrugs. “This ain’t a proper truck, and I’ll be happy to tell him myself.”
“Boys,” Maven shouts. “This is cute and all, but seriously, we need to get this checked out. It might just be a flesh wound, but if it gets infected, you’ll be walking around with one arm.”
I wrap my left arm around her and kiss her cheek. “As long as it’s not my shooting and jacking off hand, I’m good.”
“This isn’t funny, Wilder.” She shrugs off my touch and folds her arms, eyes glued to the road ahead. She’s clearly pissed off.
“This isn’t my first flesh wound, Maven, and it’s probably not going to be my last. I’ll get it checked out if it’ll make you feel better, butnotat the hospital. All right?”
She shrugs. “Do whatever you want, Wilder. That’s exactly what you’re going to do anyway.”
“Maven,” I reach out to comfort her, and she puts up a hand to stop me.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m not yours to worry about, but I’m glad you’re not dead. I guess.”
“Ouch,” Stone whispers softly, but in the truck, it might as well be a shout. “I think she’s pissed, man.”
“She is,” Maven says so loudly it echoes in the truck. “She is very fucking pissed. Just take me back to my cell.”
Angry, I can handle, but when she reaches up to swipe away her tears, well, that shit hurts more than the bullet hole in my arm.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maven
“So what you’re telling me,” I start, turning to Wilder and then Stone, “what youbothare telling me is that we’re just going to slap a fucking band-aid on thisgunshot woundand call it a day?” I shake my head and swipe away tears, shaking with disbelief at how flippant these men are over a gunshot wound.
“Probably a butterfly band-aid,” Stone says, snickering like it’s all a big damn joke.
My hands shake in fear at the danger Wilder is in. “Look, maybe you don’t give a fuck about yourself, your well-being, or your life, but I do. You went in there trying to help me, to look after me, and despite the fact that your MC is holding me hostage, I don’t want you to die.”
Wilder’s eyes darken, and his jaw tenses. “What makes you think I don’t give a fuck about myself?”
A bitter laugh escapes. “You mean other than the fact that you refuse to get any medical attention for a gunshot wound that could quite easily become infected? Gee, you’re right, Wilder. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I’m furious right now, but you know what? Fuck it. If he’s all right dying from a perfectly treatable condition, who am I to intervene?
“Aw, Maven, you’re worried about me.”
I fold my arms across my chest and keep my gaze on the scene through the window, which is mostly concrete and double yellow lines.I’m not worried,I say to myself and gnaw on the inside of my jaw to avoid responding to him.
“She’s mad, dude.” The Viking is far too amused about all of this, and I shoot a glare his way. “Super mad.”
“Should we get her a cape?” Wilder snickers in reply.
Still, I keep my mouth closed and wonder to myself, how is this my life right now? How am I surrounded by two hunky bikers when not so long ago, I was dating a khaki-clad car salesman? If they aren’t worried, then I’m not either. Wilder, despite a mind-blowing orgasm, isn’t mine to worry about.
“Maven,” he sighs and drops a hand on my thigh.
I ignore the heat that sears through my jeans and down to my flesh, ignore the weight and the comfort his touch gives me. It’s all just an illusion.
