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Mandy nodded.
“He didn’t hurt you before I got here, did he?”
She shook her head. “No,” her whispered answer made him realize how much the chaos unnerved her.
“C’mere.” He stretched out his arm, but she ignored him and picked up her duffel bag.
“What are you doin’?”
“What I came here to do. Leave.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about Ajax anymore.”
“I don’t know what that was all about.” She waved her hand around the room. “And if what you said was true, then I thank you for at least warning my brother, but it just proves my point.”
“What point?”
“That both of you live in a world filled with violence.”
“This whole fuckin’ world is filled with violence.”
“You’re absolutely right, but I don’t have to deal with it in my home.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and turned toward the front door.
“Ya know, I could’ve let that hit go down, especially after he and that other fucker jumped me at the fight, but I didn’t.”
“And I said I appreciate that, but it doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about anything to do with us.”
Mamba followed her to the door. “If I hadn’t come in here, I’m pretty sure he would’ve been using you as a punching bag.”
“Right again, and you just keep proving my point.” She placed her hand on the doorknob and looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m so tired of all of it.”
“I fuckin’ saved you.” He slapped his broad palm against the door, just above her head.
“At gunpoint.” Mandy motioned to his gun still dangling from his other hand.
They stared at each other for a few long minutes.
“Fine.” Mamba sure didn’t feel fine. He felt like shit.
He stuck his gun into his waistband, but when he pushed away from the door, the room tilted. He grabbed onto the back of the chair to steady himself, but a cold sweat crept up his spine. For a second, he thought he’d barf on her living room rug.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Mandy’s palm cupped his cheek. “You’re burning up.”
He heaved out another breath, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah.” He squeezed his eyes shut against the sickening nausea.
She circled her arm around his waist and led him to the couch. He collapsed into the soft cushions, and when the room spun, he rested his head on the pillows behind him.
A minute later, Mandy nudged him as she held a glass of water. “Drink this.”
He took the glass and drained it, soothing his dry throat.
“Are you all right?”
“Hadda go back to Urgent Care 'cause of my arm. Doc drained it, said I had an infection, gave me a shitload of pills, and told me to rest.”
“I see. And your version of resting is storming into someone’s house, having a standoff with my deranged brother, and then pulling a gun?”
