Page 81 of Inflamed Touch


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“Douche, fuckin’ douche.”

“And you were what? Saintly?” I ask.

“Are you defending him?”

“No. I just . . . I don’t want trouble, and he’s got powerful friends in town, and—”

“I’m no longer twenty-two, Nadia.” He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Wanna get the fuck out of Dodge?”

“Yes.” Then I stop and grab his phone to look at the time. “Diego? Where’s Josie? She should be here by now.”

* * *

The lights are still on when we both reach the church hall, and her car’s parked on the street still.

She often rides her bicycle or walks, but today, she drove. My heart thumps at the sight of the car.

“Diego?”

He locks eyes with mine. “Wait in your car.”

“No.”

“Fuckin’ stubborn pain in the ass woman. Come on.”

Together, we hurry to the hall.

At the last minute, he pushes me to the wall on the outside, makes me wait there, and he goes in alone.

“Nadia?” I start to shake at the eerie calm of his voice. “Call 911.”

I do that, and then I burst in and almost throw up.

Josie’s on the floor, face bloodied, arm at a strange angle, eyes closed.

“She’s alive,” he says, “but we shouldn’t move her.”

“Diego . . .” He takes hold of me. “This . . . why?”

“Best guess? This is a message to back the fuck off.

As the sirens grow louder, Diego leaves me sitting next to her as he greets the EMTs. I can only think of one thing.

This is my fault.

Entirely.

ChapterNineteen

DIEGO

“I hate hospitals.”

Nadia rests her head on my shoulder in the waiting room. I fudged it a bit and said Nadie’s her family.

“Me too.” She sighs. “I always get nervous when I step in, even if it’s for something like visiting someone who’s given birth. It’s like they’ll find out something’s wrong with me by osmosis.”

I squeeze her thigh. “And here I thought nothing bothered the indestructible Longstocking.”

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