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I know it.
He can’t convince me otherwise.
But then the same thing happens like last time he held me.
A blanket of safety is wrapped around me, my heart and lungs obeying his calm voice and slowing down to match perfectly with his.
I don’t know how long he held me and for the attack to stop. Maybe minutes. Not longer than an hour. Or maybe it was.
“What happened?” I finally ask, imagining the worst. “Did the tire go flat?”
Shane is way too quiet.
I open my eyes and stare at him. “We could have died, right? The tire blew?”
His lips roll against each other, and there is anger in his ocean-colored eyes. Those waves are practically pounding now, the storm inside him absolute chaos.
“It’s worse than that,” he admits. “And you were right. Something was wrong.”
Not even sure I want to know, I ask anyway.
“What could possibly be worse?”
Another wave of anger… I can feel it in the clench of his chest and biceps.
Slowly, he closes his eyes then opens them again, his teeth grinding when he responds.
“The tire didn’t blow. We almostlostthe front tire. We have two studs barely hanging on that kept it from falling off entirely.”
Confusion clouds my thoughts. I’m not a fucking mechanic, so I barely understand what he’s telling me.
“So you fucked up when building your precious Beauty?”
He shakes his head, his stare darting to the car before returning to me.
“Not a chance. I made sure everything was right. I check everything almost daily.”
“Then how did we almost lose a tire, Shane?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Too damn quiet. That storm inside him is now thick with violent lightning and gale force winds.
“Someone must have loosened the lug nuts. It caused the rim to sheer off most of the studs when the nuts fell off and the rim lost balance.”
“Why would someone do that?”
His teeth are now clenched, and his jaw looks so tight it hurts.
“Because they were trying to kill us.”
Shane
Scott is a dead man.
I don’t give a shit if he’s ex-military.
I don’t care if he was so fucking badass that he was special ops.
I don’t give the first flying fuck if the man can snap my neck in less than a fucking second with one hand while balancing a plate on a stick with the other hand and juggling eight balls with his foot simultaneously.
