Deviant (Boys of Winter #3) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,86
I pant before slowly sucking in a breath and trying to think of anything but the pain. “It’s been her all along. She wants to take me out and claim my mother’s identity so she can have it all for herself.”
“Fucking hell,” Carver mutters, shaking his head. “How the fuck did we miss a twin sister?”
I shake my head, wishing I knew.
“We’re not going to let them win,” Carver tells me just as King strides back through the office door.
“He didn’t get far. The boys are taking him back to Winter’s place and we’ll ‘talk’ to him there,” he explains before dropping down beside me and cradling my head. “But the real mystery is how the fuck do you keep getting yourself in this situation?”
I shrug my shoulder, cringing at the pain the movement causes. “Beats me,” I say. “But if someone doesn’t get some epic doses of morphine in me soon, you’re all going to be feeling it.”
CHAPTER 22
The sunrise peeks out over the horizon as I lay across the back of Carver’s Escalade. Technically, I should be lying in a hospital bed right now, but considering everything, the guys thought it’d be safer to break my ass out and take me home.
I can only imagine what the doctors and nurses must be thinking right now, but Grayson has enough medical training to take care of me. Don’t ask me how though. I thought he’d only just finished school like the rest of us. So it came as a shock when he explained, not only had all the boys been trained in weaponry skills, combat, and martial arts, but Grayson was trained as a field medic. He won’t be performing heart surgery anytime soon, but he could keep us alive until help arrived.
To be honest, I shouldn’t be so surprised. I don’t know why every time the boys open their mouths and give me just a snippet of new information about themselves, it surprises the ever-loving shit out of me. Anyone would think that I’d be used to it by now. When I was bleeding out on my parents’ garage floor, he remained cool, calm, and collected as he fought to keep me alive.
It’s been a long-ass night. After waiting for what felt like forever for the ambulance to arrive at Harding’s place and having to deal with his confused and panicked wife, I ended up in yet another surgery. It was nothing like the first one though. The stab wound wasn’t nearly as bad as the gunshot wound, but the doctors wanted to be thorough and make sure that everything that’s inside my body was still where it was supposed to be. The doctor stitched me back up, forced some pain meds into my system and whacked a few bandages on me.
I was technically all good to go, but the doctor required me to wait a few days just to make sure I was healing properly. After all, if I were to get up and start moving around, I would risk opening my stitches, and nobody wants that—apart from the guys, apparently.
When Cruz mentioned the hospital policy that states the cops must be called when patients come in with stab or gunshot wounds, the boys all shared a look. So, now we’re here, flying down the highway.
Carver drives over a bump and I groan, gripping onto my stomach and glaring into the front seat. “Jesus Christ. I know you’ve been dying to get me bouncing around in the backseat of your car, but fuckkkkkk,” I groan, spitting the words through my clenched jaw, “the goal is to avoid all the fucking potholes. Is it really that hard to drive in a straight fucking line?”
Carver takes a moment, slowly breathing in and out, calming himself before tightening his grip on the steering wheel and purposefully hitting another bump. “It’s not too fucking late,” he murmurs. “We can still ditch her on the side of the road. She’s on enough pain meds. She’ll just fall asleep and forget about it till morning.”
Grayson smothers a laugh and turns around in his seat to meet my hard stare. “Carver’s driving isn’t what’s important right now. The real question is why the fuck you thought it was a good idea to walk out of the house in the middle of the night, the same fucking day we get home to find our place ransacked and your dog dead on your bed.”