Dirty Ride (Wind Dragons MC #3.5)(17)

“You’re insane,” I whisper, puffing out a breath. “Thank God you’re okay, though. I don’t know what I would have done if something happened.” I pause, and then add, “Something more than what you seem to think is a casual stabbing.”

He chuckles, then groans. “Now is not the time to make me laugh.”

I groan back and then kiss his shoulder. “You need to stop getting stabbed, babe.”

“I’ll try my hardest,” he says, sounding tired.

“Good night,” I say, yawning.

“’Night, darlin’.”

I’m half asleep when I hear him say, “I’m not going to let anything happen to me, not now that I have you.”

I must have been dreaming.



“Are you angry at me because I got stabbed? It was hardly my choice, and not like I volunteered for it,” he growls, shaking his head in disbelief. “Stop being angry.”

I purse my lips. “I’m not angry; I’m just worried about you, and yes, maybe it’s coming out as anger. Sorry, but I’ve never really dealt with a situation like this before, you know.”

His voice gentles when he says, “I know, Valentina, I know. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it at all. But it happened, and I’m fine, you have nothing to worry about. Now come and sit next to me before I have to carry you over here, and then I will be in pain.”

“Blackmail,” I grumble, sitting down next to him. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m hungry for you,” he says in a husky tone, running his hand up my bare thigh.

“We’re not having sex,” I repeat for the fourth time.

Ardan scowls and mutters, “I’ll kill that bastard again, the cock block.”

I roll my eyes at his joke. “Very funny. Now do you want to eat? I made that pasta, and I’m going to have some.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding like a surly little boy, which makes me snicker. I serve both of us, then return to the couch with the plates.

“Thanks,” he says, taking his and digging in before I can pick up my fork.

“See, you were hungry,” I say before taking a bite.

“Sex beats food,” he says, grinning. “At least sex with you does.”

“Stop being cute,” I say, chewing and swallowing. “Do you think I don’t want to? Because I do, I just don’t think we should be f*cking a few days after you got stabbed in the chest.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold my hand up. “Come on, that’s fair. At least wait until tomorrow or the day after, please.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, his tone demanding no argument. “And this pasta is amazing, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, happy to be appreciated. It’s something I never really experienced in my last relationship. I remember once I made a simple dinner for Darren, some toasted sandwiches, and he threw it on the ground in a fit of rage and said it was shit. It actually makes me feel weak to think about everything I put up with. But then I remind myself I got out, and there’s no point looking back.

“Do you want to go out for dinner tonight? There’s a place I want to take you that does the best ribs in the city.”

I nod. “If you’re feeling up to it.”

He flashes me a look that says he’s clearly done with my fussing. “Oh, don’t you worry, I’m feeling up to it all right.”

I try to hide my amusement and fail, my lips twitching and him catching it.

“Valentina?”

“Yeah?” I reply, looking down at my plate.

“I love you.”

I lift my head up, my eyes wide.

“Wh-what?”

“I love you,” he repeats, so simply, as easy as taking another breath. “I just wanted you to know.”

He continues to eat while I sit in stunned silence.

He loves me?

So soon?

Is it too soon?

Yes, it’s definitely too soon. What am I supposed to say?

Do I love him?

I think it’s more of a leaning toward loving him. Is that an answer? I don’t think he’d appreciate me saying that, but I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for an answer right now while I’m thinking this.

“Stop overthinking,” he says, now watching me. “And don’t say anything; I don’t expect you to.”

“Okay,” I reply, drawing the word out, feeling relieved that I don’t have to explain what I’m feeling. I still don’t understand it.

He continues on as if he hadn’t just told me something that changed my world.





TEN




A COUPLE of weeks later, when my phone vibrates with a text, I smile, thinking it’s Ardan, but it’s not.

Found you.

It’s him. It’s Darren.

Fuck.

To think I was hoping he’d let it go, that he’d let me move on, was stupid. I should have known better. Nothing in life comes easy for me; I always have to fight for it, to push through, to survive, and this is no exception. I need to tell Ardan the whole story with Darren, because if something goes down, he needs to know the background. At the same time, I don’t want to pull him into my mess, and I don’t want him to think I’m asking him to use his contacts, even though I know he’d have some. This might drag him and the Wind Dragons down, and that’s the last thing I want. What if something happens and Ardan or his men end up in prison—or worse? How could I live with that?