N9ne: The Tale of Kevin Clearwater (King, #9)(36)

“Took you long enough,” Nine groans.

I adjust my dress and smooth down my hair, still breathing heavily while Nine looks unaffected by what just took place.

“Why, you’re welcome for saving your life, brother. I’m happy to have been of service,” the man says, tipping an imaginary hat.

Nine chuckles, then hisses and grabs his arm. “Lenny, meet our reinforcements, otherwise known as my asshole brother,” he groans out.

Brother. It makes sense. I can see the similarities. They look to be about the same height, and they have almost the same hazel-colored eyes. The thing that’s the most strikingly similar between the two is their smiles. Both slightly crooked and like they’re hiding something wicked. Seeing Nine’s smile on another man is downright eerie.

“That’s me! Howdy, lady I don’t know who’s sitting in my brother’s car.” The man extends a heavily tattooed hand. “The name is Samuel Clearwater, but my friends call me Preppy…as well as everyone else.”

I skip the small talk when I notice that more and more blood is gushing from Nine’s arm. “Shit. You’re hit.”

Preppy leans into the car over me, pressing me into the seat with my nose in his shirt. He presses his finger into Nine’s arm who in return pushes Preppy off of him with his good arm.

“Fucker,” Nine swears.

Preppy smooths down his dress shirt with his hands and straightens his bow-tie. “That wasn’t very neighborly, brother.”

“We should get him to a hospital.”

“No,” Nine says.

“A hospital? For what?” Preppy asks, not looking nearly as concerned or panicked as I feel.

“For that!” I say, pointing to all the blood. “Because he was shot.”

“That?” He points at Nine’s wound. “My kid’s done worse when he fell roller skating. That’s just a fucking scratch. In my professional medical opinion, nothing some super glue, duct tape, and a Preppy super smoothie can’t cure.”

“You’re a doctor?” I ask, skeptically.

“No, but I play one on TV. BRB, kids!” Preppy runs back to his car and comes back seconds later with a huge Styrofoam cup.

“Shit, yeah, give me that.” Nine grabs the cup with his good hand. Holding it between his knees, he forgoes the straw, popping off the plastic lid. Raising it to his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in quick succession as he swallows.

“What exactly is a Preppy super smoothie?” I ask. Whatever it is, it has to be good because Nine doesn’t even pause his swallowing to breathe until the cup is completely empty.

Preppy smiles proudly. It’s kind of like a regular smoothie, only better. Let’s see…” He ticks off ingredients on his fingers as he lists them off. “Locally sourced organic fruit and veggies You’ve got your blueberries, strawberries, bananas, spinach…oh, and of course, kale. You gotta have kale. It’s a superfood. Or so my wife tells me. Anywhoseit, that’s all blended together with a yogurt made from non-GMO grass-fed cows right here in Logan’s Beach. It’s so fresh it’s practically right from the teat.”

Nine wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Much better.”

“See?” Preppy says triumphantly. “Preppy’s super smoothie works yet again.”

Nine sits up, suddenly seeming more alert and in a lot less pain. However, he’s still bleeding. He rips his shirt at the bottom and starts to tie it around his wound, but he can’t do it with one hand. “Here, let me,” I say, taking the fabric and tightening it around his wound. “There. Hopefully, this will stop the bleeding for a while.”

When I look up, I realize how close my face is to Nine’s, and suddenly, I’m aware that my breasts are pressed to his side. He licks his lower lip while staring at mine. My entire body heats.

I’m reminded we’re not alone when Preppy continues talking from outside the car. “I think I forgot an ingredient…”

I crawl back over to the driver’s seat, but the lingering heat and the memory of his touch, the feel of him growing hard beneath me, lingers. I think it’s stayed with him too because his eyes rake over me slowly, from my neck to my breasts then back to my lips.

I shiver.

The cocky asshole smirks when he notices the hair on my arms standing on end.

Preppy finishes off whatever tiny amount of smoothie might be left in the cup with a loud slurp then presses his fingers together and closes his eyes, silently mouthing the ingredients yet again. Suddenly, his eyes spring open and he snaps his fingers, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot!” He holds his thumb and index fingers an inch apart. “There also may or may not be a wee smidgeon of cocaine in it.” He leans into the car “Just kidding!” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “There’s a shit-ton of cocaine in it.”





Chapter Fourteen





LENNY





The tension in the truck is thick and choking me. We narrowly escaped a high-speed car chase where we were being shot at.

And that kiss.

It was as explosive as the grenade.

I am way too sober for this.

“Tell me something. How does cocaine help your pain? Wouldn’t say…a painkiller be better?” I ask.