Rome's Chance (Reapers MC #6.6)(40)

Oh, no. No fucking way.

I ran after him, catching his arm. This was about as useful as a gnat attacking a bear, and all the anger that’d been building exploded. My mom was dead, and I still didn’t understand how it’d happened. Rome knew, but he said I needed to sleep. Bullshit. Going to bed wouldn’t answer my questions, and it sure as shit wouldn’t bring her back to life.

Fuck him. Fuck him and the doctor and all of them. She’d been alive when he put her in that ambulance, and now she wasn’t.

He reached the car ahead of me, clicking the fob to unlock the doors. I grabbed the passenger side handle and climbed in, because he wasn’t going to win. I couldn’t bring Mom back, but I’d be damned if I’d let him take my car.

“You should go back inside, Randi.”

“Fuck off, Rome. It’s mine, and you aren’t taking it.”

Rome studied me, almost like I was being unreasonable or something. I could practically hear his mental debate. Should I grab her and carry her back into the house? I narrowed my eyes, daring him to do it. He might be bigger than me, but I’d kick and scream the whole time. Wake up the entire goddamned neighborhood, maybe bite him, too.

Then he’d learn what happened to car thieves.

“Okay,” he said finally, gripping the tiny steering wheel, and I realized that for a man his size, this was practically a clown car. If he wasn’t being such a giant douche, I might’ve found it funny. “You win. You can ride with me back to my place.”

“And then you’ll give me the keys?”

“Yup,” he agreed. “I’ll give you the keys. I promise.”





Chapter Twelve



It only took a few minutes to reach Rome’s condo. He parked the car and grabbed the keys, ignoring my outstretched hand. Instead he climbed out, then came around to my side and opened the door for me.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Waiting for you to get out so I can lock up,” he replied. “Unless you don’t care if it’s locked. I don’t lock mine, but I figure since you’re from Missoula now, you’ve probably gotten in the habit.”

I stepped out, lunging for the keys. He held them up and out of my reach, and I heard the car beep as it locked. Then he started walking toward the stairs. What the actual fuck?

“You said you’d give me the keys!” I shouted. Rome stopped, turning back to look at me.

“I will. First thing in the morning. Come upstairs and get some sleep, Randi.”

I stalked after him, furious. “You’re a lying asshole, Rome.”

“Yup, I’m a lying asshole,” he admitted. “And you’re angry because your mom died. I totally get it—when we lost my brother, I smashed my own motorcycle with a baseball bat.”

“I’m angry because you won’t tell me what happened.”

“Fine,” he said, throwing up his hands. “Come inside and I’ll answer all your questions. But you know what? It won’t make you feel any better, because you aren’t really pissed off about me borrowing your car, or what happened in the ambulance. You’re mad because you lost your mom way too young, and now you’ve got two kids to take care of all by yourself.”

“You stole my car,” I insisted, refusing to listen.

Rome ignored the accusation. “You’re mad because it isn’t fair, and some people are a lot better at fighting than crying. So if you want to fight, we can fight. But there is no way on earth you’re getting these car keys back until you’ve had some sleep. The last thing Kayden needs is for his mom and his sister to die in one night because you insisted on driving.”

He held out his arm, gesturing for me to go ahead of him. I stomped up the stairs, still furious, even as part of me wondered if he was right. My mom was dead, but I wasn’t crying.

Wasn’t I supposed to cry?

No. If I started crying, I’d fall apart and I couldn’t do that right now. This wasn’t about me—it was about him. He’d been distracting me because he didn’t want to talk about what’d happened in the ambulance.

Rome unlocked the door and I walked inside, crossed my arms, and glared at him.

“Tell me the truth,” I said. “Did you know my mother was dead when you met us in the ER?”

“Yes and no,” he admitted.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m just an EMT,” he said, shutting the door. “It takes a doctor to declare someone dead. Under extreme circumstances, we can opt not to transport someone who meets obvious criteria. Like, if they’re decapitated, I’m not going to try and give them life support. But your mom had a pulse when we got to her. Her body was still alive.”

“I know. The doctor said her heart stopped in the ambulance.”

“Let’s sit down,” he said. I followed him to the couch, trying to stay calm. But my anger was like a living thing, twisting and turning inside of me. It wanted a target. We sat, Rome facing me. He wore a strange expression, but I didn’t care. I wanted answers.

“So her heart stopped in the ambulance,” I prompted.

“No, it arrested,” he said, like that was supposed to mean something different. He saw my confusion. “Stopped means stopped—zero electrical activity. There’s not much we can do about that. But your mom’s heart was still fibrillating, so we shocked her and tried to get a rhythm. We did CPR. A few minutes later, we reached the hospital and they took over. They were still working on her when I went out to meet you. She was technically alive. But here’s the thing, Randi. I knew it wouldn’t work. Even if they’d saved her heart, she wasn’t going to make it.”