Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2)(70)
The forest got closer and he brushed his mouth over mine.
“Can’t tell you how worried you had me, Brysen.” His voice was gruff and I wanted to touch his face, but even moving my eyelids sent pain shooting across the surface of my skin.
“I got pushed down the stairs.”
“I know. You fell down an entire flight of stairs onto the floor. The back of your head split open. You lost a ton of blood and have been unconscious for four hours. The doctor was worried you bruised your brain.”
That all sounded pretty serious. I groaned again and focused on something that I could actually get my head around. “What happened to my hair?”
He sighed against my lips and straightened up. He cupped my cheek in his palm and flashed that killer dimple at me.
“You’re gonna need a haircut when you get back on your feet. You have no less than thirty stitches holding the back of your head closed. You cracked your noggin good, pretty girl.”
I swore under my breath and blinked up at him.
“This sucks, Race.” I knew that he would know I meant more than having my hair butchered.
“He’s escalating. I don’t think you’re safe, even with Booker on your ass. I’m finding somewhere to move you and Karsen until I can get a bead on this guy. I’m done playing around and waiting to see what he has in store for you next. You aren’t something I’m willing to risk.”
Well, wasn’t that enough to have my heart melting, or it would have been if I could feel my heart through all the pain and agony flooding my entire system.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
His head dropped down again, and this time his kiss had a fierceness behind it I could taste.
“You’re stuck here for a little while. We need to make sure you’re a hundred percent. I’m gonna ask Booker to stay here with you, and I’m going to find somewhere safe to stash your sister. Then I’m going to rattle every cage I can find until this * falls out of it.”
He straightened up and reached for my limp hand. I squeezed his fingers and let my eyes drift closed.
“You can’t take my sister to a chop shop. Thank you for wanting to keep her safe, but that isn’t any kind of place for her, Race.”
He chuckled a little. “It’s only a chop shop sometimes, but I know she can’t go there. I have something else in mind. Just trust me, Brysen.”
I pried my eyes back open so he could see what I was feeling inside of my gaze. I hoped it showed through the pain.
“I do. I didn’t think I could, but more than anyone else in my life right now, you are the one constant I trust.”
“I’m going to take care of you.”
I let my eyes slide back closed and squeezed his fingers again. Karsen’s voice was right outside the door and I heard the low rumble of another voice asking her questions. I was ready to let it go. I couldn’t hold on to everything anymore, and I wasn’t lying. I did trust Race and I knew he meant it when he said he was going to take care of me. I think I was finally ready to let him do it, and even more than that, I was ready to let him help me take care of my sister. I just hoped he didn’t let either one of us down because I knew, just knew, if Race failed, no one was going to make it out of this situation alive.
He whispered a soft good-bye and told me he would be back as soon as he could. He also reminded me that Booker, in all his hulking and threatening-ness, would be right outside my door, so I should rest easy and not worry about anyone getting to me while I couldn’t move. That, of course, was easier said than done.
He was gone and my sister replaced him. I forced a wincing smile for her but couldn’t pull my heavy eyelids back open. I tugged on her hand when she picked mine up and demanded, “How bad is my hair—really?”
Her quick intake of breath was all the answer I needed. I hoped when Race finally did unearth my stalker I got a minute alone with whoever it was and some scissors. Payback was a bitch.
Chapter 16
Race
I WAS GETTING FRUSTRATED, and as a result I was getting careless. It was Saturday night; I was tired and I was sick of no one having any of the answers I needed. I was pissed off that Booker had been the one to take Brysen to the location I had secured for her and Karsen. The doctors at the hospital had kept her under observation for three full days, but she was out of the danger zone now, and the only lasting effects of the fall were a dull headache and a terrible haircut. I wanted to be with her, but between fight night happening on Friday and the burning need to find whoever it was that was terrorizing her, all I had managed was a few quick visits and a few rushed phone calls. It made me feel like an *, but her safety was more important to me than anything else. I should be the one taking her home from the hospital. I should be the one guiding her to safety—not Booker. It sucked that I had other things I had to take care of. So here I was, back at a university party. This time, Bax was with me, and this time, I was a hundred times more dangerous because I wasn’t here to get paid. I was here for information.
I was on the back deck, the same back deck I had dragged Brysen across what felt like a lifetime ago. The back door had been fixed, but these college kids obviously hadn’t gotten any smarter. The one I picked to shake down was friends with the frat guy who had pulled the gun on me and subsequently ended up with a broken neck. When I hauled his drunken, struggling ass through the party crowd to somewhere that was more secluded, he had made a big production of calling me names, telling me he didn’t owe me shit, and trying to posture like he was some kind of big shot. The moron had already seen what happened when I got a gun pulled on me, and like his friend, he was too young and arrogant to have any kind of redeeming qualities as far as I could tell. When he took a sloppy swing at me, my paper-thin patience shredded.