Page 147 of The Price of Forever

“The Fairchilds are going away for ten years,” he said haughtily.

“And they wouldn’t have gone without you working your magic, right?”

“Hell no.” He laughed. “What do I always say? It’s about the connections, baby.” He leaned close, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” I assessed the state of my organs, my responses, my mobility. Everything seemed normal. Or maybe…a little sluggish. “I do have to pee.”

When I stood up, he grabbed my wrist. “You just went.”

“It’s the wine.”

He tightened his grip on me and jerked me backward. Hard. I tumbled back onto the bed, panic streaking through me.

“Maybe you should just stay where you are,” he suggested, draping his arm around my shoulders. His heat coated me like slime. Deep inside, revulsion sputtered to life. But much closer to the surface was a desire to rest. Sluggishness coated my veins, prompting me to relax deeper into his embrace.

“Hmmm.” Now that I thought about it, I was tired. I didn’t need to pee. But the tiredness set off more alarms. I needed to get up. Get out. Tell Seven. I struggled to stand, but his grip around me tightened. My shoulders were crushed together, and I whimpered against the pain. But I couldn’t fight him.

“Hmm?” He laughed, and even through the descending haze I could hear the sarcasm. “Say it again Jordan. Louder this time.” Somehow, in my half-awake state I could tell that he was oozing with accomplishment. The prey was his.

“I can’t…”

“Didn’t think so.” He shoved my shoulder, and I flopped backward.

Eli’s unsettling smirk was the last thing I saw before my eyes drifted shut, and I welcomed the softness and the quiet.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

SEVEN

“Dr. Tutlow….paging Dr. Tutlow…”

The intercom jostled me from my light sleep. I’d been dozing, sitting upright in my chair in the hospital waiting room. I inhaled sharply, straightening and rubbing my eyes. The people who’d been the seats around me earlier that morning were gone. How fucking long had I been here?

I tried to find some clarity, looking around, searching absentmindedly for my phone. I found it in the pocket of my coat, but I hissed as my hand brushed against the wool.

That’s right. My knuckles. Completely busted.

I inspected my hand. I’d washed off the blood sometime around two a.m., once Jordan had been admitted to the hospital for overdosing on a drug cocktail that included Rohypnol. The only thing I was worried about now was whether she’d wake up or not. I had no idea how much she ingested, what the long-term effects were, or what the risks were right now. The staff wouldn’t tell me because I wasn’t family.

The only thing I knew for certain was that I’d left Eli a bloody, broken mess in that bedroom. I came into the room just before Eli pushed his bare dick into her. The sight of him half-naked, settled between her legs, her dress bunched up to her waist, was a sight I might never forget. Rage lashed through me again, and my fingers curled into fists.

I hadn’t decided to maul him, I simply acted. I heard the crunch of bones as he hit the wall. Made sure I broke his jaw, left both his eyes bruised, and broke his nose. And that was only the start of what he deserved.

I escaped with Jordan’s deadweight over my shoulder before anyone realized what I’d done to Eli. And now, I waited for the police to show up or someone from his “connections” to swoop in and take me out. I didn’t doubt he’d try—if he was even conscious yet.

I checked my phone. It was time to call the brothers. I’d meant to do it a couple of hours ago, but I’d nodded off. I dialed Damian.

He answered, sounding groggy.

“Sorry for the early call,” I said.

“Is everything okay?”

“No. Jordan’s at New York-Presbyterian Hospital. I’ll send the exact address and room number.”

Damian inhaled sharply. “Wait…what?”

“I’ll explain everything when you get here,” I said. “Just come. She needs her brothers.”

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