Page 29 of Throttle

“Blood loss could kill you,” I remind him, not that he needs me to.

“It’s a bad graze—that’s all. I’ll get patched up at the clubhouse and be fine. You’ll see.”

Patched up at the clubhouse? He’ll be fine?

How can he know that? How can he be so calm right now when I’m barely holding on to my sanity? He wouldn’t have been shot if I had just let Tony’s men take me that night. And none of those decent people would’ve been hurt either. I don’t know that I can live with this on my conscience…

“Sienna!” Throttle barks and I flinch out of my troubling thoughts. “Whatever the fuck you’re conjuring up in that head of yours, just stop it. This ain’t the first time I’ve taken a bullet and it won’t be the last. This is the life I’ve chosen and I’m fine with that.”

I blink, clearing away the tears filling my eyes faster now.

“I’ve also chosen you and all the shit you bring with you. And if that means dodging bullets every day for the rest of my life, then so be it.”

I love this man. Somewhere along the way, I fell for him and that thought startles me. We’ve only known each other for a short time but I have no doubt that I love him. I’m in love with Ryan Davis, and whenever we get to safety, I’m going to tell him. I’ll tell him?—

BOOM.

Tires squeal and glass crackles while the sound of crunching metal fills my ears. The world spins around me as everything goes dark.

For how long? I’m not sure.

In the distance, I hear faint screaming. But the sound is muffled until the spinning stops and I realize the screams are coming from me. Every muscle in my body hurts and my arms dangle like heavy weights.

“Sienna.” Someone’s calling my name but I can’t see them. “Sienna.” The sound is familiar and soothing. “Sienna!” the voice bellows, and I wince as I tense up.

Cocking my head to the side, I see Throttle’s face, his brows etched with worry. He looks terrified and I want nothing more than to wipe his fears away.

“Talk to me, Princess,” he demands, his gaze scanning every part of me.

I pivot my head and even that small movement hurts. “I’m alright, I think.”

“We gotta get the fuck outta here. Now.” He crawls out from the mangled truck, his movements slow but determined.

When he reaches my side, he helps me climb down, but it hurts to stand, to even breathe at this point. My hand lifts to the side of my head where the throbbing seems to originate. When I pull it back, bright-red liquid coats my fingers and my throat seizes with dread.

This can’t be good.

I glance at our surroundings. We’re on the old highway that runs through town. There’s nothing for miles except an abandoned warehouse just down the hill. My eyes land on a mangled vehicle off the side of the road, and I assume that’s what caused us to crash. But at least Throttle and I are still breathing. Not sure I can say the same about that vehicle’s occupants. The doors are open, but I only see one body. The driver appears to have tumbled out of the car, landing on the pavement in a heap of limbs with his weapon still drawn. He’s not moving.

Good. That’s what you get when you attempt to murder people with your car.

“We have to run,” Throttle tells me, reaching for my hand. Ignoring his own injuries, he carefully drags me along and I grimace. The pain is unbearable, and it’s difficult to walk, let alone jog behind him to keep up with his long strides. But I push everything down, and focus on staying close to his side as he leads us to safety.

Sirens wail in the distance, announcing help has arrived at the courthouse and I’m relieved. This madness needs to end, yet I can’t understand why it happened this way to begin with. Seems excessive if it were just me they were after. But the number of injured people I saw tells me Tony had bigger plans than hunting me down.

When we approach the old warehouse, Throttle peeks inside a dusty window. He removes his leather vest, wrapping it around his hand before punching at the glass. Climbing in first, he turns around to help me, but I cry out in pain.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. We’re almost there,” he assures me, but I’m in bad shape.

This is the second crash I’ve been in within the last several weeks, and I’m barely healed from the first one. Except everything hurts this time. Even my hair hurts. We need to get to a hospital and soon. Throttle’s been shot and who knows the extent of my injuries? My head is fuzzy and my sight grows dim, lulling me to sleep.

“Stay with me, Sienna. Look at me,” Throttle demands, and I manage to muster up a smile.

“I’m okay,” I whisper as my eyes fight to remain on him.

His gaze rakes along my body, taking in the shallow cuts from broken glass on my arms and legs. I can’t tell how bad the gash is on my temple, but it must be of some significance as a warm trickle of blood drips down my face. Throttle swipes it away, then pulls open my suit jacket to reveal a deep wound on my abdomen.

“Fuck!” he curses, and I glance down at the damage.

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