Page 8 of Sizzling

Running my hands over Briar’s body, I tensed the moment I saw the blood oozing from the silky fabric on her shoulder. Motherfucker. Sitting up, I moved the dress back gently to see how bad the damage was.

“He shot me,” she whispered. The shock in her tone was better than her being hysterical.

“Grazed you,” I corrected, feeling relief. “You’re gonna be fine.”

She let out a long, steady breath. “You’re sure? It hurts like hell.”

I nodded. “Positive,” I replied, pulling my shirttail from my pants and ripping a long strip from the expensive shirt, then taking it to wrap around her wound to help stop the bleeding.

“Get her to Maeme’s,” Stellan ordered as he walked up behind me. “Have Drew check her out.”

Standing up, I turned to see what had taken place behind me. Thatcher and Jameson were already gone. The party had cleared out. Guns would do that. Everyone had run but Briar. She was stupid or fucking stubborn. Perhaps both.

• Four •

“We’ve arrived at the dungeon.”

Briar

Clenching my teeth tightly, I tried not to make a sound as the pain in my shoulder throbbed. Resting my head back on the black leather seat, I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. This wasn’t my biggest problem. It was a minor inconvenience. The fact that I was in an expensive SUV with a member of the Southern Mafia was my real problem. I needed to get fixed up and back to Dovie, then figure out what we were going to do next. We didn’t need to move again so soon. It cost too much money.

“Take me to the hospital,” I told Storm Kingston as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“No,” he replied.

Great. He was going to argue with an injured woman. He really didn’t like me.

“I have good insurance. Just drop me off at the door,” I lied.

“We don’t take this kind of thing to the hospital. We handle it ourselves.”

I inhaled deeply through my nose, wishing I had something to drink. Anything to take the edge off. “I’m sure you all keep it to yourselves, but I’m not one of you. I want to go to a real doctor.”

“Drew is a real doctor. He’s on the board at the hospital you want me to take you to.”

The annoyance in his tone pissed me off. What did he have to be annoyed about? I was the one who had been shot.

I winced, then opened my eyes to look over at him in the driver’s seat. He was so stupid hot; it was unfair. His jawline was chiseled, his lashes too long, his mouth almost too wide; a small scar on his right cheekbone didn’t take away from his looks at all. It only added to the sexiness.

“What if I don’t want to go to the dark dungeons of yours to see a doctor?”

He smirked, but didn’t look over at me. “Then, you should have left when I told you to.”

I sucked in a breath and waited a second for the shooting pain to ease some. This doctor he was determined to take me to had better have some pain meds. If he thought he was going to stitch me up without giving me something first, he was very wrong.

“I’m realizing my mistake,” I replied tightly.

“A little too late for that,” he pointed out, glancing over at me. He frowned then and reached over to open the glove compartment. The silver flask he pulled out had a K engraved on it. “Here. Drink some of this.”

I reached out to take it with my good arm, but when I tried to move my other arm so I could open it, I let out a small cry before I could stop it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, snatching the flask from my hands, opening it up, then handing it back to me.

I took it, watching him closely. Either I was delirious from the pain and blood loss or he was concerned. For me. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he sped up. Huh. Just like I’d expected. Storm wasn’t cold with shut-off emotions. He might kill and torture people, but they weren’t innocent. If they were stupid enough to get mixed up with the Mafia, then they asked for it by pissing them off. Like Jameson.

“Is he dead?” I asked.

“Jameson? No. But you’ll need to find a new sugar daddy. He won’t be available any longer,” he said with sarcasm dripping from his words.

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