Page 91 of Wicked Fury

Can't find Nicole. I'll tell cops everything. Please don't kill me.

I quirk an eyebrow at Lincoln, and all he does is shrug.

“Told you, I had it handled.”

And then, we hear the shrill wail of sirens, blue and red lights flooding the parking lot, painting our faces in stark shades.

Chapter 38

Lincoln

The antiseptic bites the air, sharper than the tension coiled in this cramped bathroom. I’m kneeling before Iris, a cotton swab poised between my fingers ready to dab and burn her torn skin.

“Stay still, Ali,” I murmur, my voice unintentionally softening as the swab grazes against a particularly nasty scratch marring the porcelain skin of her shoulder. My thumb skims lightly over her uninjured collarbone, seeking a silent apology for the sting. She hisses through clenched teeth, but her green eyes hold fast to mine, defiant sparks within their depths.

“Your bedside manner sucks, Satan’s spawn,” she snaps, but a beautiful smile plays on those full lips, the ones that have whispered secrets and screamed my name while I come inside her.

“Shh,” I chide, half-teasing, half-serious. “Nobody told you to go all ‘float like a butterfly, sting like a bee’ on swimfan barbie.” The smirk widens, and I can’t help but return it with one of my own.

The practiced art of cleaning and bandaging is disrupted by the shrill cry of my phone. I glance at the screen; it’s my attorney. My grip tightens around the device. I press ‘answer’ and bring it to my ear, bracing for impact.

“Talk to me, Rex.” I demand, the words clipped, each syllable a bullet.

“Lincoln, good news—the rape and assault charge has been dropped. There wasn’t enough evidence to support Nicole’s claims especially with your alibi,” the attorney says, his voice a mix of relief and caution.

“Damn right there wasn’t,” I growl, my free hand unconsciously balling into a fist. “And the drugs?”

“Still an issue. They’re pushing hard, Lincoln. You need to be careful. Any slip-up could?—”

“Careful?” I cut him off, snorting derisively. “I’ve been stitched up more times than a damn baseball, counselor. Careful’s not in my playbook. But winning is.”

Rex replies, the sound of shuffling papers echoing over the line. “She was taken into custody over the false accusations against you?—”

“Should hope so.” My smirk is as sharp as broken glass.

“—but she managed to seduce a rookie cop. She’s out again, Lincoln. There’s a BOLO for her now.”

“Are you kidding me?” I yell and I see Iris jump. “A rookie? That’s just...”

“Embarrassing, yes,” he interjects. “But we need to stay focused. This isn’t over yet.”

“Focused?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. It’s dark, bitter. “I’m beyond focused, Rex. I’m laser-fucking-precise. What’s our move?”

“Keep a low profile. Avoid confrontation. Let me handle the legal side.”

“Keep me posted.” I hang up without waiting for a reply, my attention snapping back to Iris. Her eyes are wide, concern etching lines into her forehead that don’t belong there.

“Everything will be fine, angel,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. I gently wrap a bandage around her wrist, tucking in the end with precision. “Trust me.”

“Always,” she replies, and it hits me then—the weight of her trust, it’s heavy and I didn’t expect to feel that way.

“Good,” I whisper, and with a final inspection of her bandaged wounds, I stand, determined to right the wrongs that dare to touch her. “Because it’s time to end this.”

The predatory part of me can almost taste the violence on the horizon, a bitter tang against the backdrop of Iris’ floral scent. It’s a dark craving, one I intend to satisfy.

The stench of antiseptic barely masks the coppery tang of blood—her blood. My nostrils flare, but my hands remain steady.

“Lincoln?” Iris’s voice is small, uncertain, a flickering candle in a gale.

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