Page 34 of The Highwaymen

So why hadn't he taken the shot?

I glared at Stu's blood-splattered profile, trying to puzzle it out through the pounding in my skull. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead on the road, his jaw muscles twitching as he clenched his teeth. A vein throbbed in his temple.

“Ungrateful little shit,” he muttered.

My head spun, thoughts churning like clothes in a washing machine. I slumped against the seat, watching Stu through heavy-lidded eyes. The first light of dawn painted the angles of his face in shades of gold and shadow, catching in the blood that streaked his skin. He looked like some ancient god of war, fierce and terrible in his fury.

I couldn't make sense of it. Stu had the perfect shot at Romeo, could have ended that asshole once and for all. But instead, he hesitated. And for what? To avoid hitting me? Since when did I rank above revenge on Stu's twisted priorities?

The pounding in my skull intensified, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the stabbing pain. Nausea roiled in my gut and I breathed slow and shallow, fighting the urge to puke all over the cab. Last thing I needed was to choke on my own vomit after surviving a fucking drug lord's betrayal.

“So what now?” I managed.

“You two are going to see the doc. Then we’ll deal with the fucking fallout.” Stu struck the steering wheel. “Shit! Fuck!”

The truck lurched over another pothole, and I bit back a groan as pain lanced through my skull. My vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges. I clung to consciousness through sheer, stubborn determination.

I focused on Stu, on the raw fury emanating from him in palpable waves. His knuckles were white on the wheel, tendons standing out like steel cables beneath his blood-smeared skin. The muscles in his jaw worked as he ground his teeth together.

I'd seen Stu angry before, but never like this. This went beyond mere rage into something primal and volcanic. It thrilled me even as it terrified me, sending shivers racing down my spine to coil hot and tight in my gut.

Stu was a force of nature in the seat beside me, all coiled menace and leashed aggression. I could practically feel the heat of his anger radiating off him, could almost taste the violence crackling in the air between us. It was a dark and heady cocktail, dizzying in its intensity.

My cock twitched and began to swell, pressing against the jeans I’d yanked on as soon as we got on the road. Apparently, my libido had no sense of self-preservation. Getting turned on by Stu when he was in this mood was like playing with a lit stick of dynamite.

But I couldn't help it. Stu's fury called to something deep inside me, something savage and brutal and hungry.

My cock throbbed insistently, aching with need. I shifted in my seat, trying to find a position that didn't press directly on my swelling erection. But there was no relief.

I wanted him. Wanted to feel all that seething, barely leashed violence focused solely on me. Wanted to be pinned beneath the crushing weight of his fury, battered by the force of his rage until pleasure and pain blurred into one searing, electric sensation.

My cock jerked, a fresh pulse of blood surging into its already engorged length. A low groan escaped my throat before I could bite it back.

Stu's eyes flicked to me, narrowing. “How bad’s the pain?”

I licked my cracked lips, tasting blood and salt. “I'll live,” I managed, my own voice rough and throaty with lust.

Stu grunted. “You fucking better.”

The sun was just cresting the horizon as Stu pulled the semi into the parking lot of a low-slung building on the outskirts of Escondido. A flickering neon sign proclaimed it to be a twenty-four-hour veterinary hospital. I blinked at it through bleary eyes, trying to make sense of why Stu would bring us to an animal clinic instead of a regular doctor. But I was too concussed and in too much pain to puzzle it out. I slumped against the door as Stu killed the engine, the sudden silence ringing in my ears.

Stu helped Tammy out of the sleeper cab first, slinging her arm over his broad shoulders as she hobbled on unsteady legs. Her blonde hair was matted with dried blood, her double-Ds barely contained by her torn halter top. She grimaced with each step, clutching her side where the bullet was lodged.

I watched through half-lidded eyes as Stu practically carried her to the clinic's battered metal door. He pounded on it with his fist, the sound reverberating like a gunshot in the early morning stillness. Afew moments later, the door creaked open to reveal a short, balding man in a lab coat, his eyes wide and wary behind thick glasses.

Stu muscled past him, half-dragging Tammy into the dimly lit interior. Low voices drifted out to me, terse and urgent. I let my eyes fall closed, the throbbing in my skull making it hard to focus.

Time slipped by in strange lurches and lulls, seconds stretching into eons before snapping back like a rubber band. I drifted on the knife's edge of consciousness, the pain in my head a constant roar.

The cab door wrenched open, and I startled, instinctively swinging a fist. Stu caught it easily, his callused palm engulfing my bloody knuckles.

“Easy,” he rumbled. “It's just me.”

I glared at him, but allowed him to haul me out of the truck. The world tilted and spun around me as soon as my feet hit the pavement. I stumbled, my knees giving out, but Stu caught me before I could face plant onto the asphalt.

He slung one of my arms over his broad shoulders, wrapping his other arm around my waist. I leaned into him, breathing in the heady scent of sweat, blood, and pure masculine aggression. My cock, which had barely flagged during the drive, surged back to full hardness.

Stu half-carried, half-dragged me across the parking lot.

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