Page 77 of Lamb

At first, I had thought Lamb’s stony silence had been aimed at me. I had noticed how he had kept his distance, lingering in the shadows hanging from the walls. Felt myself grow cold as his thoughtless touches and soft grazing fingers grew absent. Not even his eyes would reach mine. I had not seen the warmth of his brown eyes, nor the calculating computer ticking behind them since the moment I had roused from the effects of the sedative Mint had given me.

It was not until I had spotted the extra Angels amassing in the house that I realised that was not the case. With Mint’s new guard dog aura, his eyes tracking every movement Lamb made, watching him like a bomb ready to explode, I managed to piece together the truth.

The Black Angels had stepped in.

I strongly suspected that the Black Angels were fully aware of what Lamb had been up to. I had at least thought they knew I was in town, or that Lamb was being sketchy, but I had either underestimated their observational skills or Lamb’s ability to mask in front of his brothers.

The last thing I wanted was to be back on their radar; I was the equivalent of a walking time bomb, something we were all aware of. It made tensions high, relationships strained, and an all-around bad atmosphere. I was not oblivious to the damage I had already caused them, and the fact that the potential for more was vastly worse than anything that had happened so far made my relationship with the club inevitably sour.

“You’re just going to ignore me. Really?”

Mint sat wordlessly at my side, the bed threatening to suck me into his space as he weighed down the soft mattress in his direction. He was changing the bandage on my neck, forcing me to keep my head tilted up and away as he pulled off the adhesive tape. The wound had not been deep enough to cause too much damage, but the ten-fingered bruise over my throat was tender, and the ghost of his hand still lingered, physically and psychologically.

Mint carefully poked and prodded the skin, and I did my best not to react. In the past few days, the veteran’s sharp green eyes had grown keen to my tells. He could see through me well, and any hint of discomfort would make the wrinkles between his brows harden. I was wondering what it would mean for this country to have a second Grand Canyon … on someone’s face, no less.

“You seduced my brother with your wicked tricks and got him in trouble, and you’ve got nothing to say?”

I let out a long-suffering sigh, having heard enough of the mosquito buzzing in my ear. I rolled my eyes towards the man standing at the foot of the bed, heavily tattooed arms crossed tightly over his chest, a tight snarl warping his objectively handsome face. Not my cup of tea, but certainly many others.

“Kidnapped,” I corrected him. “I waskidnapped.”

Jax scoffed. “Don’t look verykidnappedto me.”

“Despite the fact you are one of myarmedguards yourself?” I retorted, using my own finger to point down towards the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

He moved his hand over the handle as if my arms might leap from my torso like a cartoon and steal the thing. At the least, after my death, my body would be whisked away toArea 51, never to be seen again.

Jax returned my eye roll. “You had no trouble escaping up before. I highly doubt Lamb catching you was a lucky shot.”

His tattoos rippled over his taut muscles, having grown larger and more disciplined since I had seen him last. His dark, curly hair, however, had gotten shorter; cropped closer to his head, showing off more of that deeply tanned neckline, also laced with various inks swirling and shifting over his tightened throat.

If I had to compile a list of people who hated me the most, Jax’s name would not even make it into the top ten. But in a competition of being openly hostile, Jax would place bronze at least.

It was fair enough. I knew his reasons for hating me, and they were valid. That was why I could not bring myself to hate him like I did my other enemies.

“Glad to know you have no faith in your brother’s skills. I will let him know.”

“Don’t twist my words, witch,” Jax growled, having had enough and stalking out of the room. At least that was one less bodyguard to breathe down my neck. Speaking of … I glanced over to Mint who was finishing my dressing.

“You know, you could always let me go,” I threw.

“Tried that one already,” Mint interjected, not breaking his focus from his work. “Look where we are. I think you’re going to be stuck with us. For now, at least.” He applied the last of thetape and started packing away his array of medical tools back into his beastly first-aid box.

“Fabulous. I think we are going to need a bigger bed.” I glanced down at the queen-sized bed, running my hand over the silk sheets. “I doubt we will all fit in this one. Unless you want to go top-to-toe?”

Mint ignored me.

“Now would be a great time for a stiff drink,” I mumbled the comment under my breath, but it was not low enough. It earnt me a sharp glower, Mint’s ice-green eyes sending a shiver down my spine.

I was not completely out of the worst of it. The dizziness, headaches, and insomnia still had a stronghold. It was like someone had stuffed my mouth full of cotton wool, but that was not the worst part. I had a constant thirst, but neither water nor anything remotely virgin would satisfy it.

I looked down at the red sheets, my fingers pulling and tugging at the silky material, wanting to pick it apart seam by seam. Words toyed on my tongue, and questions bubbled in my throat, but only silence continued.

Mint closed the latches on his first-aid box, but instead of getting up and moving, he stayed where he was, waiting.

“I heard I am being brought to the club,” I managed, constructing my words carefully. My eyes remained pinned to the red fabric, anchored to my lap. “I do not think that is a good idea.”

“I bought you a bit of time so you can get over the worst of it,” Mint explained, his voice calm. “But it’s no longer safe to leave you here.”

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