Page 99 of Corrupt Me

A ribbon of fear lanced in my chest, and I prepped to fight, but the guy hiding with me didn’t flinch. He didn’t move at all. And then I felt something warm and thick on my fingers. I knew before I glanced down what it was.

Blood.

Stifling a scream, I rushed out, scooting backward from under the truck using my feet.

“Ever?” Tristan loomed above me, glaring down at me with serious brows.

Needing to see he was unharmed, I quickly scanned him. I wouldn’t let myself feel relief. Not yet. I learned from the last time that shit could still hit the fan, and I had no time to relax, but seeing him did conflicting things inside me. “Tristan.”I sighed before he hauled me to my feet, sweeping me into his arms.

His arms were strong and steady. He wouldn’t let me fall. He wouldn’t let anyone else hurt me. And he most definitely wouldn’t let me go. “You’re okay. You’re not hurt?”

My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, clinging to him as if I couldn’t believe he was real. For seconds—hell, maybe it was minutes—all I could do was stay in Tristan’s arms as mayhem and panic swirled around me. His arm remained tight on me as the dust began to settle, and with it, the world returned. The ringing in my ears receded, but little could be done about my heart pounding in my ears until we were far from danger. People still ran around chaotically despite the bullets having ceased firing.

Someone charged at Tristan with a deep, animalistic cry expelling from his open mouth. Tristan twisted, protecting me with his body, as he raised his gun, striking it on the side of the guy’s head. The attacker’s mouth remained dropped, but the growl halted. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he face-planted to the ground.

Tristan pulled back, his fingers coming to frame my face, one of them still holding the gun, the cold press of metal grazing my skin. His touch was gentle but steady as he captured my gaze and held it.

“Get in the car, Shortcake,” he ordered. “Do you hear me? I want you to run to the car. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Get in and lock the doors.” It wasn’t just his voice that pleaded. His eyes. His hands. His entire body begged me to listen.

“What about?—”

“Now!” he thundered.

Urgency snapping inside me, I scrambled out the door, dashing into the crisp night. I didn’t stop to take the long breaths my lungs were greedy to consume but ran straight toward theheadlights beaming through the dark. The Mustang’s engine idled where the car sat only steps from the door I’d burst out from.

Using my hands to steady myself on the car’s body, I fumbled the passenger door open with trembling, clumsy hands as Tristan emerged from the building, dragging a stumbling Preston…more like carrying him. Preston wasn’t doing much, his legs barely lifting, head hung to his chest.

Leaving my door open, I darted around the car to help Tristan. He scowled at me but didn’t complain when I opened the door for him and pushed up the seat to the back. It took effort, but Tristan got his brother situated in the back seat. Groaning, still partially out of it, Preston lay across the two seats.

Before I could step away, Tristan took my chin, angling my face side to side as he inspected me.

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “We need to get Preston medical help.”

The pad of Tristan’s thumb ran over my chin. “He’s lucky he already had the shit kicked out of him.”

“Tristan,” I scolded at the implication he wanted to do more than smack his brother for his part in what happened tonight.

“He involved you. That’s unforgivable.” His hand dropped from my face, and he stepped back, shaking his head. “I never should have let you come. I should have left you at the hotel.”

I closed the distance he put between us, hating the guilt in his eyes. “You don’t think Angelo’s men could have found me there? Alone? It would have been worse then.”

His hands moved to my waist as his forehead pressed gently to mine. He took a needed deep breath. “We should go.”

As much as I wanted to stay in Tristan’s embrace, this wasn’t the appropriate time. We needed to get away from here, and Preston needed a hospital. Neither Tristan nor I could relax until a doctor assured us he would recover.

Tucking my hair behind my ears, I nodded and stepped out of his arms. We wasted no time jumping into the car. With an unsteady hand, I tried to click my seat belt into place as Tristan’s foot slammed onto the gas. The Mustang’s tires squealed seconds before the car lurched forward, speeding toward the opened gate. I finally managed to click my seat belt into place as we crossed onto the road, the warehouse growing distant behind us.

Despite being out of danger, my heart continued thumping wildly in my chest. I couldn’t seem to settle. I was half afraid Angelo would give chase. He wouldn’t forgive Tristan for double-crossing him. There would come a time when he would see retaliation, but I couldn’t think of that. Not now. Not tonight.

My fingers twisted in my lap, knees bouncing, and I kept glancing over my shoulder to check on Preston. The one thing I didn’t want to do was relive those memories in the warehouse. Too fresh. Too raw. Too soon.

Tristan reached across the seat, taking my hand and weaving our fingers together. “You’re okay. Prestonwillbe okay,” he assured with such conviction he left no room for another alternative. His confidence was what I needed.

I squeezed his hand.

The car’sheadlights cut a path through the dark, and the only sound was the hum of the engine and the irregular breaths we were still catching. Adrenaline thrummed through my veins, mixing with something even more intense.

Tristan gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to make sure we weren’t followed. I sat beside him, curled slightly in thepassenger seat, my hand resting on his arm. My fingers trembled, and I knew he could feel it through his sleeve.

---