Page 2 of All of Me

“He moved out of the house ten days after you went on assignment.”

I gaped. “Three months?”

“Nearly four.”

“Where?” I clipped out and sucked back half the bottle in one go.

“He’s in a studio apartment on Beach Court.” I drew a blank. “It’s just off English Avenue.”

“Shit,” I breathed out, knowing the area. Then I focused on Diesel. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

Diesel folded his arms. “He’s over eighteen. Pink begged him to stay. He was offered a bedroom here. I even told him I needed someone to look after the place as Kane and Danny were moving out, and that it came with a salary. He wouldn’t entertain the idea. He won’t accept money of any sort, apart from his medical bills, and he told me if I interfered he would disappear.”

I could practically feel the color draining from my face. “Then what’s he doing for cash?”

“He told us he had a job as a stockroom assistant at Dave’s Deals. One of those places you can buy most things. Cops have warned them a couple of times about knock-offs, but it’s too small-time in that area for them to really pay any attention.”

Yeah, because the cops there already had their hands full trying to stop gangs from killing each other either with guns or crack.

“And?” I pressed, because I knew there was more.

“We went a few times to check the place out and the owner told Shae if, and I quote,six-foot hulks didn’t stop stalking his storehe would fire Shae.”

I’d have smiled if it had been remotely funny.

“Shae was furious and told us the next time he wouldn’t even let me pay his medical bills so we sent a delivery driver in that Shae doesn’t know to see what’s going on, and since Shae started, the lazy fucker that owns the place has fired one guy and not replaced another. Which basically means Shae’s doing the work of three staff.” Diesel leaned forward. “He’s humping shit that’s too heavy for him with his heart issues. Hell, he shouldn’t even be working at all.”

“Then why the fuck did you let him?” I snapped out.

Diesel’s eyes glittered, but he didn’t answer me for a long few seconds. “Because as I said, he’s eighteen, but more importantly,he’s as stubborn an ass as you are.” Diesel smacked his hand down on the table. “I told you we were having problems. I’ve told you twice. The docs are really worried that Shae hasn’t healed as quickly as other enhanced, and there’s a high chance the damage is permanent. You need to get your head out of your ass and go sort this shit out.”

I gaped at Diesel. Opened my mouth to yell back and say it wasn’t my problem, but the fact was I might as well have pushed Shae out of Diesel’s home, and I’d fobbed Diesel off when he’d told me to come home. Convinced myself if I left he’d be okay, and practically begged Diesel to give me a long contract so I could put some distance between us. I knew he’d been upset…

Was he crying? The doc had just left, and I let myself into the small seating area next to the bedroom Shae was using. “Hey, I hope that was good news—"

But Shae made a noise in the back of his throat like he was trying to swallow a sob. Head down, shoulders hunched, back to me, I didn’t think twice about walking around to face him, but just as I drew level, he jumped up and gave me his back again.

“Shae?” I reached out and touched his shoulder, which I never did, and that seemed to break the dam. He whirled around and reached for me, and I wrapped my arms around him and held him while he shook.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that the news Shae had gotten after three weeks in the hospital and another two months of rehabilitation at Diesel’s wasn’t good. “It’s permanent,” he whispered into my shirt. I closed my eyes in despair. The fuckers that had held him at the jail had forced him to run. And Shae didn’t just run like some Olympic athlete, he was so fast he blurred, and those bastards had tied him to aspecially adapted treadmill and forced him to run so fast and for so long that his heart had given out.

I knew there was scarring. I knew they were even thinking about trying out laser surgery to reduce it, but the scarring was so extensive the surgeons were very reluctant. They wanted Shae to recover first. To gain weight. They’d even done cautious tests on his ability, but the first time Shae had used it, the machines attached to him had gone crazy and the doc had put an immediate stop to it.

It turned out they didn’t actually use the word permanent, but the doc had said he didn’t want Shae to do anything strenuous for at least six months, preferably a year, and then they’d review it. But to Shae’s ears, that meant permanent.

I realized he’d gone still in my arms, and a little discomfort trickled in. We were plastered together, and I knew my body would react if I didn’t move. I tried to take a step back. “Another few months is no time.”

He kept a tight grasp on my shirt but looked up. I maybe had a couple of inches on him, if that. “You’re only eighteen. We know there is a lot of amazing shit enhanced can do. Don’t write yourself off.”

Shae was silent for a couple of heartbeats. “I wish I wasn’t eighteen.”

“Why?” I scoffed. “I wish I was twenty years younger.”

He pinned my gaze and for some reason everything got really serious. “Because if I wasn’t a kid, you’d be more likely to enjoy this.” His lips on mine sent every brain cell I had on vacation. Lust—hot and heavy—hit me like a battering ram, but more than anything, the surge of protectiveness that slammed into me made me stop. Shove him away. Wipe my mouth on my hand like his taste was disgusting when it had been the exact opposite.

“Stop,” I almost snarled the word.

And Shae did. He stared at me for what seemed like forever until, like a coward, I ran. I was in my car and on the way to the airport the same night.

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