Page 9 of Steel

“Open them gorgeous blue eyes, Hummingbird,” I demand as I stick my fingers against the side of her neck. Her pulse beats faintly under them.

Holy fuck.

My shoulders drop, releasing the tension that’s been in them since I took her call.

I close my eyes, tilting my head back while I do nothing for a few seconds but feel the proof that she’s alive.

For now.

I snap my eyes open and shut shit down. Me feeling like this will be a sure-fire way to get us both dead. Emotions cloud judgment, and if I want us to be alive at the end of this fucking mess she’s found herself in, then my shit has to be locked down tight.

Should be fucking easy since I’m not feeling much anyway. Just relief that her heart’s still beating and fucked-up lust because she’s in my vicinity. Shit happens every damn time. We’re an impetuous cyclone of desire that electrifies the air around us as it builds into a salacious craving that will eventually drown us.

It’s been three years since I’ve seen her, but it’s only been days since I’ve thought about her. As much as I fucking hate it, she’s never far from my mind. It’s one of the reasons I try so goddamn hard to fuck her out of my system with any club whore, fender fluff, or townie that slides their hands into my pants. Hell, it’s the only reason I continued to fuck Heather even though she was giving her pussy up to other people. I didn’t have it in me to giveher anything else, so the least I could do was give my daughter’s mom my loyalty.

Except in my mind.

Unfortunately, that’s the one place where I’ve never been loyal to Heather.

Digging through the med kit, I snap on a pair of latex gloves and start unwinding the tourniquet.

Bailee did a hell of a job.

Must have been hard to do while running with people chasing her.

Bailee grew up around here, though. She has a lot more experience navigating this land than outsiders. Being a freelance photographer, she’s always traipsing all over, and a place like this—basically a damn ghost town—is fucking gold to her.

Bet her shots are fucking amazing.

Her groan has my head snapping up, my eyes colliding with hers.

Those fucking hypnotic blue eyes suck my goddamn soul out.

“Jericho,” she murmurs, using my given name. “You came.”

“You think I wouldn’t, Hummingbird?”

When I pull the material away from her thigh, a sharp hiss escapes me when the measly light from her phone spotlights the bullet wound.

Getting shot, no matter where it’s at, hurts like a motherfucker, so the fact that she was able to keep her head enough to not only do a makeshift tourniquet but also get to safety lights up my chest.

I knew she was strong. Anyone who’s dealt with the shit she has would have to be, but this proves to me how much of a fighter, a damn survivor, my woman is.

My woman? What the fuck?

The thought has my hands stilling.

Nope. No fucking way. She’s not my anything. Not anymore. She put a stop to whatever the hell we had going three years ago.

I treated her like a filthy fucking side piece when she deserved a hell of a lot more than what I was ever able to give her. At least not as long as shit wasn’t completely over with Heather.

Like it is now.

I shake my head, dispelling the thoughts as I grab the waist of her jeans. “Think you can help get these off? Need a clear look at the wound.”

Her body shakes as she lifts her hips enough for me to slide them off and toss them to the side, then I help ease her down gently.

“Thank you for coming.”

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