Page 15 of Hunted, Season Three

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Kid.” Another pop to the area is delivered.“You wake the fuck up and stay the fuck up.”

He’s right.

I need to wake up.

Stayup.

Get up.

Get moving.

Get to our girl.

“Bunny,” slips free in a crackled croak at the same time I lean into his assistance.“Where?”

“Idontknow,” he defeatedly murmurs as we successfully shift me into a sitting position.“But we’re gonna fuckin’ find her, Kid.”His eyes firmly lock onto mine.“We’re gonna save her.”

“Swear?”

“Swear.”One hand runs along my spine for support.“He’s not taking her away from us.”Nolan’s glare bores deeper into mine in tandem with his palm stiffening.“He’s not fuckin’ leaving our town alive.”

There’s no hesitation to nod in agreement.

This shit ends tonight.

By any means necessary.

“First shit first.”He tips his chin in my direction.“Diagnostic report?”

Appreciation over his choice of wording pulls the corners of my lips completely upward in spite of the agony.“Operable.”

“Good.”My boyfriend rises to his feet and immediately extends his hand out for me to take.“I wanna keep it that way.”Transitioning from sitting to standing is accompanied by uncomfortable grumbles and huffs and groans, all of which prompt him to mirthfully point out, “You sound like a ‘95 Buick.”

“You would too if you got fuckin’ tased on the NOS setting.”

“That fuckface tased you?!”

“I take it he didn’t tase you?”Giving the contact site a small touch results in a giant hiss.“Fuck!” I bunch up the edge of my shirt to reveal the two marks from where the device latched into me.“Did that shit burn me?!”

Nolan hunches forward to better examine the injury.“Pretty bad.”He takes over holding my clothing during his continued assessment.“We need to get this cleaned.ASAP.”

“We need to find Bunny.”

“We don’t need this shit to get infected.”

“We need to find our girl!”

“And we need you alive to fucking do that!”

Another huff of irritation is followed by me snatching my shirt out of his grasp.“Fine.”

“Come on,Rambo.” My boyfriend clamps his hand lovingly around the back of my scraped-up neck.“We’ll make it quick.I’ve got a first-aid kit in the truck.”

Against my own volition, an amused grunt escapes.

Shit.

Now isnotthe time for laughing.

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