Page 6 of Red Queen (Red Thorns Crew 3)

Max’s voice filled my ear. “Thanks. We need to get her out of these wet clothes and get her warm.”

“Call your doctor. Have him meet you at the house. Seriously. That cough sounds nasty.”

I felt something warm against my skin. “Come here. Let’s try to get you warmed up.”

I groaned. “Huh?”

“You’re shivering. Badly. We need to get you warm.”

I felt my muscles tense. “I--I am?”

Rupert sighed. “Not good. She’s disoriented.”

Max growled. “Just give her a second, damn it.”

The warm blanket wrapping around me felt like knives against my skin. I fought Max’s movements, but I wasn’t strong enough to bat them off. Tears rushed my eyes once more, trickling aimlessly down my cheeks. And every time I drew in a shuddered breath, I started coughing again.

Before throwing up more water onto the truck’s floorboard.

“She needs a damn doctor.”

“And I’ll get her one.”

“She needs one now, Max.”

“Then fucking pull over and call 911! But if you want to make it out of this without handcuffs, keep driving until we get back to the damn house!”

I whimpered as I curled tighter into him. It felt as if my body was rebelling against his efforts. Why did the blanket hurt? Why did my feet feel as if they were on fire? Why couldn't I close my hands tight enough to hang on?

Why am I so helpless?

I was worried that I needed a hospital. But we were in no position to go to the hospital. And I finally understood the predicament Max had been in the day he was jumped. The hospital wasn’t an option. I mean, someone had just shot Max’s father, for crying out loud!

“Who--who shot—?”

I managed to stammer the words out between my clattering teeth.

“I did,” Rupert said.

I looked up into Max’s face. “You--dove in?”

He grinned down at me. “Did you really expect me to do anything else?”

Yeah. No hospital for us. Rupert had just killed Max’s father, and the police sure as hell didn’t need to be catching up with us. Not after tonight. Because I honestly wasn’t sure anyone would believe what had happened tonight. I placed my cheek against his shoulder and felt him wrap the rest of the blanket around my legs. It felt like my head was in a vise grip that someone kept tightening.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to focus on Max.

“Thank you for coming for me,” I whispered.

He cupped my cheek. “Of course I came for you. I always will.”

I felt his body shaking and heard the tears in his eyes. I felt his hand trembling against my cheek as his thumb stroked me softly, smoothing away my own tears while his dripped steadily onto my forehead. I looked to the side, watching as Max’s thumb came into my view every once in a while.

And if his thumb was that bloodied, I was worried about the rest of him.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

I gazed back up into his face as my vision finally focused. When I saw the bruises and the swelling and the cuts, open and bleeding, I gasped. Which spurred on another coughing session. Which caused me to lunge off to the side and vomit, once again, onto the floorboard of the truck.

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