Page 108 of Three Dates (Paths to Love 2)

“Thank God. I’m so sorry—”

“Not now,” I cut him off. “Stone’s been shot. My brother temporarily patched him up, but we need a doctor. We’re in the middle of nowhere—”

“Connecticut,” Stone interrupted.

“Connecticut. Where should we go?”

“Head for the apartment for now. I’ll call you back in a few minutes with further instructions,” Daniel barked.

I hung up without another word and entered our home address into the truck’s navigation system.

“Do you have a charger?” I asked Stone, whose head lolled to the side.

“In there.” He pointed to the center console, and I opened it, pulling out a white wire that was already plugged into a USB port.

Once I had my phone connected, the music function of my cell played “Home” by Rudimental. The volume was low, and I left it on, the silence more than I could stand at the moment.

“How badly do you hurt?”

“Are you okay?” The way he avoided my question intensified my worry.

I was only able to see his outline by the glow from the touchscreen display in the dash. His head rested on the back of the seat, but his face was turned toward me.

“I won’t be until I get you to a doctor, and you’re healed.” I gripped the steering wheel and focused on the dark road, speeding along faster than I’d normally drive.

He reached for me, and I felt him wince. “Muriella, it’s just a scratch.”

“It isnotjust a scratch,” I said, my voice rising before I took a deep calming breath. “Please just relax.”

My phone rang, mercifully interrupting a conversation that was headed in a bad direction. “Daniel.”

There was a lot of noise in the background, nothing I recognized.

“I want you to go to this address.” He rattled it off, and I punched it into the GPS. “It shouldn’t take you long to get there. Maybe half an hour. You can trust the people there to help you.”

“Thank you.”

“The security team will follow you.” He hesitated. “How is he?”

“He says he’s okay. In fact, he was telling me it’s just a scratch.” I looked over at Stone and shook my head.

“If the physician wants you to stay overnight, do it. You’ll be fine. Vivian and I will come get you tomorrow.”

“What? You arenotcoming home. I don’t want you to.” I said, irritated.

“Too bad. I’m hanging up so you can concentrate on the road, but I expect to hear from you soon,” he commanded.

“I want to talk to her,” Vivian demanded in the background. “Hey.” Her voice broke on the one syllable, and I could hardly stand her fear.

“Master says we need to hang up so I can drive,” I said dryly, and she snorted.

“You’re driving?” Vivian asked between sniffles. It wasn’t often I got behind the wheel, although Daniel had taught me almost as soon as I arrived in New York. “I’ll tell you all about it later, but I can’t talk to you if you’re going to cry,” I said, sounding far tougher than I felt. Actually, I sounded a lot like her.

“Fine. I’ll try to stop by the time I see you. I promise nothing.”

“I told Daniel I don’t want you to come home.”

“Too fucking bad. We’ll bring chocolates. You’ll change your mind right away.”

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