Page 59 of Full Throttle

After I hung up, I quickly packed up all my stuff and headed to the bathroom to grab my toiletries. Once that was done, I grabbed my coat, slung the bag over my shoulders, and headed to the door. I glanced at the crutches I’d gotten from the hospital, debating taking them.

“For shits and giggles,” I muttered, grabbing them too. A minute later, I heard the crunching of gravel outside. With my hand on the doorknob, I looked over my shoulder at the small home I’d managed to create since coming here. My eyes drifted over to the designs on the coffee table, the scattered papers, pens, and a half empty coffee cup. Cain had come into this place and infected it.

I needed to rid myself of the infection.

Ten minutes later, I was in the passenger seat of Mina’s SUV, looking up at Dontell’s gorgeous home as she pulled into the driveway. The roads were mostly clear, a few ice patches here and there, but otherwise okay. The ride over here was filled with silence, and the further and further we moved away from the loft, the clearer my head became.

I was about to turn to Mina to thank her, but the sight of Dontell stepping out through the front door had me pausing. He was dressed the most casually I’d ever seen him, in black joggers and a white hoodie. The look on his face was grim, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Me being here isn’t going to cause you problems, is it?” I asked, looking at Mina.

She was staring at her man, her eyes soft before she blinked, looking at me. “No. That look isn’t about you—well, not completely.”

My door opened, and I whirled, a small yelp coming from me. Dontell held up his hands, his eyes going wide. “Jesus, Nikki. You’re jumpy.”

“S-sorry,” I muttered, giving him a small smile.

He returned my smile. “Let’s get you out of the cold. Cleo is dying to show you her dinosaur collection."

I loved that little girl. She didn’t collect dolls. No, she collected things that interested her, like dinosaurs and books. She was cool kid.

“I can’t wait,” I said, swinging my legs out.

“How’s the ankle?”

“So much better. I brought the crutches just in case, but I think I can make it to the front door,” I assured him as I caught another concerned look.

Once we were in the house, Dontell went back to the car to get my bags as Mina and I went into the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea? Wine? Hard liquor?” she offered over her shoulder as she headed to the sink.

I laughed. “Water will be fine, thank you.”

The front door closed, and Dontell came into the living room, my bag over his shoulder, the crutches underneath his arm. “I’ll set you up in the spare room, Nikki. That good?”

I began to shake my head. “You don’t have to trouble yourself. I can sleep on the couch.”

The man blinked once, then said, “My family doesn’t sleep on the couch. We clear on that?” The firmness in his voice sent a chill down my neck, and all I could do was nod.

When he disappeared down the hall, I turned back to Mina. “What the hell was that?”

Mina slid a bottle of water across the island to me as I pulled out a stool. Once my butt was in the seat, the dull ache that had been in my ankle faded away. I didn’t let it show that I was uncomfortable. I needed to deal with it and heal. The sooner I did that, the sooner I could be behind the wheel again.

“He’s just on edge,” Mina told me. Then, she raised her chin, calling for her daughter.

A second later, I heard the pounding of little feet racing down the hall, and I spun the stool just in time to see Cleo emerge at the mouth of the hall, dressed in a Belle costume with a basket of dinosaurs hanging from her hands. “Oh good! You’re here!” she squealed, running to me, the butterfly clips at the ends of her braids bouncing as she ran to us.

For the next hour, I sorted and played with a seven-year-old girl, pushing all thoughts of Cain and the hurt he’d caused me out of my head, at least for a little while. Mina watched us and chatted with me about random things, keeping the heavy topics away from Cleo’s innocent ears while Dontell went into one of his garages to work.

Late in the evening, as I was helping Dontell wash dishes after dinner, I leaned in, brushing his arm against mine. “Are we okay?” I asked, not bothering to hide the anxiety in my voice.

I looked up to study Dontell’s handsome profile, his eyes on the plate he was currently scrubbing. “Why wouldn’t we be?” he countered.

When I didn’t give him an answer, he glanced at me. He must’ve caught the look on my face, because he set the plate back in the sink and reached for a towel to dry his hands. Then, he turned to face me, bracing a hand on the counter to lean on before lifting his chin. “What’s going on?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “If I’m a burden, please tell me, because I can go get a hotel or—”

“Like fuck you are,” he grunted, cutting me off. My mouth closed as he reminded me of the harsh truth. “There’s a fucking mad man hunting us—Oasis racers—right now. Currently, that sorry son of a bitch thinks you’re dead.”

I flinched.

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