Page 146 of Illicit

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NORMAL

Rocco

My breath is shallow and heavy.

I have to work for it. I was a D1 athlete and still work out. I never find it hard to breathe.

Brax pries the gun from my hand. It takes me a second, but I allow it even though I can’t focus on anything.

“I need EMS, stat,” King orders. He rattles off our location right before he gives the rundown of what just happened.

“Rocco!”

I blink.

Fuck, that stings.

“Is that his blood?”

I look up where I’m ass to the pavement just in time to see Teagan drop to her knees by my side.

Her expression turns to horror when she sees my forearm.

“You’ve been shot,” she whispers, right before she turns to her father and screams, “He’s been shot! Do something!”

I bring up my good arm and place my hand on the side of her face to make her look at me. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” she cries. “He shot you. You’re bleeding.”

I hold my arm up and look at the bite that’s been taken out of my flesh. “I’ll be fine. I need some stitches. Baby, get up. I can’t sit here.”

Cops come out of the woodwork where they were close for backup, and more units descend on the scene where my father is crumpled, dead on the ground, and blood seeping from beneath his body. And I thought I didn’t want anything to do with him when he was alive. Turns out, I feel the same way about him dead.

I don’t want to be anywhere near him, and I sure as hell don’t want Teagan near him. If I could talk everyone into letting me take her away right now, I would.

She scrambles to her feet, and I follow. I walk her away from the scene, even though she’s only focused on me. It doesn’t bother her in the slightest that my father is dead, and I’m the one who made it happen.

She plasters herself to me and holds on tight. I wrap her up in my good arm.

Good arm.

How many times have I referred to it as that?

“Teag, I need to get something on his arm to stop the bleeding,” Tim says as he tries to pry his daughter from me.

Neither of us are having it.

I bury my face in her hair and don’t let go.

“Okay, then,” Tim mutters. I’m pretty sure it’s a dirty golf towel, but he wraps my arm and holds it firm while I hold his daughter and focus only on her.

“Baby, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

She shakes her head against my chest. “I’m okay. He drugged me with something, but that’s it. I’m better now. I can’t believe you were shot.”

I shake my head. “Same arm. Third time’s a charm, right? That’s got to be it.”

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