Page 36 of Stone

“You,” I giggle. “Carrying me. It’s like what you do when you’ve got married.”

“Jesus,” Cub sniggers. “She must have hit her head hard, she’s delirious.”

“Are you going to take me upstairs, throw me onto your bed where we can have our first matrimonial night of passion?”

“It must be the pain meds,” Stone explains to Cub as he carries me over to the sofa. “Can you grab the first aid kit and a few of the freshly laundered towels from the hall cupboard?”

Cub salutes his VP and goes in search of the items.

“My head’s a bit woozy,” I slur. When he sits me down on the couch, I try to lie down.

“No, no, no.” His hands take a firm hold of my shoulders, and he sits me back up. “You need to stay awake, at least until the Doc gets here.” Stretching out his arms, he grabs the loose cushions from where they’re scattered across the couch.

“You’ve called a doctor?” He starts stuffing the cushions around me like he’s building support walls at my sides to stop me from going horizontal. “I don’t need a doctor, do I? I’m sure if I could just rest here…” I lean to the side, the plump cushion tempting me to lay my head on it.

“Oriana.” Stone straightens me back up. “Look at me,” he demands. His hand cups my chin and tilts it up, so I have no option. I open my eyes and find him with a large surgical dressing in his hand. Cub stands behind him, holding a large open box. I hadn’t even realized he’d returned. “This might sting,” he warns before applying the pad to my head.

“Ouch!” I scream out, which has Stone flinching, but he carries on taking care of my wound. It didn’t hurt much, but I regret shouting so loud, as it did make my head throb.

Damn, the painkillers he’s given me are awesome when it comes to relieving the pain, but hell, they make you super drowsy, and all I want is sleep. He secures the pad by wrapping a cotton bandage around my head, giving it an Egyptian mummy vibe. I suppose it’s better than a humongous Band-Aid that would stick to my hair like gum.

“Let me check your hands.” Gently he circles my wrists and turns them palm up. The fleshy skin above my wrist, which must have hit the road surface hard, is bloody, scored and peppered with grit. “This is gonna hurt, too.” He cradles my left hand in his when he lays a warm, damp cloth against the grazed area. This time, when I hiss out, it’s genuine. He casts me an apologetic look.

“Have you any news about Sasha yet?” I whimper, the pain helping to clear my brain, reminding me of the horrors of the day. As if by magic, Stone’s phone rings out. He snatches it from the coffee table where he left it while attending to me and brings it to his ear.

“Smoke,” he asks hesitantly. “Thank the fucking Lord for that. Is she okay?” His eyes fall to mine, and he gives me a firm tip of the head. They’ve found Sasha. The cry I let out with relief is high-pitched and animalistic. With no thought of what I’m doing, I lean forward into Stone, my damaged hands be damned, as I grip hold his leather cut and flatten my face against his naked chest and sob. Heat radiates from his body, his protective arm wrapped around me, but the real fire that starts to rage from his touch is deep inside me, and I’m desperate for more. Suddenly hit with guilt and embarrassment for breaking down again, I push back away from him. When I meet his gaze, the color of his eyes is almost gone and replaced by the darkness of his pupils.

Is he mad, relieved, or could it be that he’s as aroused as I am from our body contact, albeit nothing more than a hug?

Stone

I’ve never been a religious man, hell, if I was, I’d spend the majority of my life begging for forgiveness in the confessional box. But I won’t deny that I’d chanted a prayer or two in my head over the last few hours. I sure as hell meant what I said when I got the news from Smoke that he had Sasha, she was fine and that he was bringing her home.

“I’m telling you; Sasha is fine.” Smoke reassures me. “In fact, she’s still in her car seat, not a mark on her. I think she’s slept through it all. That playgroup must have worn her out.”

“That’s good. Do you have what we need?” I ask, wanting to know my brothers have the fuckers that snatched her, yet not wanting to give too much away as to how we handle these situations in front of Oriana. With the phone wedged between my ear and shoulder, I continue to tend her wounds, cleaning and covering them with soft cotton gauze.

“Yeah, Edge, Mayhem and Crave have taken them to the usual place so they can be dealt with later. I thought it would be best if I stayed with Sasha, in case she woke up, seeing as she hasn’t really got used to the other brothers yet.”

“Thank you, Smoke, that means a lot that. She trusts you.”

“Do you?” he demands over the phone.

“With my life.” His comment surprises me. I trust my brothers, every one of them, but when it comes to Smoke, it’s much more than that.

“Then you leave their punishment to me. It’s not up for negotiation. Sasha, Oriana, they’re your priority for the time being, and you need to concentrate on them without your need for retribution causing a distraction. Be assured, I will deal with this, Stone.”

“Okay, but once you’ve finished making them suffer, I want all the gory details.”

“Why am I not surprised about that?” he sniggers. His voice takes a more serious tone when he adds. “Look, we should be back in about 10, so I’m going to go, but before I do, there’s one thing you should know.”

“What’s that?” I hold my breath, wondering what it is that’s so important it can’t wait until his return.

“The Irish. They weren’t behind this.” I hear him intake a deep breath. “Which means we’re still well and truly on their shit list, and it’s only a matter of time until they hit back.”

ChapterTwenty-Four

Stone

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