Page 35 of Stone

Why didn’t I fight harder? Did I even get a chance? Everything happened so fast.

Please, God, let this be a nightmare I’m about to wake up from, and find Sasha safely tucked up in her bed, with her blanket and favorite toy.

When I notice that Smoke’s black Ford truck is about to pull up, I’m filled with relief, but when I find Stone’s dark, stormy, accusing eyes looking at me from the open window, I know this is real, and possibly my worst nightmare.

I don’t get up. I stay exactly where I am on the floor, fear ripping through me as I wait for the hail of wrath I’m about to be hit with from Stone.

Stone

On the fifteen-minute drive here, that actually only took me ten, for every single one of those minutes my gut has been churning with the all-consuming fear that is running through my veins. My mind is overflowing with fear as to what could be happening to Sasha, and how I’m going to kill the fuckers behind this. Fuck, what if she’s… Bile hits the back of my throat and I swallow hard to keep it from spilling from my mouth. Damn it, I can’t let my thoughts go there, it would burn my soul.

I avert my mind to other things, like how I’m going to rip Oriana a new asshole for what she’s done, which does nothing to dampen my rage. She knew I was against her taking Sasha out, but with her pretty face, sinful body and crazy negotiation skills, against my better judgment, I’d pussied out and let her talk me around.

Stupidly, I’ve started to let her get under my skin. One hell of a mistake and one that I’m regretting big time. And Oriana won’t know what the fuck has hit her when I terminate her employment and kick her out on her ass.

Then I see her sitting trembling on the sidewalk, and instantly my anger evaporates. Instead, I’m consumed to the core with an animalistic need to protect.

I yank the stick into park, pull on the brake, and sling open the door, leaving it ajar in my rush to get to her.

When she had left the house, she had been dressed in fitted jeans, a crisp white T-shirt and a baby blue zip-up hoody. Minimal make-up, slight sheen to her lips and her hair had been tied back in a neat, high ponytail that had swished from side to side as she walked. Casual, put together and cute as shit.

“Oriana,” I say softly as I approach her, “Hey, you okay, sweetheart?” It’s a stupid thing to say because, clearly, she’s not. Her face is pink and blotchy, cheeks streaked black from mascara-ladened tears that stream from her swollen, red-rimmed eyes. The band holding her ponytail in place has lost tenure, and some strands of hair have fallen around her face.

“It’s all my fault,” she sobs, swiping the sleeve of her hoodie under her snotty nose. “They took Sasha, and I wasn’t able to stop them.” She lets out a howling cry that makes my heart ache. I crouch down in front of her, wrap my arms around her waist, and bring us both up onto our feet.

“Shhh, it’s going to be alright,” I assure her, partly to give her comfort and hope, but also to try to convince myself, too. “Let’s get you into the car and get you home.” I continue to hold her close while I walk her to the truck. “Did you lose consciousness at any time?” I’m no medic, but I do know that if she did that, she could have a concussion.

“Maybe,” she puts her hand up to the side of her head. “For a few minutes.” When she brings her hand away, her fingers are tainted with her blood.

“Shit, you’re bleeding.” I pull open the passenger door. Any thought of having her sit in the back so she can lie down quickly lost because I need to have eyes on her. I slide my hands to her waist and lift her onto the seat sideways so she’s facing me. I shuck off my cut and throw it over the top of the door while I rip my T-shirt up and off. I ball it up and hold it against the side of her head to stem the bleeding.

At least it’s a black tee and won’t show the crimson as much. Head gashes are notorious for heavy blood loss due to the multiple veins that run under your scalp, and the last thing I need is for her to freak out at the sight of it. There’s already a good amount around the neck of her T-shirt and flecks on her hoodie.

“I’m nauseous,” she groans out, her hand coming up to her head and covering mine.

“That’s because you’ve had a knock on the head. Can you hold that in place?” She gives me a gentle nod, then winces, her throat moving rapidly as she swallows down the risk of puking. “Swivel round and I’ll get you buckled in, so we can get you home.”

Once I’m sure she’s settled and safely in, I grab a bottle of pain relief from the glove box and shake two out. “Open up.” I tap her bottom lip with my finger until her lips part, giving me a closer view of the silver ball there before I pop the pills onto her tongue. Placing the open water bottle to her mouth, I tip it up just enough for her to take what she needs to swallow them down. All done, I close the door and move around to the driver's side. My eyes move over her, shoulders slumped, posture deflated. Devastated, crushed. Yet still so fucking gorgeous despite being a hot mess. It’s this very moment I realize, despite my hot-headedness previously, that, although in a totally different way to Sasha, this woman is equally valuable to me. I can only hope and pray that I manage to keep hold of both of them.

ChapterTwenty-Three

Oriana

Throughout the drive back, it’s a battle to stay awake. All I want to do is sleep, but it’s difficult when Stone barks at me to wake up every time I close my eyes. I know he’s doing it for my own good, keeping me alert until we get back to the house.

Other than prompting me to stay awake, and his constant glances in my direction, he’s been on call after call on his cell phone. With each one, I hope that it’s news about Sasha. I try to work out who he’s talking to, decipher what’s being said, but my mind is fuzzy as images drift between Sasha’s sweet face, and the distorted one of the men who had grabbed me out of the car. Now I seem to be all teared out, my body numb despite the cuts and bruises. I fight sleep best I can by staring out of the window, although oblivious to my surroundings, my mind is too saturated with the painful thoughts of how monumentally bad I’ve failed Stone and Sasha.

When an arm comes across me, I jump out of my skin and out of my haze, finding Stone leaning over to unbuckle me. I sense someone standing close behind him, and I flinch away from Stone’s hand as he tries to help me from the car.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s only Cub.” He steps back so I can see him. He gives me a forced smile and a lacklustre wave, but his eyes show concern. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

“Sasha?” I enquire once more, my eyes, my heart pleading for some positive news, but all I get is a negative shake of the head. Fear grips my heart and soul a little tighter.

My legs wobble when I step out of the car. My head swims as if drunk. Stone’s arm immediately curls around my waist to support me, but when my knees buckle, having zero control of my body, he bends, hooks his other arm behind my knees and lifts me fully off the ground.

Cub walks in front of us, seeing to the door and holding it wide as Stone carries me in. Stupidly, I giggle. The thought of being carried over the threshold like some newly married bride slips into my haggled brain. But instead of wearing a pretty dress, hair and make-up, looking like a million dollars, I’m dirty, bruised and looking like a total wreck. Not that I’ve seen myself in the mirror or anything, but I feel like I’ve been run over by a ten-ton truck.

“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” Stone questions, his face close to mine. His eyes show fear and anger, each in battle with the other for dominance. Still, they’re beautiful, dark and stormy, liquid heat.

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