Page 138 of Inside the Wicked

Aside from the disorientation and shell shock, I feel fine from the crash. Apparently, it wasn’t supposed to happen. Xoid tried to stop the car without a crash, but they were ambushed by Forthson’s men after the first shot and couldn’t carry it out efficiently. Rhett lost two of his men, and I’m burdened with the loss too. Rix and Dean got Jeremy out of the vest and strapped it to one of the patrons.

Though our plan went completely to shit the moment we arrived, we won. They have Jacob somewhere, and we’ll take him to Alistair tomorrow.

“I think I deserve ice cream for this,” I say, wincing at the next sting. The glass clinks into the bowl.

“Absolutely. Mint or strawberry?”

“Both. In the biggest chocolate-dipped cone with sprinkles and marshmallows.”

Rhett chuckles lightly. “Of course.”

When he’s taken the last piece out, I brace for the more intense sting of alcohol to clean the wounds. My teeth slam together, and I hiss.

“All done,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Thank god.”

“I don’t think any will scar. We got lucky.”

“Damn, I was hoping for some battle scars.”

He doesn’t match my amusement. He’s reeling in his turmoil over what happened.

“I’m okay, Rhett. I mean it. Physically and mentally. You said the marriage will be void. He just did it to get under your skin and make me feel like he owned me all this time.”

I can’t deny the thought haunts me still, but I’m trying not to let it tarnish the memories we have and that we found each other again.

“It’s not over yet. And it kills me to see you bleed.”

“I know,” I say, getting up on my knees. I shift until I’m straddling him, and his hands cup my ass.

I kiss him, and he groans into my mouth. Then I break, trailing my lips over his jaw, down his neck. He squeezes my ass and I press tighter into him.

“You’re distracting me from the topic.”

“What topic? Ice cream?”

I squeal when he moves. It’s as if I’m floating. He’s so gentle with me considering my cuts and tenderness. He hovers over me.

“It pains me to say this,” he murmurs huskily. I gasp when his teeth pinch my nipple over the lace. “But get dressed. You deserve your sugar rush.”

“Maybe I want something different now.” My legs loop around his waist.

“After,” he says, kissing me once.

I’m glad Rhett insisted on getting ice cream. We came to a small hotel for it in a quiet part of the city and snuck up to the rooftop to watch the sunset.

I’ve finished the strawberry top scoop and I’m now licking mint chocolate chip and moaning at the new flavor.

“If you don’t stop that, I’ll be taking you up here for the city to see,” Rhett warns.

My stomach flutters. I moan again. I’m kind of high on pain meds someone brought from the Den. Having an ex-army doctor has it’s perks, though I highly suspect the more powerful drugs could be stolen pharmaceuticals anyway.

I look at him with a playful grin and then giggle at his baseball cap and sunglasses. I wear the same as we’ve become America’s most-wanted fugitives, but luckily, no one recognizes us.

“See? We can make this work,” I say, swinging my legs off the ledge of the eight-story hotel. “We’ll start a hat and Ray-Ban collection, switch up our disguise. Oh! You could grow a mustache. I could get a wig. Maybe we could turn it into roleplay by the end of date nights.”

When I take another lick of ice cream and he doesn’t respond, I find him staring over the cityscape with a troubled look.

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