Page 24 of Fury

“The fight club,” he replies, pulling out his mobile. He presses it to his ear as I pull out and head for the club. “Good morning. I’d like to send the biggest bouquet of white roses you can find,” he says into the mobile. “Put them on my account. Mister Donnie Nelson.” I hate that name, and my hands curl tighter around the steering wheel. “Yes, add a note,” he continues. “My everything,” he adds, and I almost roll my eyes. “Forgive me.” He waits a beat before thanking them and disconnecting. “Women,” he says, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. “They’re so easily upset.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I mutter.

He arches a brow. “You’ve never upset a woman?” He looks amused.

“No. I try not to.”

“We all try,” he says, “but sometimes we slip up. But it’s fine, she’s forgiven me.” I inhale sharply, trying to keep my cool. “Would you go back for her and drive her to the hospital?” he asks.

It’s the first time I haven’t wanted to see her since I first bumped into her. “Sure thing.”

“She’ll protest. Don’t take no for an answer.” I stop outside his club, and he opens the door. “Oh, and Fury, let me know if she texts or calls anyone.”

I frown. “Do you want me to ask her who she’s texting?”

“No. Just observe. Does she look happy texting whoever it is? Is she speaking to a man if she accepts a call?”

I give a stiff nod. “Got it.”

I return to Xanthe’s house and stare at the closed door. By having sex, I’ve opened myself up to her again. Now, I have to face the music.

I get out the car just as her door opens and she steps out. She doesn’t see me right away and walks up the path with her head down, like she’s lost in thought. It’s only when I open the back door that she startles, and then that guilty expression returns. “Get in,” I order.

She looks down the street. “I think I want to walk today.”

“Not an option,” I say firmly.

“Is that an order from him or you?”

I don’t meet her eye, and she sighs heavily, getting into the car. I slam the door and get in the driver’s seat. I start the engine as she puts her seatbelt on. “It wasn’t what it looked like,” she begins.

“I don’t want to know,” I spit.

“We didn’t have sex,” she adds.

I slam my hand against the steering wheel. “Stop talking,” I yell, looking at her through the mirror. She presses her lips into a fine line. “I want to rip his head off,” I hiss. “And if you tell meshit I can’t handle, I’ll kill him and then my President will kill me, so stop fucking talking.”

We drive the short journey to the hospital in silence, and when we arrive, I get out and open her door. I don’t look at her as she slides from the vehicle, but she pauses, composing herself. “I tried to end it with him,” she whispers. “You were right. He’s not a nice man.” And before I can respond, she heads off inside.

I stare after her, her words playing on my mind. Then my mobile rings, and I drag myself back into the car before answering.

“Did she call anyone?” asks Donnie.

“No,” I confirm.

“Text?”

“No.”

“Did she say anything?” he demands, reminding me of a lovesick schoolboy.

“No.” I pause before adding, “She looked sad, though. Upset even.”

“Careful,” he almost whispers. “Paying too much close attention to my woman gets my back up.” And then he disconnects.

I throw my phone onto the passenger seat and get back out the car, marching into the hospital. I see Xanthe by the nurse’s station, and her eyes widen in surprise, but I don’t give her a chance to speak before I grab her hand and pull her into a side room. Another nurse rushes after us. “I’ll call security,” she threatens.

“It’s fine,” says Xanthe, giving a reassuring smile. “I know him.” The nurse reluctantly leaves. “You’ll get me fired,” she cries. And then she bursts into tears, burying her face in her hands. My anger instantly melts away, and I drag her into my arms, holding her against my chest and whispering words of comfort into her hair. When she calms, I tip her head back andwipe her tears with my thumbs. “I thought you were still in the house,” she whimpers.

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