Page 113 of Risky Passion

"Take all the time you need, luvvy," Yasmin said, setting the clothes down on the bench with a gentle pat. "The undies are fresh from the wash, cross my heart."

I managed a weak laugh, grateful beyond words at the thought of clean clothes. At this point, I would have worn a potato sack if it meant getting out of the underwear I'd been stuck in for days.

“And if you want to rest, I’ve set up a bedroom for you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to—” I started, but Yasmin cut me off with a raised hand.

“We’ve got seven bedrooms in this place. Trust me, we’re an open door for anyone who pops over, or has too much to drink and can’t drive home . . . which is usually the case. Anyway, it’s no trouble.”

“Thank you. I don’t think I can sleep, though. Not until we hear about Blade and Viper.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Yasmin’s shoulders slumped. “Fingers crossed that Jaxson and Onyx find them quickly.”

“They will,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as her. “I mean, they found me in that croc-infested swamp. That was a miracle.”

Yasmin placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Then that’s the miracle we’re channeling.”

She gave my shoulder a squeeze before turning to leave, her movements breezy, like she was gliding on roller skates.

Once the door clicked shut, I let out a long breath and undid the buttons of Whitney’s shirt. As I slipped it off, a sharp sting of pain shot through my shoulder, drawing a wince. I’d nearly forgotten about the bullet wound in all the chaos.

I unwound the bandage, wincing as the gauze pulled at my skin.Fresh blood pearled up where the dried patches tore free, making my stomach flip. Damn it.

Wadding up toilet paper, I pressed it against the wound, biting back a hiss of pain. But through the sting, a softer memory surfaced: Jaxson's focused expression as he'd bandaged me, his hands steady and sure. Even with Whitney's life hanging in the balance, he'd taken the time to treat my wound and make sure I was okay.

I liked that about him. Jaxson had this way of giving himself completely, his time, his focus, without ever making me feel like he was stretched too thin. It was like he could carry the weight of everything without letting anyone feel like a burden.

The thought twisted something deep inside me. Jaxson was so unlike Izzy, my stepsister. She never wanted to share anything . . . time, attention, love. Not with me. Not even with our parents.

I had no idea why Izzy kept creeping into my thoughts. Maybe all my near-death experiences were making me feel like I should try to fix the relationship between us and reconnect somehow. Or maybe I just wanted to make life easier for my parents. Life was way too short to let her unfounded accusations keep tearing our family apart.

But Izzy was a fortress built on greed. She already had more money than she could ever need, yet somehow it was never enough. Greed was the poison that had seeped into her mind and twisted every sane thought about me. She didn’t seemeanymore, she had some distorted version of who she thought I was.

I exhaled sharply, shaking off the thoughts as I confirmed that my bullet wound had stopped bleeding. It had, for now. But before the blood started oozing again, I grabbed my towel and trotted to the shower stall at the back.

Hot water poured over me, washing away the grime, the blood, and the tension that had been clinging to my muscles. I scrubbed my body from head to toe, working shampoo into my hair until it felt fresh again. Then I spent what felt like forever digging dried mud out from under my nails.

Yasmin wasn’t kidding. This showerwasheaven.

By the time I stepped out, the bathroom was thick with steam, andmy skin was flushed a warm pink. For the first time in days, I felt almost normal.

Except for the blood oozing down my arm again.

After dabbing my wound until the bleeding stopped, I rummaged through the lockers, searching for something to wrap around my arm. Finding nothing, I conceded that I needed help before I could redress.

Wrapping the towel tightly around me, I poked my head out into the hallway. “Hey, Whisper! You there?”

Charlie’s earsplitting bark echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the walls like a warning shot.

“Yo, you okay?” Whisper called as she entered the hallway from the gymnasium.

“Can you lend me a hand?” I asked, retreating into the bathroom. As she stepped inside, I added, “Close the door behind you.”

Whisper arched a brow. “That sounds ominous.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not. I just need help with this bullet wound.”

I peeled back the wadded toilet paper to show her the damage.

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