Page 42 of Veiled Vows

“I-I’m fine, what about you?” Just as I reach for his shoulder, Roman suddenly sags into me with a soft groan.

“Ah. Shit.”

“Roman? What is it? What’s wrong?”

He’s rapidly becoming a deadweight in my arms, and we both look down as he pulls the soaked hem of his shirt upward revealing a deep laceration in his side. “I—fuck, I’m sorry?—”

“Roman!” His eyes flutter and close, and suddenly I’m the sole support for his solid body. “Roman!”

“Take it all.”Every dollar from my pockets, the car’s glove box, and Roman’s pockets are pressed into the clerk’s hands. “Thank you.”

“I don’t usually ask questions,” the older motel owner drawls. “But you sure you’re gonna be alright, little lady?”

“I’m fine. We’re fine. Please, take it. Thank you.”

He looks me over with one eye half closed, then nods and hobbles away counting out the bills. I have no idea how much I gave him, but after he helped me drag Roman’s unconscious body from the Uber to the room, I don’t care. He deserves every cent.

I close the door, slide the chain into place, and lock both the locks. Then I draw all the curtains and drag the small wooden chair against the door, angling the back just under the door handle so anyone trying to break in will struggle.

After Roman collapsed, I considered calling my father, but it felt too risky. If Alto is behind this, then there’s no telling what other nasty surprises are waiting for me, so holding off until Roman tells me everything is the safest bet.

But first things first. I need to check his wounds. What I was able to look at in the car didn’t look too deep, but the wound on his side coupled with the fight and the wound on his shoulder is keeping him down and out. A hospital is just as risky as calling home, so I’m on my own.

The motel bathroom has everything I need to get started; hot water, antiseptic lotion, and some old butterfly stitches left in an even older medical box. As long as they stick, they’ll do. Roman remains unconscious on the couch with one arm over his body and the other dangling down to the floor. He’s breathing and his pulse is strong, but every second he remains out of it is a second my anxiety increases.

I need him awake. I need answers.

Kneeling down on the floor, I scrape my soaked hair back from my face and bite back a whimper as pain flares from the dark bruise forming on my forehead. I’m mostly uninjured from the crash, but I think I left a good pound of foundation on the dashboard where my forehead collided.

Just as I reach for Roman’s shirt, his hand darts out to grab my wrist, making me jump right out of my skin. “Fuck!”

“Sorry!” Roman also darts upward, and I throw myself back to stop our foreheads from colliding. His eyes are wide as he scans the room trying to orient himself, panting heavily until his eyes lock onto me. “What the—what happened?”

“You fainted.”

“I didn’t.”

“You so did.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You came in like some flying knight, and that guy stabbed you and then it was raining and I just…” My words fly out in a rush as my heart races. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

“Shit … I’m sorry, Jasmine.”

“Don’t be.” Rising back onto one knee, my free hand cups his cheek. “You saved me.” And wasn’t that just the hottest thing to replay in my mind? “Although, I’m still confused about how you were even there.”

“Never mind there, how did I get here?”

“Uber.”

Roman’s brows meet his hairline. “How?”

“Dragged you. Told the driver you were drunk. And the motel owner.”

“Jasmine—”

“Look, let’s just focus on one thing at a time. You got stabbed, and I’m kind of worried about the blood, so can you let me treat you first and then we can talk?”

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