Page 45 of Blackbeard
I mumbled a noise of disappointment.
“That’s too bad.”
Blackbeard regarded me with a long look, dark eyes leveled on me. He tilted his head, as if to say,you know better than to act up right now.
A few butterflies took wing in my stomach despite the fuzzy state of my brain. I wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet, but my body still reacted to being the center of his attention.
“So, how long do I have to be cooped up in bed?” I added. “Not that I’m complaining. What’s not to like? My husband is waiting on me hand and foot. I could get used to this.”
Blackbeard chuckled and finger-combed his hair back with a sigh, tying it into the ponytail he always wore at the nape of his neck.
“Two or three days minimum. A week or more would be best, but I doubt you’ll sit still for that.”
“I’ll do whatever my doctor tells me to,” I replied.
He huffed a laugh and shook his head as he rose to his feet.
“You must be feeling better already. That sassy mouth of yours is reappearing, princess.”
When Blackbeard retrieved his phone from the nightstand, that’s when it dawned on me that he was leaving. And something squeezed in my stomach.
I reached out and hooked my fingers lightly around his pinkie. Smoothing my thumb over his brown, tattooed skin, callused and warm. For a few seconds, we didn’t move, didn’t say anything. A knot formed in my throat.
Fuck, I felt soneedy.
I wasn’t trying to manipulate him. At least, not this time. But I couldn’t bear to be alone right now. In the dark. In this massive bed. There was no one else to turn to. I couldn’t call Dad for comfort. Couldn’t call Torch to keep me company with sex.
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, practically choking on the words that welled up, crowded against the back of my teeth. I couldn’t look at Blackbeard, but I felt the intensity of his gaze lingering on me.
“Do you…?” I faltered.
Blackbeard shifted his hand, enveloping my fingers in his grip. At last, I tipped my head back to look up at him.
He must have seen what I couldn’t say written on my face.
Do you have to go?
Blackbeard settled on the edge of the bed and eased back against the pillows. He tucked an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I released a breath of relief, resting my head on his chest.
I should have felt triumphant that he was playing right into my hands. I should have taken the chance to rib him about how I was winning him over, that he was going soft for his wife.
Instead, I said nothing at all, comforted by his presence as I slipped off to sleep again.
Yelling jarred me awake. I sat bolt upright and groaned as fire shot through my left side. I clamped a hand to my bandage and struggled out of bed. Grabbing my robe, I tugged it on, tied the sash in a sloppy loop, praying it would hold.
“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down! My daughter was shot!”
Shit. Dad is here.
I hurried out of the bedroom, following the sound of the voices into the living room. Three Blackjacks and five Forsaken were crowded together, standing nose to nose, posturing with angry gestures.
“I left Leigh in your care,” Dad snapped. “The next thing I hear, one of your men tried to kill her. It’s explicitly stated in our agreement that you keep her safe. We had a deal!"
“We’ve handled the situation,” Kingpin said, putting his hands out in a placating motion. “Crash has been properly punished—”
“Bullshit,” Torch cut in. “You probably gave him nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Hand over the little fucker.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Blackbeard barked.
