Page 123 of Painted Scars
“Could be worse.” August shrugs and pockets his phone. “They could have used the still of you smiling.”
“Yeah. Imagine the memes captioning that.” I snort. Then I hit his chest. “Stop it, Daddy.”
His eyes darken, and his mouth curls slowly, the way I imagine it did behind his visor. “Say that again.”
“Not in your dreams.” Book Girlie betrays me and inches me forward.
He dips down, and I capture the neck of his hoodie, tugging him close for a rough, desperate kiss that says he’ll do anything to make us work. Hell. This time, I’m inclined to believe him.
“Stop looking at me like that.” He pulls back and leaves me breathless, lips pulsing for more. “We need to fire back.”
“Oh, yeah.” I scratch my head, and the plan comes flooding back. “Empire Strikes Back-style. Only we win. Period. No creepy emperor.”
His smirk screams victory. “You up for it or want to stay here?”
“Oh, I’m up for it, Grovel King.” I slip out of bed.
He nods in the direction of the bathroom. “Get your ass in the shower.”
I clamp handcuffs on my Book Girlie before she drags him under the hot water for some sensual action. My feelings are still here, glowing softly like an ember, and I won’t let his kiss turn it into a wildfire I can’t control.
CHAPTER 35 - AUGUST
The ride to the bunker is quiet. Thank fuck it’s not the heavy kind that threatened to break us. Kate’s folded around me, arms tight around me, palms flat on my stomach, helmet leaning into my shoulder. The engine rumbles a steady threat beneath us. Every time I shift, she tightens her grip, as if she fears I’ll drop her off at the first bus stop and never come back. I take the long route, cutting through back streets, thanking my lucky fucking stars that she’s not icing me out.
She set strict boundaries. No masks, no secrets, and I’ll fucking give it to her. She’ll hold me to my word and torch me if I screw this up again.
I barely roam about the city in the day unless it’s necessary. The sun’s too honest for the kind of work I do. I’m built for alleys after midnight, secret meetings in pitch-black gardens, spying from the shadows between cars. Each street we take feels wrong. Too many eyes watching over the city. Too much risk of something going wrong.
Weeds curl through the chain link fences surrounding the abandoned school Spartacus calls home. We park beside the cracked brick wall of the old school, safely out of sight.
Kate swings off behind me, swaying slightly, bracing herself on the back of my bike, finding her balance. That fucker hit her hard enough to leave a mark I can’t fix. He’s lucky I only took a finger. When this ghost catches up with him, he’ll pray for death.
I didn’t sleep last night. Caffeine fueled my watch over her. Shoulders curled, her body flinched in her sleep, and she murmured sentence fragments and called my name. I apprised every noise like it was a threat. Brushed hair from her temple, whispering that she was safe, promising that I’ll protect her, until her breathing evened out. She’s strong, smiles away her pain, never showing vulnerability, but that doesn’t mean she’s okay.
I unclip her helmet for her before she drops it. “Are you okay, Glitter Bomb?”
She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Headache.”
“Do you want me to call my doctor back?” I ask.
Her head tilts in a slow no. “I’m fine. Just a little dizziness getting off. It’s fading.”
Sure. And I’m a fucking fantasy romance prince.
I slide the backpack from her shoulders and rifle through it for the Tylenol and water bottle. “Take more of these.” I drop the pills into her palm. She’s due for her next dose. “Humor me.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She folds her hands over the pills, cracks open the water bottle and washes them down.
The words slam into me, heat pooling low where I don’t need it now. She has no idea the power they carry, jump-starting my heart, which flatlined out of fear of losing her a second time. I bite back the reply I want to give, tuck my hands in my pockets, and focus on her capping the bottle.
She points to the decrepit building. “Is this where you learned your ABCs?”
“I learn lots of things here.” I beckon her to follow with a jerk of my head.
Holding the bike upright, I wheel it into the hallway out of sight and nudge the kickstand down. The front doors hang crooked on their hinges. Windows are blacked out or busted in by vandals.
I claim her hand and tug her deeper, maintaining a slow pace, matching hers, in case she needs a rest. My eyes scan the corners, and my ears listen for anything that doesn’t belong. The bunker’s past the gym, through a set of double doors.
