Page 149 of Tormented
FORTY-TWO
Abbey
He’s been in there for over four hours. The gunfire stopped not long after they got inside, maybe twenty minutes at the most? I didn’t count. I was too busy puking in the hedge to pay that much attention.
Seated side-on over pretty boy’s bike, I tap the home button on my phone for the millionth time, cursing the fact it only has 7 percent battery left. If it dies while I’m waiting, I’m going to go stir crazy not knowing how long it’s been.
A scuff from my left sends my heart into my throat. I freeze, hoping the dark night will give some sort of cloaking effect and hide me in plain sight. The scuff gets louder, closer perhaps. I slip my hand down to where the gun rests atop the fuel tank.
Murmuring. A voice in the night.
I strain my ears so damn hard that my jaw aches with the pressure as I try to work out who it is. Friend or foe? What did half those Devil’s Breed men look like again? Not that it matters; Sawyer said I had permission to shoot anyone acting strange, so I’m sticking with it.
I palm the gun, slowly bringing it up to point in the general direction of the noise.
“Easy, Abbey-girl.”
The bike rocks with the speed I launch off the seat, the gun landing in the grass as I sprint through the dark toward the hazy outline of my man. He holds his arms wide, ready to catch me as I launch myself at him.
Four fucking hours.
Two hundred and forty minutes I feared he was dead or injured.
He wraps his strong arms around me, hoisting me high and crashing his mouth to mine.
“Best reward for a hard night’s work, ever,” he mumbles against my feverish lips.
“I was so stressed, you asshole. Why did it take so long?” I run my hand over his face, around his neck, searching for injuries I can’t see.
“It took as long as it needed to, baby.”
“Where are the others?”
Sawyer shifts one arm under my butt, and I wrap my legs securely around his waist as he walks us to his bike.
“They’re going through the place, looking for anything of use.”
“And you’re not with them?”
He shakes his head as he sets me down on the seat. “Nothin’ there I want to keep, other than what I brought out for you.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a closed fist. “I want you to wear it so I get the opportunity to see it every day.”
I offer my hand when he holds out his, and take the delicate jewelry he drops into my palm. It’s too dark to see the detail, but by running my fingers along the chain, I can pick it’s a pendant necklace.
“Thank you.”
Thank fuck for the dark and it hiding how much of a blubbering mess he’s made me.
He strips his cut off, handing it to me, and then peels his T-shirt off over his head. Something feels cool against my hand, and I realize that his leather is probably covered in blood splatter. A chill races up the arm that holds the cut, causing me to shudder violently.
“Everything okay?” Sawyer asks as he bends down to roll up the leg of his jeans.
“I’m touching his blood, aren’t I?”
“Yeah,” he says hesitantly before chuckling. “Guess I can say you met my old man, right?”
“That’s gross.”
He laughs.