Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I knew what he was asking, and I held out my hands, which had stopped shaking—mostly.
“Nausea? Headache? Paranoia?”
“Yes, yes, no,” I replied. “But my mate is currently unconscious, so I think I get a pass on the first two.”
“And you’ll tell me if anything changes?”
“Of course.”
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked suspiciously, looking between us. “Were you wounded?”
“I’m fine, Charlie,” I replied. “What have I missed?”
“Adamson’s locked in the pool house,” Ambrose replied. “He’s not talking.”
“Of course he isn’t,” I grumbled.
“Arthur’s on his way,” my father added. “We called him this morning.”
“You think that’s the best play?” I asked, glancing around the table.
“I think that by the time I called him, he’d already gotten word of two headless generals and knew one was missing. If we’d waited any longer, it could’ve looked like we were hiding something.”
I nodded, hesitant to argue about it. The day before, I would’ve pointed out that Arthur had lied to us when he’d said he thought Zeke’s death was an isolated incident. I would’ve reminded them that he’d secretly contracted Dalton to find information, leaving us in the dark.
After last night, I was worried that they’d assume it was the paranoia that my father had asked about.
“Rosemary’s awake,” Ian called from the doorway to the medical room.
My heart pounded as I lurched to my feet and raced toward my mate. When I made it to her bedside, she was still groggy and scowling.
“Hey, baby,” I greeted, slowing as I moved toward the head of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than you look,” she replied. “What the hell happened to you?”
“He was awake all night,” Gary informed her.
Rosemary groaned and leaned her head back against the pillow. “Worried about me?”
“Maybe a little,” I conceded, leaning close. “You were in pretty bad shape when we got there.”
“I was still kicking ass and taking names when you got there,” she argued stubbornly, her gaze roaming over my face.
“Fair point.”
“You should sit down before you fall down. Here, I’ll scoot—” Her words broke off with a wheeze as she tried to use her arms to shift sideways.
“Stay where you are,” I ordered quickly, leaning my hip on the edge of the bed, “I’m fine right here.”
“Fuck,” she moaned, wincing as she lifted her hand to her wounded shoulder. “What the hell?”
“You need to give yourself a little more time,” I cautioned. “Just sit still.”
“Why the hell isn’t my arm working?” she asked, flexing her fingers slowly.
“You can move your fingers,” I replied, relief sweeping through me.
“Why wouldn’t I be able to move my fingers?” She rotated her wrist just fine, but when she tried to lift her arm, nothing happened. “Fuck.”
“Give it some time,” Alice ordered, stomping into the room. “Don’t ruin all my hard work by popping your stitches.”
Rosemary nodded slowly, eyeing my honorary aunt.
“Rosemary, this is my Aunt Alice.”
“You’re a doctor?” Rosemary asked.
“I am.”
“How’s Seamus?”
Aunt Alice glanced at the boy in the bed. “He’ll be fine.”
“Thank God,” Rosemary whispered.
Gary and I stood by while Alice checked Rosemary over, looking under bandages and murmuring to her quietly. When she was finished, she nodded.
“You can take her up to bed,” she told me. “She’ll heal faster with some peace and quiet.”
Rosemary looked worriedly over at Seamus.
“He’s just sleepin’, Flower,” Gary told her, patting her foot.
Alice settled Rosemary’s bad arm into a sling, and I helped her to her feet while Gary looked away, so I could wrap the blanket all the way around her bare body before I lifted her into my arms. We’d had to cut all of her clothes off the night before. There wasn’t a piece that had been salvageable.
The house was quiet as I carried her to the stairs and up to my room. I wasn’t sure where everyone had gone, but I was thankful that we didn’t run into anyone. When we stepped inside my small apartment, Rosemary lifted her head from my shoulder and looked around.
“So this is your place,” she mused quietly.
“I haven’t been here much,” I replied apologetically, looking around. The space was pretty sparse. I’d never really decorated because I didn’t care what it looked like, but now that I was showing it to my mate, I was a bit embarrassed. While fully furnished, it lacked any kind of personality whatsoever.
“I wasn’t at the townhouse much either,” she mused as I carried her into the bedroom. “But it still looked like someone lived there.”
“You can do whatever you want with it,” I offered. “Consider it a blank slate.”
“Oh, yeah,” she groaned as I lowered her onto the bed. “I just love to decorate. It’s my thing.” The sarcasm was thick.
I smiled half-heartedly at the joke and turned to my dresser to get her a shirt.
“Danny?” she called. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. What do you mean?”
When I turned back toward her with a T-shirt in my hands, I froze.