“I do and I need four of them. Max. I can’t tell you why, but I will never ask you again. And I’m not working with any law enforcement agencies, in case you’re worried about that.”
“Jesus, Everly! I wasn’t until you said that!” he cries out, throwing his hands in the air. “Gimme a minute.”
He storms off to the next room, soon returning with a small container that’s holding the four pills I asked for.
“An older patient of mine had surgery a couple of months ago and they sent the prescription home with her. Her daughter is in recovery, so she didn’t want them lying around and gave them to me to dispose of,” he tells me, looking nervously around.
“Thank you. We’re even.” I say, nearly running for the door before he changes his mind.
“And you owe me one,” he dares to add.
I shoot him a look that relays what I was thinking.Why didn’t you dispose of them?
*
Standing over Jessup, I’m pleased to see that he’s sleeping peacefully and that the fever hasn’t returned. I want to check the burn marks on his feet, but right now rest is more important.
No matter the beating this man endured, he sure as hell wasn’t broken.
Warner and I went out a few times after I moved him here, and like most of the men I had previously dated, I found himlacking. It’s not that there’s ever been any great trauma that I lived through. I don’t know, maybe it was growing up without my mom and understanding my father’s sadness, no matter how strong he is for everyone around him.
But that strength of character is always something that’s been high on my list in a partner. I can sense it in Jessup, and it makes me wonder if it’s just me wishing for a chance with him.
“It’s a good thing you’re not a human doctor,” his voice jars me out of my thoughts. “The look on your face right now would terrify most people.”
“Sorry, just lost in thought.”
“You say ‘sorry’ too much. What were you thinking?" he asks, reaching for my hand.
“What would have happened to you if I hadn’t heard about that barn,” I tell him one of the many things that have weighed on me since my impromptu rescue mission. I open my mouth to say more, but his tummy rumbles, loudly reminding me he hasn’t eaten in—God knows how long. “I got you a breakfast burrito.”
“Hopefully more than one,” he moans, shifting to sit up against the padded back as I turn to reach for the food I left on the counter.
“Easy. Hold this down first, then I’ll let you have something else.”
He groans with his first bite, and I can tell he’s trying to eat slowly.
“My brother,” he says after I’ve started eating my own burrito.
“Hmm?” I make a sound around my food to get him to elaborate.
“My brother and the Kings are coming for me,” he says, not caring that his mouth is half-full. “Of course, now I need to get word to them that I’ve been kidnapped for the second time this week.”
I snort at his comment, then realize he probably has no idea where he is, considering how out of it he was yesterday.
“How far are we from Kent?” he asks me.
“About four hours or so.”
His jaw drops open with that news. I know I told him before, but between his fever and his injuries, I suspect he forgot.
“You weren’t the only one in danger, you know,” I tell him, my nerves ratcheting up a notch. “I had to find a place to hide you where there’d be no blowback on my dad or his friends. And I had to drive there without getting pulled over by the crooked sheriff or his crew, so the forty-five-minute drive into Montana was my best bet and at that point I figured I could get you back here and tend to you myself.”
“You’re right, I was just surprised is all,” he says, reaching out to rub my arm. I suppose neither the Montana nor Wyoming chapters of the Kings will raise a stink over me not letting themknow I was in their backyard. “I owe you more than I can ever repay. I know that, I just need a minute to catch up.”
“No, you don’t owe me anything. I’m just worried about my dad. He and his friends have been trying to, I don’t even know, build evidence against the crew then figure out who they can trust with it.”
“Tell me about your dad,” he asks, tentatively taking another bite as he watches me like I’m a stick of dynamite. “How’d he become a preacher?”
