He huffs out, “Fine. But we are calling church soon.” he mutters off, “These damn women are going to put us in an early grave.”
“Correct, Prez.” I brush off anymore side conversations.
The club had been turned from a bunch of men that have been afraid to let love take a hold of them to doors and windows opening at every opportunity to where we would stop the world for them.
And mine is sitting on the couch. I gather the files we have on the Falcons and the shady business dealings. An information overload, but I’m not going to keep hiding anymore.
I step into the living room and see that my little angel is passed out on the couch. She’s curled up in a little ball, her knees to her chest, her arms cradling a pillow.
She couldn’t wait, sleep overtook her.
There is no way I’m going to get her home this late at night.
Not when she’s in my home.
I take her phone from her back pocket, holding it to her face to unlock the phone. Scrolling through her phone, I find her aunt’s phone number and text her through my phone, telling her that her niece passed out and I didn’t want to wake her. Her aunt messages back with a smirk emoji. Her aunt is a smart woman, and wouldn't want to underestimate her.
I’m not going to leave her like this. But I’m not going to be a monster, at least not yet. I step up to the couch, weightlessly picking her up in my arms and taking her to my bed.
I’ll take the couch.
She doesn’t stir as I move her, but her head nuzzles my chest, and her little sighs stir something else in me.
She has inched her way into my mind, and all I want to do is keep her safe. Her and her family and her world.
As I place her in my bed, the back of my hand caresses her cheek, and I swear I can see the softest smile as I do.
Dream of me, angel.
Chapter 22
Lottie
Fire.
Guns.
Blood.
A nightmare creeps into my sleep. Cedric on the ground bruised, beaten, bloodied.
Finn ripped from my arms.
A gun to my head. My eyes closed, whispering something.
A piercing scream wakes me up.
I wake up, chest heaving struggling to find my breath. Wetness dripping down my cheeks. A blanket falling down my chest. I blink to adjust a bright light.
I’m in a room, not my own.
My hands drag across the blankets, not my bed, Keola’s bed. The left side is empty, but kept.
He didn’t sleep here. The door is closed, providing me privacy.
I move out of the bed, my bare feet striking the ground. I walk through the hallway, someone’s in the kitchen. I clutch to my chest. In a strange place and I don’t know what is going on.
I walk towards the living room, the open concept giving me a bit of relief. I can see everything, nothing is hidden.
