“How are you doing?” I ask.Stupid question. “Are you bleeding?”Even worse.
“Yeah, still bleeding. Leg more than my side, I think.”He sucks in a breath, loud enough for his mic to pick it up.“Side hurts worse though.”
“Should we stop?”
“Absolutely not. Need this bullet out, and can’t do that at the side of the road.”A pause.“Would be easier if I had something to distract me.”
“Shall I sing a song?”
He chuckles, but it’s forced.“No. I want you to tell me therealreason you didn’t meet me for dinner.”
Fuck.
I’m staying close to support him, and he’s making this aboutus.
He’s riding away from a goddamn robbery, a bullet in his leg, probably trailing blood, and he’s choosingnowto have a relationship discussion?
“Focus on your riding.”
“I always do,”he replies, voice carrying his strain.“But not as much as I focus on you. Why weren’t you there, Raven?”
What can I say? That I lost my appetite when I found out he was fuckingmarried?
For a second, I’m tempted to give him that exact line. But if he finds out I know, what would he do?
Run, probably. Then Kurt would hunt him down—he won’t get far in his state.
I have to lie.
But I’ve been quiet too long, and he fills the silence.“Did I make you nervous?”he asks.“Did you pull back because we’re getting close?”
It’s a convenient excuse. Even sounds like the kind of thing I might do.
It’s quite perceptive of him, save that he’s absolutely wrong.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Good,”he says firmly.
Good?
“What do you mean, ‘good’?”
“I like that we’re getting close.”
“We’re not gettingclose,” I say before I can stop myself.
He chuckles.“You just admitted we are, little hellcat.”
I scowl, clenching my jaw. He’stoyingwith me, and worse, I’m making it easy for him.
He’s so damn annoying.
We reach the lowest part of Coldwater Canyon, and the road runs straight all the way to the 101. There’s no one around. Declan edges up toward a hundred.
“Aren’t you bleeding out yet?” I call over the wind.
“A few pints left.”He says it lightly, but I can’t help the spike of worry.
