Give Me Grace(160)

Kelly drew back sharply, looking like I’d punched him in gut. “Fuck.”

He muttered the word under his breath, but I still heard it. His reaction didn’t make sense. Why would he care?

“How bad is it?”

“That’s none of your business,” I replied.

Kelly stepped close again, so close I could feel the heat of his body. I tried inching back, but there was no room to move. “How bad is it?” he bit out.

“I’m supposed to be on my way home to Melbourne right now to start chemotherapy. I’ve already held off treatment as long as possible, so whatever the hell you’re doing with me, it’s pointless if I don’t get home.”

Kelly nodded carefully and I could see him absorbing what I was telling him. After a pause, I said, “Your turn.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he told me before he turned around and flipped the sandwiches, his body tense.

“What?”

“Your question. It wasn’t a murder-suicide,” he told me. Reaching up, he took two plates from the above cupboard and placed them on the counter, the grim reaper on his back glaring at me all the while.

“What was it then?”

“I answered your question,” he growled. He put the sandwiches on the plates, sliced mine into quarters, and turned, shoving the plate at me. I grabbed it before it dropped on the ground.

“Quarters? I’m not a child.”

“The cheese is hot,” he replied. “It’ll cool faster for you.”

“You’re worried I’ll burn my tongue?” I questioned, my eyes wide with disbelief. “After you backhanded me across the face?”

“I told you to be quiet and you started screaming. It hurt my fuckin’ ears.” He carried his plate to the dining table, dragging me along with him.

I noticed his sandwich wasn’t cut into quarters. He hadn’t cut his at all. “What, your tongue is so badass it can handle hot cheese and mine can’t?”

“Babe, you wanna know how badass my tongue is then sit down and spread your legs.”

I paused to glare at him, beginning to realise he was a lot more like his older brother than just in looks. “It all comes back to sex with you!”

Kelly snatched the plate from my hand and dumped it on the table. “Sit down, shut the fuck up, and eat.”

I sat, and I ate, and I blinked back tears because I wanted Casey and I wanted him now. I wanted him to wrap me up in his arms and hold me close like he loved to do. It made me feel safe when I was burrowed against him, inhaling his warm, male scent.

“Don’t cry,” Kelly ordered.

“Sure,” I muttered sarcastically.

His phone rang where it rested on the table beside him. I saw the name Morgan flash up on the screen before he picked it up. My eyes narrowed. That bitch! Were they in this together? I should’ve done more than just slap her in the face. I should’ve throat punched her. And when she went down, because my blow would’ve felled her, I could’ve scratched her eyes out and ripped every single hair extension from her head.

“What do you want?” Kelly answered.

I strained but I couldn’t hear her reply.

“Shit,” Kelly spat. “This ain’t the fuckin’ mafia, bitch.”

I took mild satisfaction at hearing him call her a bitch when all I got from him was babe or Grace. Suck on that, Morgan. The entire world knows you’re a mean cow.

“You can’t just go around putting hits on people because your brother is the president of the Sentinels.”

Oh shit.

And I’d slapped her.

No wonder they wanted me dead.

I was so dead.

So very, very dead.

I tuned back in to find Kelly ending the call.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Fuck.” He tossed his phone on the table without answering me and stood quickly. “Morgan is on her way and she’s got her fuckin’ brother involved.”

“What are you doing?” I shrieked, batting his hands away as he began strapping me back down in the chair. “You should be letting me go, not taping me up to await my doom like a Christmas turkey!”

“You don’t escape the fuckin’ Sentinels, Grace. Shit is about to fly. You’re better off here with me while I talk it out.” He paused and then picked up the tape. Ripping a piece off, he slapped it over my mouth. “Be better if you shut the fuck up too. If you start flappin’ your gums, you’ll only make it worse.”

On that ominous note, he disappeared down the hall. Moments later he returned, a handgun tucked into the waistband of his sweats and a shirt in his hands. He tugged it on, pulling it quickly over that motherfucker chest.