Shattered King(98)

God, I didn’t want to feel this way anymore. Scared out of my mind, afraid for the ones I loved.

I dragged the comforter off the bed, and padded to Josh’s room to check on him. He was fast asleep, thumb in his mouth. Going by the small smile on his lips, he was dreaming good things. I brushed his hair back from his face and kissed his soft, warm cheek. That’s all I wanted for my son, to have good dreams. No more nightmares. Real or imagined.

I left him sleeping, and headed down the hall. Light from the street filtered into the living room, washing the whole place in a multi colored glow. I flicked on the TV, slumped onto the couch, and dragged the comforter over me. Catfish reruns were on, so I settled back to watch. Anything to keep my mind off what Hunter might be doing at that moment.

Is this what my life would be from now on? Sitting in the dark, waiting for him to come home, hoping like hell that when he did, he’d still be in one piece?

That the bad guys didn’t follow him here when he did.

He said I had to get used to it, find a way of dealing with it, with the danger—the dangerous people—he dealt with every time he walked out the door.

Right then, curled up on the couch, sick to my stomach with fear, I didn’t know if I could.

* * *

“Come here, baby, you’ve got jam all over you.” I lifted Josh onto the bathroom cabinet and went to town on his grubby little face and hands. He’d slept in, which was appreciated, since it took hours for me to finally fall asleep on the couch after Hunter left, and what little sleep I did have was restless.

It was after ten a.m. and I still hadn’t heard from him, so I was doing everything I could to distract myself.

I wanted to call him desperately, but I wouldn’t let myself. First, I didn’t want to come across as overly needy, and second, if he was still busy with the bad guys, I didn’t want to distract him from whatever he was doing.

I picked Josh up, gave him a squishy hug, and carried him out to the living room. “How about we bake a cake?”

He clapped his hands. “Chocolate!”

“Why not.” Anything that would occupy my mind and keep me busy was a good thing.

Josh was still on my hip and I’d just started pulling out ingredients, when the door opened and Hunter walked in. Van right behind him.

Josh lit up, his smile full and beautiful as soon as he saw them. He wriggled in my arms to get down so he could go to Hunter, but I held on as I stood frozen, supporting my son with one hand, a carton of eggs in the other. “What happened?” I demanded.

“I’m okay.” Hunter held up a hand, a placating gesture, and his jacket slipped off one shoulder. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his arm only in one sleeve. He had a thick bandage around his upper arm, shoulder, and across his chest. He also had a bruised and cut cheek, the cut held shut with those little clear strips.

He took a step toward me and I took a step back. “You’re not okay.”

Van moved in before I knew what was happening. He took the eggs out of my hand and placed them on the counter. He reached for Josh, but I shook my head and took another step back. I hit the counter behind me. “You promised,” I said.

“Fuck,” Hunter muttered, shoved the jacket off the rest of the way, and then started across the room toward me.

I couldn’t back up any farther. It was stupid, but right then I wanted to run, wanted to be anywhere but there, confronted with my worst nightmare. I watched, eyes fixed on that bright white bandage as he got closer. He rested the hand of his uninjured arm on the counter beside my hip. “Look at me, Lulu.”

I forced my gaze away from his bandage. “You promised,” I repeated. I knew what I was saying was ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop the words coming out of my mouth.

His hand went to my waist, thumb going up underneath my shirt, brushing across bare skin. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not.” My eyes dropped to his shoulder. “That is not okay.”

“It went right through,” Van said. “He’ll be good as new, two, three weeks max.”

“What went through?”

Hunter swung to his brother, a scary look on his face, at the same time Van answered, “The bullet.”

I felt my knees go weak, blood rushing through ears. “A bullet,” I choked, throat suddenly dry. “Someone shot you?”

“What the fuck, Van?” Hunter growled.

Van winced, lifted his hand to the back of his neck. “Shit.”

Hunter’s hand was still at my hip. He fisted the fabric of my shirt. “Give Josh to Van and let’s go talk about this.”

“No.” I shook my head again. This was my biggest fear, now my reality. No, scratch that—my biggest fear was instead of his shoulder, it hit his chest, and he wasn’t standing in front of me scowling, he was in some hospital morgue, cold and lifeless. I’d already lost my father and my mother. I couldn’t lose anyone else. God, not Hunter.