Page 123 of Misted

He nudges her shoulder. “You’re escaping, aren’t you.”

She checks her peach-coloured nails before touching her stomach over her T-shirt. “You think Ink can do a cover up tattoo for me?”

That’s new. She was never ashamed of her scar. She used to walk around with it in full display for the world to see.

Hawk abandons his push-ups and jumps to his full height to tower over Scar. “You will not utter his name again.”

Oh my. I need to tell him about my plan with Ink before things get sour.

“But I need that cover up!”

“Why now?” Hawk crosses his arms over his broad, naked chest, which makes his 3D Hawk tattoo pronounced and menacing.

Crow continues pushing Scar but she deflates by her random World War Two facts.

“You have a cut,” I tell Crow, pointing at his arm so he’d have his wife look at it. She disappeared into the house, preparing some drinks.

Hawk throws a glare at Crow then swings towards me with his brows drawn over glinting azure eyes. “I think my wound is acting up.”

I’m at his side in a second, my fingers snaking up the plaster. “Is it infection? Dammit, you shouldn’t have overworked yourself. Let me get Eloise so she can take a look.”

“No.” Hawk peeks at me over his shoulder. “Just keep doing that.”

My fingers stretch around the plaster, confused. “This?”

He makes an affirmative sound without saying anything.

“Get a clue, redhead.” Crow keeps Scar on an arm’s length as he shakes his head, mocking. “He’s not hurt, he just wants your hands on him like a big fucking baby.”

Hawk cuts him a harsh glare and it’s all I need for confirmation. I hit his arm. “I really thought you were hurt.”

His lips curve in a mixture between a smile and a smirk, but he doesn’t seem the bit apologetic.

“I bet he’s fantasising about you kissing it better like in some cheap nurse porn.” Crow continues taunting.

“You’re the one married to a nurse,” Hawk points out.

“Hashtag, burn. In Flame’s voice.” Scar jumps and I can’t help smiling.

Eloise appears at the threshold of the house, carrying a tray of lemonade and cradling her back.

I run towards her and help in placing the tray on the table. She straightens, patting a hand over her engorged belly.

Although I try to ignore the pang, it hits me anyway. I’ll never have this. Not in this lifetime.

I don’t deserve to be a mother after I failed to protect my child.

“Do you want a drink?” Eloise asks, her ‘R’ is more pronounced in the French accent.

“Maybe something stronger.”

She groans. “If I have to suffer without even a beer then everyone else will.”

I’m about to help her sit down when an arm wraps around my collarbone from behind. “Hey, love.”

I don’t get to blink or think or smell the male perfume properly.

Hawk sprints towards us, shatters a glass of lemonade and is hauling the presence off me.

I shriek when blood splatters on the floor.