Page 177 of Reverie
In the quiet aftermath, we stay connected. Our lips remain pressed to the other’s while my softening dick rests inside her.
It’s like neither one of us wants this moment to end.
“I just want shit like this to stop happening, Hunter,” she says, her eyes closed. The soft honesty of her words still lands like a hammer.
“I know, baby. I know,” I say. And no matter what, I’m committed to making that happen.
I leftWinter to sleep in our bedroom with the balcony doors open to let in the afternoon breeze. She says the crash of the waves settles something within her, and I hope it will help calm her frayed nerves.
When we got back into the house, she started to hyperventilate, but she said it was “only a small panic attack.” I disagreed and encouraged her to take her emergency anti-anxiety meds, but she declined, worried about the baby. I didn’t want to press and send her into another episode. A call to the doctor at Misha’s compound confirmed that a hefty dose of Benadryl should knock her out and help her calm down without endangering the baby.
I need to ask Winter specifics about what happened at the shop, not necessarily because I distrust Patrick but more because I don’t know him.
But Misha trusts his crew, so I’ll extend them a sliver of acceptance.
Still, Winter is in no condition to rehash the events of the last few hours, so while she takes the option to bring herself down with some antihistamines, I make it my mission to find Patrick and Keegan.
It takes me a minute to cross the house in search of either of them, but when I don’t find the two guards, I follow the trail down to the security house at the base of the hill.
The lights are on, and Keegan’s dark hair is visible through the window.
But when I hear Patrick shouting, I freeze.
“And why thefuckshould I trust you?” Patrick roars, his voice loud through the open window.
I’m acutely aware that I don’t have my gun, and I curse myself for being so stupid. Even though we’re on a deserted island, I should be ready for any fucking thing to happen.
I contemplate how I can get to the cache of weapons in the security house when Keegan swings the door open.
“Come in, enjoy the party,” he grouses, opening the door wider. He seems completely unsurprised that I’m here.
I slide into the room but stop short when I see Marcus Law seated at the head of the table, looking like the king of the island.
Patrick looks agitated as he rocks from foot to foot with his arms crossed while Keegan stares hard at the interloper.
“Somebody wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?” I ask.
Marcus’ face is like stone, his gaze never wavering from me.
“Law decided to pay us a visit,” Patrick spits. “Despite coming in like the Angel of Death and then dropping us in the middle of a crowded shopping center, he has more business to discuss, apparently.”
“Listen, I saved your asses. The Legion got the drop on you and sent me to clean up the mess. Don’t underestimate the level of personal risk I’m taking,” Marcus says.
“And for what reason do you care?” Keegan throws back.
That causes something to ghost over his expression.
“I ask myself that question every fucking day,” Marcus replies, his tone flat.
When Marcus Law rises from his chair, dusting off his cargo shorts, I’m prepared for many things.
Except for him to punch me in the face.
Wiping blood from my split lip with the back of my hand, I chuckle at the sight. Then I return the jab, hitting Marcus in the nose.
His head snaps back, and Patrick chuckles, clearly enjoying this ass-beating. I’m unsure who he’s supporting, though.
I land one more punch, and Law gets me in the ribs.