Page 63 of Property of Rattler

Stone isn’t stupid. If he senses a trap, Rat’s dead. We’ve got just one chance at taking him down.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

AMES

Icome awake to someone shaking my shoulder. The first thought that comes to mind is that it’s far too early.Flynn, leave me alone.I try to roll over and go back to sleep. My eyes feel swollen and sore when I go to open them. Sluggishly, I manage to crack them as slits, then widen them as far as I can when I don’t recognise the room I’m in. It’s certainly not my bedroom at the cabin, and it’s not Flynn who’s trying to wake me.

Then the events of yesterday come slamming back into me. I bolt upright, only succeeding in making the room spin.

The bed dips as someone sits on it and puts their arm around me. “Shit, Ames. I’m so sorry for waking you like this. You probably feel like shit. But I’ve got news.”

I blink, trying to bring her into focus, rubbing my eyes as if that will help. Then I remember, she’s Trixie, Freak’s old lady. And it’s their bed I’m lying in.

Her words get through to me. “What news?”

“Rattler’s alive.”

What?My heart beats fast as if someone had applied an electric shock to it. “For real?”

“Apparently. Hey, girl, Bullseye wants to talk to you when you’re up to it. You feeling up to coming down, or do you want him to come up here?”

“I’ll come down.” I start to get out of bed. Nothing’s going to stop me from getting answers. But as soon as I start to put weight on my legs they seize and I stagger.Oh yeah, it was all that running at incline yesterday.Every muscle in my legs screams. But while it’s more intense, it’s nothing the kind of pain I’ve suffered before when I’ve pushed myself too far.

“Whoa, hold up there.” Trixie puts her arm out for me to hold on to. “You’ve got time. You’ll feel better if you have a shower before going downstairs.”

“I want to see Bullseye now,” I protest.

She’s got genuine compassion in her eyes. “Honey, you can’t go down until you’re at least dressed. Why not take a moment to get refreshed while I sort out something you can wear?”

The sensible part of me knows immersing myself under hot water will help, but I’m anxious to hear any news the MC prez might have. Trixie, though, seems determined. I shrug off her offer of assistance, and make my way, slowly, it has to be said, to the bathroom. Inside I pause, leaning up against the wall.Flynn’s alive.I can’t believe it. Having convinced myself of the opposite, it’s hard to adjust.Has he escaped from Malachi? Is he coming to the clubhouse?

I turn my attention to the shower, deciding the quicker I get this done, the sooner I’ll find out.

Freak’s a big man, so it shouldn’t surprise me the shower cubicle is large, and while there’s a rainfall shower head, there are also other jets that shoot out from the walls. Once I’ve worked out how to start them and get the right temperature, Ijust stand for a moment, enjoying the bliss of the warmth on my sore legs.

That it’s also Trixie’s is shown by the feminine body wash, shampoo and conditioner. Ignoring the three-in-one which I’m sure is what the enforcer uses, I help myself to her toiletries. Bronwyn had washed the worst of the dirt off last night, but the drain still has mud coloured water trickling down it.

Questions race through my mind as I shampoo my hair, automatically going through the motions of rinsing it, washing it a second time, then applying conditioner. My head must still be woozy from whatever the nurse had given me last night. Why hadn’t I asked Trixie for details? Flynn could be injured and in the hospital.

Now with more urgency, I make the final rinse of my hair. Then I turn off the shower, and wrap a large towel around me, using a smaller one for my head. When I’m as dry as I can make myself, and my hair’s not dripping everywhere, I step back into the bedroom.

Trixie’s made herself busy in my absence, the bed’s been made, and from the scent, with freshly laundered sheets. And there, on the cover, is a pile of clothes.

Panties which look new, shorts that, while not straight out of a shop, are at least clean and fresh smelling. And on the top is a t-shirt, far too big for me, but one that when I reach out to pick it up, holds a familiar scent.It’s Flynn’s. It has to be. It smells like the soap he uses.I hold it to my nostrils, and luxuriate in just breathing it in.

When I stop being self-indulgent, I realise there’s no bra, but hell, I don’t care if the girls hang out, the t-shirt will completely cover me. Quickly I get dressed, knotting Flynn’s enormous-on-me shirt at my hips.

Just as I’ve finished, a knock comes at the door, and Trixie steps in. “You look tons better.” She grins.

“I feel it,” I tell her. While my muscles still give off that overworked feeling, at least they’re not as tight as earlier.

“I got you one of Rat’s shirts from his room.”

Although I guessed that’s what it was, I nod and thank her.

“Are you ready?”

I motion to my hair. “Can I borrow a hairbrush?”