Chapter Thirty-Eight
Noah
I pull into Bobbi’s driveway. The lights are on in her living room behind closed curtains. The engagement ring feels like a box of lead in my pocket, rather than a beautiful dream and hope. Bobbi said she wanted to talk, not take me back.
Besides, I want to propose to Bobbi in an unforgettable way. A gorgeous villa on a stunning beach with a thousand white calla lilies, a thousand candles and the beautiful strains of a violin. Plus a bucket of champagne and her favorite nama-cream cake.
That’s the least she deserves.
But I exit the car with the box in my pocket anyway, like it’s my manifestation ring. My hand closes over it like a talisman. Bobbi has a ring to help manifest her future, so why not me?
The late evening air feels cooler than usual. I stretch my neck left and right, trying to ease the tension.
When a woman says she wants to talk, it usually doesn’t have a happy ending. But Bobbi is different. We’re different. We have to be.
I start toward the house. Something white streaks across my path, and I jump back, adrenaline pumping.
“Jesus…” I squint. “Se?or Mittens?”
The cat hisses.
“Whoa, what’s the matter? You forgetting I’m the one who brings you caviar and cream?”
Se?or Mittens’s eyes narrow. If he could speak, he’d call me a dumbass.
“What’s the deal?”
The hair on his back rises, and he lets out another sharp hiss. The sound skitters like a viper, and all my senses bristle with warning.
My eyes dart toward the house. At the lights in the living room. Se?or Mittens shouldn’t be out and about, reacting to me like this.
Bobbi’s cat doesn’t normally go out of the house, not like this. Every time I snuck in to lavish luxurious meals on him, he’d stay put. And in the evenings he prefers to sit by the window and groom himself or curl up next to Bobbi, even while acting like it’s a torture to be close to a human.
Something is definitely off.
I glance at the house next to hers—Trey Underhill’s home. Empty driveway, and the lights are out, except for one in the back. I return to my car and grab some of my go-to tools. I’ve never been in the Boy Scouts, but I live by their motto: Be prepared.
This might be nothing. I could be making things worse. Se?or Mittens might’ve decided he hates me because Bobbi’s done with me. But every instinct screams danger.
I screw the suppressor on to my gun, then check to make sure it’s fully loaded and ready. Satisfied, I put on four-tube night vision goggles and slip into Bobbi’s laundry room through the secondary entrance in the back. Thankfully, the hinges remain quiet. My steps are silent and sure. Grunts and the sounds of fleshy impacts come from the living room. A chill ripples over me.
“Who’s the loser now, bitch?”
No, Bobbi!
I flip the main breaker and darkness swallows the house. A swift curse follows. I step out of the laundry room into the hallway.
Time slows as my heart thunders in my ears. A few more paces and I’m at the door to the living room. Trey and Bobbi are on the floor, blood on both their faces and clothes. He has a pistol with a silencer in his hand, wavering between Bobbi and the doorway I’m standing in.
“Give it up, Trey,” I say.
“Too late, hero!”
He swings the gun in her direction as a half-smile, half-grimace stretches his mouth. It’s the face of a man who knows he’s fucked and refuses to go down alone.
Boom, boom, boom, my heart beats like a war drum. “No!” Bobbi!
Suddenly Trey swivels back toward me. Bobbi was a feint! Twisting against the hallway wall to present a smaller target, I shoot.
There are twin poots from the pistols, and fire explodes in my ribs as I’m slammed against the wall. Trey drops with a muted thud, a hole smack between his eyebrows. The left side of my torso hurts like hell, but the pain is worth it.
Damn, I’m good, I think with a weird mixture of pride and dazedness.
Bobbi scrambles to her knees, then gets up.
“Noah?” Her voice is shaky.
“Right here, baby.” My response is light. She needs reassurance and confidence. The wound is tiny. Besides, it’s starting to hurt less. God bless the high pain threshold I got from Mom. “The fucker’s dead, so don’t worry,” I add since she can’t see what just happened.
“Are you okay?” Her question is more of a sob than spoken language. She’s blinking in the dark, trying to adjust her vision.
“Uh, yeah. Don’t move. Lemme get the light.” Pulling off the NVG, I drag myself to the laundry room and flip the main breaker back on. I blink at the blinding brightness, then look down and see the blood seeping out of the little wound in my chest, around my ribcage. It’s surprisingly warm and wet and smells like copper and rust.
I head back out to check on Bobbi. The NVG showed she was injured, but I didn’t really get a chance to see exactly how much she’s hurt and where.
She’s taken some damage. Her face is a mess. The blood under her nose and over her mouth is crusted, but nothing fresh is coming out. Her nose isn’t broken, thank God. At least four bruises to come, no black eye. Little cuts to her wrists and bruises there. There might be more under her clothes.
But what I can see so far stokes my rage. I shouldn’t have shot the motherfucker. That was too damn easy. I should’ve kept him alive so I could skin him. I might not be able to peel him like Mom could, but I could pour salt water over him during the process. That’s the least he deserved for what he did to Bobbi.
“Oh my God, you’re shot.” Tears fall from her eyes. She tries to reach for me, but pulls back, as though she’s scared to hurt me with her touch. Her entire body shakes as she places her hands over her mouth.
She’s worried. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Even if she was thinking about breaking up with me for good, this means she’s changing her mind…right?
“Let me find my phone,” she says, sniffling.
“Wait, don’t call 911.” I take out my phone and text “911 gf house” to Contact2608.
–Contact2608: Acknowledged. Wait 10.
I relax slightly. He’ll make sure everything’s taken care of and a proper story is crafted to explain the death of Trey Underhill to the authorities.
My knees feel a bit rubbery. I don’t think Trey’s bullet hit anything important even though it hurts to breathe, but the blood keeps flowing out. I lean against the wall and slide down, smearing it with my blood. Shit.
“Sorry about the mess.” I gesture at the red.
“Who cares about that?” Bobbi says furiously, then wipes away her tears. She puts pressure on the wound. “You’re bleeding so much.”
“It’s not that bad.” I grin at her, feeling slightly loopy now. When my body hits a certain level of pain, it generally makes me lightheaded…almost like I’m high.
“I can’t believe you showed up the way you did. I didn’t think I’d survive tonight without a miracle.”
I grip her hand. “I will always come for you. I’m your miracle, my light.”
She wipes her tears with the other hand. “How did you know I was in trouble? Trey said he texted you pretending to be me.”
“It was Se?or Mittens. He was hissing and acting weird. I figured something was up. Speaking of which, I need to figure out what to give him that’s better than caviar and cream. Maybe top them with gold flakes?”
She laughs a little, just like I want.
“You’ve given me a lot of firsts,” I say. Bobbi’s in a receptive mood, and I want to get it out.
“Are you trying to tell me you were a virgin when we first met?” she says, half-exasperated and half-unbelieving.
“Oh hell no. You wouldn’t have wanted to sleep with me a second time if I’d been a virgin.”
She chokes on a small laugh.
“Anyway, lemme talk… You’re my first love. The first person who made me glad to be born. The first to make me dream of a normal life. And this?” I point at my side. “First time getting shot.” I grin. That sounds impressive. She should be flattered.
She glares at me. If she were a meme, the caption would read: And should I be happy?
“I never caught a bullet for anyone. Never wanted to,” I add.
Her face scrunches. She presses her lips together hard, like she’s trying to contain a sob. Air shudders in and out, and she clenches and unclenches her hands. “You should’ve ducked,” she says finally.
“Then I would’ve missed, and he would’ve shot you next. We can’t have that.”
Silent tears pour down her cheeks. I swipe my thumbs over them.
“When I manifested the perfect man for me, taking a bullet for me was on the list…” Her breath hitches.
I grin. “So does that mean I’m your perfect man?”
“I didn’t want it to happen for real!”
“Come on. It isn’t that bad,” I say. “I have a very high pain tolerance. If I were a woman, I could pop a baby out without an epidural, no problem.”
She shakes her head, then lets out a teary laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“And crazy about you.” I hold her hand, threading our fingers. My head feels like a balloon full of helium, ready to fly high in the sky. “I love you, Bobbi Bright. You’re the light of my life. And that will never change, till death do us part and beyond.”
She runs a hand over her wet cheeks. “My God.”
“Not your God. Just me. Noah Lasker.” I kiss the crown of her head. “Now, tell me you love me, too.”
She barks out a laugh. “You can’t just demand—”
“You’re going to be sad if you let me die without telling me how you feel.”
“I thought you were going to survive this.” The fire in her eyes says if I don’t, she’ll never forgive me.
“Well…yeah. Of course. But just in case.”
“I’m not telling you anything until you’re fully recovered.”
“Is this your way of making sure I get better?”
“It is.” She presses her lips together, but they tremble anyway.
She couldn’t look more beautiful. And she’s mine. My woman. My life. My everything. I can take another bullet for her, although if I tell her that, she’ll probably kill me. “Fine, then. I’ll get better.”
It’s been almost ten minutes. Contact2608 is going to arrive any second. His team is always punctual. I exhale, then strip my face of all humor. “Hey. You gotta promise me something.”
“What?” she whispers.
“You can’t tell my brothers about this. Seriously. Like, never.”
“Of course not. I’ll never tell your secrets to anyone.”
“Thank you.” I give her an easy smile. “I don’t want to survive getting shot only to die of second-hand embarrassment as they fuss over me like a bunch of pussies.” My fingers brush over the bruises starting to form on her face. “And you promise to get better too, okay? See all the docs you need to see, patch up everything that needs patching up.”
She takes my hovering hand in hers. “Okay. I promise.”