Chapter 25
Vincent da Silva
Dash’s home was situated near the rear of an eighteen-acre plot, surrounded by trees that had a long, narrow drive through low hanging branches.
When he first bought the property, it had been a small, two bedroom, one thousand square foot trailer.
Over the years, with the help of some of the Serpents, he’d added onto the structure, bricking it in, until it was now four bedrooms, two baths, and almost twenty-five hundred square feet.
Driving the car as slowly as possible to avoid rocking the vehicle, I held my breath the entire way, only exhaling when the woods opened to the section for the house.
A porch expanding the entire front, I grimaced at the four steep steps he would have to climb.
Funny how everyday things seemed mundane.
Now that he was hurt, I was seeing so many things that would hinder his movements.
I cast a sideways glance his way and frowned. He was slumped against the door, passed out, his jaw gaping with a trace of drool. The moment I wheeled him out of the hospital and put him in the car, he was popping muscle relaxers to stave off the pain.
Following the worn, dirt path to the side of the house, I pulled into the carport, parked, and cut off the engine.
Removing my seatbelt, I shifted my weight, reached over the console, and leaned into him to unhook his.
My heart rate increased at his nearness, my breaths shallowing as I studied his features.
My stomach knotting, I gently stroked my thumb over his bottom lip to wipe away the spittle before dipping low and stealing a kiss.
Dash snorted, jerked, and swung, punching me right in the fucking eye.
“Ah, shit!” I shouted, falling back to my ass in my own seat, grimacing at the agony ripping through my ribs. The socket stinging, I covered it and glared. “What the fuck was that for?”
He blinked rapidly, his arms spread wide, a palm on the console, the other on the window. Almost hyperventilating, he was looking around with a sense of bewilderment. “What the hell is going on?”
“You fucking punched me in the face, you cocksucker.”
Squinting, he pulled a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled, his cheeks puffing out. His frame slumping, he closed his eyes and rested his head to the back of the seat. “Yeah, well, rumors have it I’m pretty goddamn good at it.”
Not catching on right away, when the weight of his words finally registered, I threw my head back and bellowed with laughter, but it caused discomfort, so it ended with a hiss through my teeth. “The best.”
He smiled, his eyes still closed. “Yeah, just you wait until I ain’t Swiss cheese no more. I’ll show you what the fuck good is,” he stated and tugged at the seam of his jeans.
Glancing down, excitement hit my system at the slight bulge. My arm draping over the steering wheel, my head tipped, a brow lifting. “So, you like it rough, huh?”
He frowned and lifted one lid to peer. “Huh?”
“I kiss you in your sleep, you get hard, wake up, and punch me.”
The smile spread again, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Dude, I ain’t in the right frame of mind to be sneaking up on me like that. You got what you deserved.”
My humor drained slowly, a constriction squeezing my throat.
That nagging voice of reasoning was whispering in my ear.
Dash was not in the right frame of mind.
Not for regular life and definitely not to start an intimate relationship that completely took him out of his comfort zone.
If I were a woman, sure, maybe I could see it working.
Being a man, the likeliness of anything substantial happening was slim to none. I was setting myself up for heartache.
Clearing my throat, I got out the car, rounded the hood, and cautiously opened his, holding my free arm out in case he lost his balance.
“Ready?” I grumbled, my mood sinking into darkness.
This was exactly how I always felt with Billy.
The feelings were there but so was the grief since I knew I was in a dead-end situation.
And yet, just like with Billy, as I helped Dash to his feet, his hard body against my chest and my arms around him, I knew I was helpless to do the right thing and walk away.
His brows furrowed, his arm hooked behind my neck. Holding his torso, he jutted his chin. “You okay? What’s up?”
I shook my head and avoided his gaze. “Mm hm. Ready?”
“Yeah,” he said, dragging the word out with suspicion.
I cleared my throat, keeping my sight away from his. Bumping the door closed with my hip, we slowly hobbled around the side of the house, along the paved path, to the front porch. “Slow, slow,” I urged when he grimaced at the first step.
“Ah, shit. Hang on. Just…” He exhaled through pursed lips, his cheeks puffing again. Already coated in sweat, his eyes were turning bloodshot, his complexion almost maroon.
Concern chewing my gut, I coaxed him to lean into one of the columns.
When he was steady, I shrugged out of his arm and went to the front door.
Pulling open the glass partition, I locked it in place, flipped through his keys, and unlocked the front door.
Quickly pocketing them, I strode back to Dash.
“How much you weigh?”
His chin tucking toward a shoulder, he snorted. “What?”
I circled my wrist, my index twirling. “What? One eighty?”
“I mean, I ain’t exactly been able to do much working out while we was in Georgia, so it ain’t exactly my fault I gained weight—”
“Dash,” I huffed, my hands on my sides. For a straight man, he certainly was acting a bit diva-ish right now. “Answer the damn question.”
“Yeah, about one eighty-five. Why?”
“Cuz I bench three ten,” I grumbled, stepped closer, and carefully swept him into my arms. Some of the absolute worst pain ever exploded in my chest, jagged edged bones piercing the sides of my lungs. Crying out in pain, my knees nearly buckled, sweat instantly dripping from my face.
“What the fuck?” he shouted, his voice echoing across the yard. Instinctively clutching my neck, his other hand lashed out, grabbing the column. Gawking, he was ghostly white, eyes bulging as he stared in astonishment.
I chuckled and grunted, having never picked up a full-grown man before. Though he wasn’t as heavy as the weights I lifted, he wasn’t weights. It was much more difficult lifting an actual man, especially in the condition my body was in. Panting, my muscles straining, I wheezed, “Wanna let go?”
He gulped, his Adam’s apple lurching. Peeling his nails from the wooden beam, his arm slid over his stomach, muscles in his face twitching to hide the grimace of pain.
Huffing and puffing, I sidestepped through the door but still managed to bump his shoulder on the frame. He hissed, pain twisting his features.
“Sorry, baby,” I whispered with a pout.
“Fuck.”
I hurried down the hallway, turning right into the other one at the living room’s edge. Going to the end, I kicked open the master suite’s door and stumbled in, practically spilling him onto the bed.
“Mother…fucker!” he bellowed, curling on his side, his sweaty face in the pillow.
“Oh, shit, Dash. Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.” I crouched, ignoring my own aches, and hesitantly rubbed his back.
“Don’t. Ow, don’t…fucking touch me right now.”
Guilt sinking my stomach, I cursed, bounded to my full height, and stomped back to the front door, closing everything up.
Before returning to him, I went to the kitchen, hoping there was still something cold to drink in the fridge.
It had been a month since he’d been here, all the food was more than likely spoiled, but beer should still be good.
Snagging one, I slammed it closed and rushed for the bedroom, trying to figure out how to move without disturbing the broken bones.
By the time I returned, he had managed to roll to his back and prop himself on the pillows against the headboard.
My features scrunched, I cracked the lid and handed it over.
He was scowling through thinned lids, hastily taking it.
“Sorry. I thought it would be better.”
“Really? What do you think now?”
Irritated with his attitude, I crossed my arms and widened my stance. “I think had I not done that, your crippled ass would still be on the front porch. You do realize I’m still healing, too, right? Still got some cracked ribs, but I did that to help your ass.”
He huffed and looked away, taking a swig from the can. “Thank you,” he grumbled, resting it on the center of his chest.
“That’s more like it.” I tossed his keys to the nightstand and huffed, crossing my arms. Looking around the room, I frowned, having no fucking clue what to do now.
“Vin?”
“Hm?” I grumbled, focusing on the wedding photo of him and Mary over the tall dresser. It was then I realized Dash no longer wore his wedding ring. In fact, I couldn’t recall seeing it the whole time we were in Georgia. Had he taken it off the moment her dead body hit the floor?
“Can I see it?”
My eyelids rounded, my stomach fell, and my heart skipped a beat. Very slowly turning my focus back to his, my breathing shallowed as lust heated my veins. “Dash, I don’t think—”
His profile to me, he cleared his throat and inhaled deeply from his nose. “Please?”
A knot forming in my throat, I licked my lips nervously when he tipped his head and peered at me.
Losing myself in his stare, I leisurely pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on his legs.
His brows lifted, his sight raking over my torso with a sense of sadness.
When I tugged at my belt buckle, he squinted.
“What are you doing?”
I stilled, the belt out of its loop and pulled to the side. My stomach shaking, I muttered, “You wanted to see it?”
His eyes lit up and he burst out laughing and grunting. “I was talking about the gunshot wound.”
Humiliation burned me from the inside out. Cursing under my breath, I shrunk inwardly, wishing I could disappear. Quickly relooping the belt and pushing it through, I grumbled, “Son of a bitch. Such a fucking idiot—”