Pursue (Portland Street Kings Book 3) Read Free Page A

bitchy tone annoys even me, so I can only imagine how much Dom must hate me right now.  
    I stalk off before seeing his face or letting him get a word in.  
    When walking through the electronic doors, the cool air-conditioned air hits me, and I head straight for the water fridge. As if holding a heavy boulder from falling, I fight with my own body not to look out at Dom and see what I left behind—pain etched upon his face or maybe frustration quickly turning to annoyance where soon he’ll drive off and leave me behind. Given his ability to deceive so well, option two is more likely.  
    Choosing the cheapest bottle of water, I grab it out of the fridge and place it on the counter. I rub the drink's condensation from my hand onto my jeans before opening my bag and pulling out some change.  
    A uniformed woman in a blue-collared shirt stops loading the hotbox beside the counter and takes my cash. No words are exchanged. She takes my money and gives me my change, and I’m both desperate to get out of the store and wondering where my "Hello" or "Have a good day" is. Customer service is obviously something she gave up on a long time ago.  
    Grabbing my water, I turn to leave and then freeze when I realize I need to pee. I can hold it. Looking down at my bottle of water, which I haven’t even had a sip out of yet, I decide I should go now while I can pee in a toilet and not kill a poor plant by the side of the highway.  
    Turning, I ask, “Do you have a public toilet?”  
    The woman, who's returned to placing food into the hotbox, doesn’t even look up when she answers gruffly, “Outside, left side of the building.”  
    Telling myself to be just as rude as she is, I decide not to thank her; however, within three steps to the door, I’m thanking her over my shoulder. It appears becoming a nasty bitch is going to take some time to master.  
    As if a reminder, my wrist and arm begin to thump in pain, so I exit the store quickly, not watching where I’m going. I bump into a large, warm body. Swiftly, my head rises to apologize, but then as if fate is laughing at me, I find it’s only Dom.  
    “Jesus, watch where you’re going, Dom,” I snap.  
    Dom presses his lips together tightly, and a tic appears in his jaw. His large hands that caught my hips slide off my body, and as if we’ve stepped into a slow motion movie, the agonizing seconds of his skin touching even only my clothing, sears a tattoo into my flesh. Internally groaning, I hastily get myself to the ladies’ room.  
    When I’m done emptying my bladder and taking my pain medication, I check myself out in the mirror.  
    I sigh. My blonde hair appears ratty and oily. Dark circles are starting to appear under my eyes, and my cast seems to be getting heavier each day that passes. I’m not only flesh and bone anymore. Now I’m also metal and screws.  
    Shivering with disgust, I look forward to the hotel tonight and a nice warm shower. I haven’t been able to wash properly nor have I been competent to do it alone without a nurse's assistance. I now know how to protect my cast in a plastic bag to ensure it survives a shower, though, and I can't wait. Since Rex kidnapped me and decided a mind fuck was a better punishment for me than death, the face staring back at me is who I've become. Staring back at my reflection, I’m not sure who that woman is who just thought that. I should be thankful Rex came to his senses seconds before I would have died. A lone tear tracks down my face, and I walk to the paper towel dispenser to wipe aside any traces of grief or memories from those horrifying moments.  
    One second I’m throwing the paper away and the next, I’m suddenly pulled against a body, a rough hand slapped over my mouth. Dread courses through my blood and for mere seconds, I freeze, not able to move or think.  
    “Shhh,” he says in a low, deep tone. It reverberates through my body like an unexpected wave hitting me from behind and is followed