“You’re ruining everything,” the prince said.

Clearly he didn’t want me visiting, and I thought we were friends. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t go in there if Rocket’s information weren’t so invaluable.”

“You misunderstand his annoyance,” Donovan said.

“Our annoyance.” Mafioso seemed just as perturbed.

Donovan grinned. “They don’t want you to have a key, because watching you get on your stomach and crawl through that itty-bitty window is one of our favorite pastimes.” He held up a gloved thumb and index finger to emphasize the small size of the opening.

The prince smiled. “I especially like it when the window closes about halfway in and you get your ass stuck.”

He high-fived Mafioso.

“I’m completely appalled,” I said, completely appalled. “You guys have known all this time? You watch me?”

“Mostly just your ass,” the prince said with a wink. Charmer.

“What happened, sweetheart?”

I glanced back at Donovan, at the sympathetic gaze in his eyes, and it all came rushing back with hurricane force. A lump swelled in my throat, and my eyes blurred instantly with wetness. “I got one of my best friends killed.” A telling moisture pushed past my lashes as I studied Donovan. At least with a biker, you knew where you stood, which was usually ten feet away from his bike. There were no illusions that you would come first. No promises or guarantees or sweet nothings whispered in your ear.

My breath hitched in my chest, and he stepped within my reach.

So reach, I did.

I wound my fingers into his shirt and pulled him closer. I should have been thinking about how bad I looked. My face had nearly been sliced off, but all I wanted was the taste of him on my tongue. I eased over and pressed my mouth to his. He leaned forward and let me kiss him. The kiss was gentle and patient and a little hungry.

I led my hand inside his jacket and pulled him closer. He deepened the kiss, just barely, trying desperately not to hurt me.

“Is this for me, Dutch?” Reyes growled—so close, I could feel the heat layer over me like a warmed blanket. I offered him a mental f**k you, and he disappeared. But the pain that exuded out of him just before he did so stole my breath and I gasped.

Donovan broke the kiss instantly.

When I raised my lashes, the prince had his hand on Donovan’s shoulder, as if coaxing him to stop. Donovan nodded in acknowledgment, and the prince dropped his hand.

“Sweetheart,” Donovan said, appreciation glittering in his eyes, “I don’t know where to touch you without hurting you, and the last thing you need right now is to be hurt.” He brushed his fingertips along my good cheek. “But I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t tempted beyond comprehension.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” I said, suddenly embarrassed. The little girl sat wide eyed, the NC-17 rating way above her pay grade. I was seriously going to have to get rid of her.

With the help of his two bodyguards, Donovan lifted me into his arms.

“What are your names?” I asked Mafioso and the prince as they carried me to my bed, which made no sense, since all my bedding was on the sofa. But they threw a couple of blankets down, moved my supplies to my nightstand, and called it good.

The prince spoke up first. “I’m Eric,” he said, offering another wink. “And the ape at your feet is Michael.”

“Ape, huh?” Michael asked. “That’s the best you can do?”

I had to admit, Michael exuded a Brando-esque kind of coolness that I’d have bet my sutures made him quite the chick magnet.

Prince Eric laughed. “I’m working with a limited education here.”

“It shows.”

Once they had me all tucked in and Eric and Michael had stepped out of the room, Donovan kneeled down beside me. “I’m Donovan.”

I smiled even though it hurt. “I know.”

“I like you.”

I placed a hand on my chest as though I were insulted. “Last I heard, you were f**king in love with me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s how rumors get started,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “Nobody wants a fool in love for a leader. There’ll be rebellion, chaos, matching biker-gang shirts.” He kissed the back of my hand. “Get some rest.”

He’d barely left before the pain set in again, the emptiness and betrayal swirling inside me. Reyes could bite my ass. My dad could bite my ass. Uncle Bob could … Well, no, I still liked Uncle Bob. I was in serious wallow mode when my lids drifted shut again. Depression really did make a person want to sleep all the time. Who knew?

27

Sorry about what happens later.

—T-SHIRT

Right in the middle of an unsettling scene where a girl with an eye patch kept trying to convince me I owed her twelve dollars for picking up my teeth off the sidewalk and putting them in a Dixie cup, I heard another voice. One so familiar, so close to my heart, it swelled in response.

“You gonna sleep all day?”

I rushed toward consciousness and threw an arm over my eyes in protest. Maybe this time it would work. Maybe this time it would block out reality and I wouldn’t have to face it, ’cause reality was sucking of late.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

After a long exhalation, I opened my eyes. Or, well, one eye. One was superglued shut again. I started to rub it, but I forgot and tried to use my left arm. A scalding pain shot up the underside of it. Clearly, pain meds were overrated. But my fingers were moving better. Grim reaperism definitely had its advantages.