One Night of Sin

The black dots in front of his face got worse, an undulating sea of darkness beckoning at him. “One more thing.”

“Demanding bastard tonight, aren’t ya? What is it?”

They were in motion now, Gage’s bulk supported by Jerry and Reed as they carried him out of the alley. He had the vague impression of the sidewalk beneath his feet, but couldn’t seem to make his eyes focus.

“Skyler…” He swallowed, wincing from the taste of blood coating his throat. “Don’t call her…don’t…she can’t know…promise.”

“Goddamn it, Gage—”

“Promise.”

There was a pause, then Reed’s unhappy voice. “I promise.”

Gage nodded gratefully.

And passed the f**k out.

…

If it were anyone else calling, Skyler probably would have slept through the ringing of her phone, but she’d programmed a personal ringtone for Gage, and somehow her subconscious knew it. Her eyes snapped open and sought out the bedside clock. When she realized it was four in the morning, instant concern swept through her. She knew Gage wouldn’t call so late if it weren’t important.

She picked up immediately—and was startled when a voice that didn’t belong to Gage filled her ear.

“Skyler? It’s Reed.”

Her stomach clenched. Oh God. Something must be seriously wrong if Gage’s best friend was on the line.

“What happened?” she blurted out. “Is he okay?” The slight hesitation on the other end sent her heart rate into overtime. “Reed. Tell me what happened.”

“O’Donnell’s crew roughed him up.”

She swallowed a cold rush of fear. “How bad?”

“Bad. And the muleheaded mofo refused to go to the hospital, so I took him home. Can you—”

“I’m on my way.”

She hung up without another word and proceeded to dress in a panicky whirlwind, throwing on the first items of clothing she found. Then she flew down the stairs toward Lacey’s room, only to halt in her tracks when she remembered that her friend was at the hospital. Damn it. Lacey was a doctor—Skyler would have felt a million times better if her friend had been able to check on Gage with her.

How badly was he hurt? Why hadn’t he called her himself? Terrified thoughts buzzed through her mind as she slid into her car. Since it was so late, there was zero traffic on the road, but she forced herself not to drive double the speed limit. She couldn’t afford to get pulled over by a cop right now.

Panic and worry sizzled in her veins the entire way to Gage’s house. When she got there, all the lights were on, and Reed met her at the front door, his blue eyes grim.

“He’s in the living room.”

She was already pushing past him. She didn’t take off her shoes, just careened into the living room. Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach when she saw Gage.

He was on the couch, flat on his back with his eyes closed. Well, with one eye closed—the other was swollen shut, black and purple and twice its normal size. Her breathing grew shallow as she examined the rest of him. A cut on his eyebrow, held together by a row of narrow butterfly stitches. More bluish bruises on his bare chest, white tape wrapped tightly around his torso. His hands were at his sides, and from where she stood, she noticed his knuckles were red and caked with blood.

Reed’s voice drifted in from the doorway. “We cleaned him up, taped up his ribs, and shoved some aspirin down his throat.”

Skyler sat next to Gage and gently touched the cheek that wasn’t bruised. He didn’t stir, massive chest rising and falling with each steady inhale and exhale.

“He was probably right about the hospital,” Reed added, albeit grudgingly. “The doctors wouldn’t have done much more than Jerry and I did. None of the cuts are deep enough for stitches, and there’s nothing they can do for his ribs.”

Skyler swallowed, then shifted her gaze to Reed. Another man stood next to him. Their employee Jerry, she assumed. “You guys can go,” she said softly. “I’ll stay here with him.”

Reed’s forehead creased. “You sure?”

She nodded. “Go. We both know he wouldn’t like having all of us fussing over him. It’ll just make him grumpy.”

Reed’s lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “You’re right about that.” He walked over and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “Good luck with our patient. Though I have a feeling he’ll be grumpy regardless.”

Yeah, so did she, but there was no way in hell she was going anywhere.

She moved her attention back to Gage, effectively dismissing the other men. She heard their footsteps in the hall, the creak of the front door closing, but her focus remained on Gage. She squeezed his hand, then dipped her head and pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss. He still didn’t stir, and she didn’t try to rouse him. He needed to rest right now.

But there was no rest for Skyler. She stretched out beside him, keeping an inch of space between them as she settled on her side and watched him breathe. Tears stung her eyes when she started cataloging all his cuts and bruises again.

Gage had been so certain Mitch O’Donnell had accepted that their arrangement was over, but obviously he’d been wrong. So f**king wrong. O’Donnell had gone out and punished him for not toeing the line, and Skyler fought the urge to track that bastard down and strangle the life out of him.

As she mentally plotted O’Donnell’s demise, an uneasy thought occurred to her. Clay could help.