“No,” she moans, clutching me. “Don’t let go, don’t let go,” she continues to moan.
“Never,” I promise in her ear, my heart crashing fiercely into my ribs. Never.
I need to protect her. I need to make it better. I need the poison out of her body if it’s the last fucking thing I do.
“According to Google, they’re Arizona bark scorpions. Venomous but not deadly,” Pete says as he searches his phone.
“Hang on to me,” I whisper to Brooke, and when her arms are tight around my neck, I lift her up and cross the room.
“Where the heck are you going with her, Tate?” Pete demands.
“To the fucking hospital, dipshit,” I growl, angrily heading toward the elevator. I’ll walk us to the hospital if I have to, but there’s a familiar buzzing in my body, and I’m starting to believe I might even fly us there.
Pete yells after me, “Dude, Diane just called the EMT. Let’s just take a fucking chill pill and give her some Benadryl.”
“You. Take a chill pill. Pete,” I snap back.
Fucking motherfucker.
Brooke is almost fucking convulsing in my arms. She can’t focus. She’s been stung by these asshole animals and I need her. To be. Tended.
“I’m awright,” she says as she blinks dazedly at me, “I’m awright, Wemy. . . .”
My body temperature plummets. I look at her, and she’s not only talking in a way that makes me want to kill something, but she’s staring at my fucking ear like it’s one of my eyes! “FUUUUUCK ME!”
The elevator doors roll open, and Riley steps off. “All right, what’s going on? Coach is waiting at the gym, Rem. . . .” He sees Brooke in my arms, and his eyes widen.
“Live scorpions,” Pete informs. “Venomous, but fortunately not deadly.”
“I can’t bweathe,” Brooke says, looking at my ear again, as if waiting for my ear to explain this shit to her.
I can’t fucking see anymore, my vision is blurred from my rage and impotence and I want to kill. Kill. KILL.
“The poison spreads through the nervous system, but it doesn’t enter the bloodstream. Try to stay calm, Brooke. These bark scorpions are nasty suckers. Can you feel your legs?” Pete asks.
She shakes her head as she wheezes out air, and Pete leans over to inspect the damage. “Let me see that. . . .” I extend out her arm so that he looks at the stings, and I look directly into Pete’s eyes, “I’m going to kill him,” I tell Pete.
“It’ll be all right, B,” Pete tells her, watching me warily and staring into my eyes with growing alarm as he adds, “I’ve had the experience once. Awful, but you really don’t die from a North American scorpion.”
“There’s a note! I turned the box over and there’s a note!” Diane cries.
“What does it say?” Pete walks back to the suite’s open door, grabs the note, and automatically reads. “ ‘You’ve kissed me. Now you’ve been kissed back by the Scorpion. How does it feel to have my venom in you?’ ”
My testosterone spikes. My heart jerks. My body tightens. Adrenaline shoots through my body and my mind snaps. My control, my fucking sanity. Snap! I’m going to kill Scorpion, and I want to dismember him before I do. Spreading his teeth across the floor. Pulling his brain out of his fucking head.
I’m fully engaged.
I’m going to dismember and get rid of the fucking threat. NOW!
Brooke moans softly, and I look down at her, pale, scared, and trembling, and my murderous determination grows tenfold at the thought of anyone, anyone, messing with my girl!
“Pete, I saw his goons downstairs in the lobby. I think he’s here at the hotel,” Riley says.
“The motherfucker is probably downstairs waiting for Remington,” Pete murmurs, rubbing a hand across his face.
“Oh, he has it coming!” I thunder. “He’s already dead!”
I’m going to make it slow. And painful. And I’m going to shove a burning firecracker up his fucking ass AND WATCH HIM EXPLODE!
Brooke. She’s trembling. She’s holding onto me, expecting me to protect her. He got to her in my fucking hotel suite! I will never fail to protect her again. Nothing will ever hurt her again. I am Remington Tate—Riptide—and I am HER MAN, HER PROTECTOR, and I am going to take care of this RIGHT. NOW.
Blood boiling, I’m touching the back of her head, and I look at her face, her glazed eyes and the tears on her skin, and I’ve never been more ready to commit murder, but I manage to speak softly when I tell her, “I need to do something right now. I love you. I fucking love you to pieces, and I’m going to come back and put you back together again, all right?”
She nods and trembles, and my gut is being cut on the inside, because I don’t want to leave her either, goddammit.
“Why is she shaking like this, goddammit?” I ask Pete as I carry her back to the room.
He looks at me apologetically. “It’s the nervous system being affected. She sustained several stings, so it’ll be painful. While the EMT is on his way, let’s give her some Tylenol.”
Tylenol, yes. Tylenol and murder. My body is so wired and I’m single-minded. I feel like a robot who’s just been programmed to kill, and the fact that he hurt my little firecracker was the trigger button.
Heart pounding, muscles tightening, system overworking, I carry her back to the room and set her on the sofa, inhaling the top of her head. Every minute that motherfucker enjoys life while Brooke has trouble breathing is penance. Every fucking bite I see on her skin screams at me to go hurt whoever hurt her.
That’s right. I’m Death. I am fucking Death and I’m coming for him now.