Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) (22 page)

“No!” I yell, fighting the gauze between the worlds.
 
“I’m not dead!
 
I’m not dead!
 
I’m not dead yet, fuckers!
 
I’m not going!
 
I’m not ready!
 
I’m too young! I haven’t even tried anal sex yet!”

Strong hands grab my wrists and hold me still.

Do angels wrestle?
 
Am I about to be part of an otherworldly smack-down?

“Quin, relax.
 
You’re not dead.
 
You’re just stupid.”

I freeze, no longer fighting the archangel Gabriel or whoever it is that has me in an iron grip.

Recognition dawns.
 
“Who’s that?
 
Teagan?”

“Open your eyes, dipshit.”
 
She’s laughing at me, I can tell by her tone.

“They are open,” I say, squeezing my eyes tight together.
 
“Oh.” My lids are already together.

I use my fingers to pry them open.
 
Bright light hits my eyeballs and I squint to try and see through the haze.
 
I guess it wasn’t a sheet there.
 
Heh-heh.
 
Did I say anal sex or was that just a bad dream?

“Where am I?” I finally ask.

“You’re in the hospital,” Teagan says.
 
She leans over so I can finally see her face.
 
She’s smiling.

“Stop doing that,”
 
I say, frowning.
 
“I almost died.”
 
I’m pretty sure that’s the truth, too.
 
I feel pain everywhere.

“No, you didn’t,” she says, practically laughing.
 
“Now, Mick … yes, he almost bit the big one.”

My hands grab my covers in an attempt to throw them to the side.
 
The pain in my chest stops me.
 
“Oh, shit,” I say, breathing heavily through the agony.
 
“He shot me, didn’t he?
 
That cop.
 
Do I have a hideous scar?
 
Do I need a heart transplant?”
 
I’m afraid to look down.
 
“How long have I been out?
 
Has it been days? Weeks?”
 
I cringe as I wait for the answer.
 
Maybe I’ve been here a year in a coma.
 
I reach up to touch my hair and then my eyebrows.
 
“How bad is it?”

Tegan is laughing too hard to answer me.
 
She snorts like a pig, and unfortunately she’s sitting too far back for me to slap now.

Rebel comes into view from behind a curtain.
 
“She okay?” he asks her.

“I’m fine, other than the fact that I almost died of a gunshot wound to the chest.
 
I’m suing, you know.
 
You can count on that.”

Rebel has the nerve to laugh.
 
Two chuckles and he’s gone behind the curtain again.

“I’d really like to know what’s so funny about me being shot.
 
I mean, what the fuck?
 
Am I being punked right now or what? And where are my parents?
 
Please tell me you told them what happened. They must be worried sick.”

Teagan takes me by the hand.
 
“They know. They were already here and then they left.”
 
She hands me her phone.
 
“Call them and talk to them if you want.”

I snatch the phone away. “Not before you explain what the hell happened after I was shot.
 
In the chest.
 
With a gun.
 
And a bullet. Where’s Mick?
 
Is he okay?
 
What was wrong with him?”

Teagan pulls the chair closer and takes my hand slowly petting it.
 
“Babe, I hate to burst your superhero bubble, but you weren’t shot.”

“Bullshit,” I say, struggling with my hospital gown.
 
Some idiot put the damn thing on backwards.
 
I can feel it’s open in the back but I can’t see my chest because the material is in the way.

Teagan takes my hand and stills it.
 
“You were tazed, babe.
 
Tazed in the chest.
 
With a taser.”

I stop trying to yank my hand away.
 
“Tazed?”
 
That sounds a lot less sexy than being shot with a gun.

“Yes. You got a couple prongs embedded in your skin and about a thousand volts sent through your body, but that’s it.
 
No bullets.
 
No blood.
 
You’re going to live.”
 
She tries to hold in a snort and ends up burping instead.

“That was nice.
 
Thanks for that.”
 
I flick imaginary burp shrapnel off my cheek.

“You’re welcome.
 
Mick’s fine too.
 
He had a ruptured spleen from the fight.
 
They took it out and sewed him up.”

“Can I see him?” I ask, my voice going weak.

“I don’t know…” Teagan sighs.
 
“Are you sure you want to?”

“Of course I’m sure.
 
Don’t be ridiculous.”
 
Now she’s got me all pissed off again.
 
“Why would you say that?”

“Because … I guess Rebel and I were thinking that maybe you had something going on with Colin and maybe you don’t want to rock that boat.”

“Jesus, Tea, sometimes you make me want to rip your head off with my teeth.”

“Really?
 
That’s kind of violent.”
 
She doesn’t appear scared.

“Do you not know me at all?
 
I mean, can’t you tell?
 
I don’t like Colin like that.
 
He’s like … a brother.”

“A brother.”
 
She clearly doesn’t believe me.

“Yes. A brother.
 
Okay, so he’s good looking and charming and talented.
 
But he’s not Mick.”

Her eyebrows go up.
 
“He’s not?”

“No.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?
 
Not being Mick …
 
That doesn’t make sense.”

I realize I’ve said too much.
 
I’m not even sure it makes sense to me, so I don’t know how to explain it to her.
 
“I don’t know.
 
Whatever.
 
Forget I said it.”

“No way, Q-Baby.
 
Tell me what’s going on.
 
Come on, I know you’re stressed about your brother and all that.
 
We need to talk.”

“You have enough on your plate,” I say, refusing to give in to her puppy dog face.
 
“What’s going on with your case?
 
Anything new?”

“I did get a call from the lawyer today which is a super big deal since it’s the weekend, but I’m not sharing until you share first.”

I’ve seen that expression on her face before.
 
She can be very determined when she wants to be, just like me.
 
I taught her well.
 
And to be honest with myself, I’m getting tired of being so confused about my own feelings. Talking to her usually helps me sort them out, so I go ahead and cave without a fight.

“Mick is different.
 
I don’t know how else to say it.”
 
I toy with the edge of my sheets to hide my nervousness.
 
Even just talking about it makes me go all frizzy fuzzy whacky inside. “I hardly know him, so it sounds ridiculous, but he just has something special about him.
 
A confidence.
 
An air of class, even though he’s standing there in a t-shirt and jeans and has grease under his fingernails.
 
I like him, even though I don’t want to like him and even though I think liking him is a really dumb idea.”

She nods sagely.
 
“I know what you mean.”

“Right?” I lower my voice, eyeing the curtain that closes me off from the door to the room.
 
“I mean, what’s with these Rebel Wheels guys, anyway?
 
Do they have superpowers?”

She smiles.
 
“Maybe.
 
So what are you going to do about it?”

“About what?”

“Mick.”

I roll my eyes.
 
“Nothing.”
 
I’m all of a sudden depressed.
 
Welcome back to the real world.

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“
Nothing
is what I mean.
 
I’m doing nothing.
 
Nada.
 
Zip.
 
Look what’s already happened!
 
I agree to go out on
one
date and now we’re both in the hospital and his brother’s probably on his way to jail again and my parents are going to freak like nobody’s business.
 
My life is over.
 
I might as well become a nun.
 
Do they still have those? Where do I sign up?”

“First of all, Colin is not going to jail.
 
Mick told them some stranger punched him. And second, your parents are a little freaked out, but I explained that you were rushing your date to the hospital and that the cop misunderstood, and they got it.
 
Okay?
 
They’re on board.
 
The cop told them the same story, so you’re good.”

“That’s a pretty cool cop.”
 
I frown, not sure I believe my good fortune. “I’m not under arrest when I leave?”

“No, you’re not.
 
He knows Rebel and Mick and Colin too.
 
His name is Dickerson.”

I’m still frowning, my memory conjuring images of his car’s grill almost on our ass.
 
“More like Dickweederson,” I say, pissed he got the drop on me.
 
Who shoots a girl in bedazzled shorts and heels who’s yelling
Emergency!
?
 
He should at least be demoted or something.

“Seriously.”

I smile at Teagan’s easy agreement. “Are we good?” I ask, holding up my hand.

She weaves her fingers in with mine.
 
“Yeah, we’re good.
 
Always.”

“So what’s next?” I ask.
 
“When can I leave?”

“Maybe later today.”

“What’s the date?” I ask, looking towards the window to try and gauge the time of day.
 
It’s covered in heavy drapes, making it impossible to see anything outside.

“It’s Saturday.”
 
She looks at her phone, turning it in my hand so she can see the front of it
 
“Ten o’clock in the morning. You’ve only been here overnight.”

“And Mick?
 
Is he okay, really?”

“Yes, he’s really okay.
 
He’s out of surgery and everything is fine.
 
He’ll go home in a couple days.”

“I hope he has insurance,” I mumble, feeling responsible for his injuries.

“He does, thanks to me.
 
I set it up two weeks ago, thank God.
 
His kicked in before mine since he’s been there forever.”
 
She pats me on the hand.
 
“Do you want to see Mick, now?”

“Will they let me?” I ask, sitting up a little.
 
I can feel my hair plastered to the back of my head.
 
I wonder if I’ll have time to buff up my look before I see him.

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” she says, smiling all evil-like.

I frown at her.
 
“I suddenly don’t trust you for some reason.”

An angelic look takes over.
 
“I can’t imagine why not.”
 
She gets up from the side of my bed and pushes the curtain next to me all the way to the wall.
 
Looking over at the bed next to me, she says, “Yo, home boy.
 
Wake up.
 
Quin says she wants to visit.”

My jaw drops open as I take in the patient under the sheets not five feet away from my left arm.

Mick’s lids are closed, but I swear I can see his eyeballs jiggling underneath.

You are so going to fucking die,
I say silently to Teagan.

She wiggles her fingers at me and grins broadly.
 
“Toodle-oo!
 
Your parents should be back in about an hour.
 
They went to get Jersey from Saturday school so he could visit before lunch.
 
Have fun, kids.”

She and Rebel leave me in the room alone with Mick.

He opens his eyes and stares at me as the door shuts behind them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MY HEART IS BEATING SO hard it feels like it’s ready to leap out of my chest.
 
Thank goodness I don’t have one of those bleeping monitors attached to me.
 
Mick does, so I can tell he’s not as nervous as I am.

“Hi,” I say, more eloquent words failing me at the moment.

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”
 
I want to touch my hair again to try and gauge how awful it is, but I don’t dare call his attention to it.
 
Instead, I take a piece of my sheet and start folding it into a tiny accordion.
 
Keeping my fingers busy takes my mind off the mess I’ve made of my life recently.

“Lighter,” he says.

I pause in my folding and look over at him. “You feel lighter?”

“Yeah.
 
Seems like I left an organ behind in the operating room.”

I smile a little.
 
He’s making jokes.
 
That has to be a good sign, right?

“Does it hurt?” I ask.
 
Guilt.
 
Oh, the guilt!