“I haven’t, but um, Tristan has expressed an interest in doing it tonight.”
“Go for it. He’ll get you off so many times before that you’ll barely notice where he’s shoving his big dick.”
“You say that like you have experience,” I remark.
“Well, he did have me in the stocks, at his mercy for hours. Not that I had any complaints.”
“I hate that you’ve been with him,” I admit with a heavy sigh.
“No kidding. The feeling is mutual.”
I abruptly sit down at that admission, only to squeal and pop right back up.
“Everything okay?” Natalie asks with a furrowed brow.
“As if you give a shit.”
“Sore? I remember that too.”
Shaking my head to ward off thoughts of Tristan and Natalie, I check the time on my phone and then grab my purse andbriefcase. For once, I’m leaving early. I really should go make sure Tristan doesn’t kill Bryan on the way out of the courthouse.
“I’m headed out for the day,” I tell Natalie. “Call my cell if anything urgent comes up?”
“Sure. See you tomorrow.”
“See you then.” I rush out. Or I walk as fast I can with the plug. It’s funny that Tristan made all sorts of comments about me having a stick up my ass when he’s the one who likes putting things up there.
When I exit outside, I find the two men talking. Surprisingly enough, Tristan doesn’t look too murderous.
“What are you two still talking about?” I ask as I stride toward them. From the corner of my eye, I notice a car slowly rolling through the mostly empty street.
When he turns and sees me, Tristan’s eyes widen. “You’re leaving early today?”
“Yes. You’re a bad influence,” I say as he walks toward me as if he’s too impatient to wait for me to reach him.
“Get down!” Bryan yells.
Before his words even register, Tristan tackles me to the ground. It’s like déjà vu as thepop-pop-popechoes around us. Unlike before in the alley, there’s shot after shot being fired before tires squeal.
Shit! It must have been that creeping car.
“Are you okay?” Tristan asks from above me.
I nod and wince at the sudden splitting headache. He swears and reaches for the back of my head, his fingers come away red. “You’re bleeding. Dammit, I let you hit your head.”
“It’s nothing. At least I didn’t get shot.” I try to lighten the mood.
“Backup is on the way, along with ambulances,” Bryan declares before he kneels down next to us with his gun in his hand. “How many times were you hit?”
“None. I’m fine,” I tell him. I try to push Tristan off before anyone I work with sees him on top of me. He finally sits up on his knees and winces.
“There’s at least two entry wounds,” Bryan remarks as he looks at…Tristan.
I scramble to look at his back. “Oh, my god.” Two wounds pour blood down his jacket — one near his shoulder blade and the other on the tricep of his right arm. “We need to stop the bleeding until the ambulance gets here. You said it’s coming, right?” I ask Bryan as I press my palms to the holes.
He nods. “No exit wounds, which means they’ll have to dig out the bullets.”
“How convenient you were standing there with us and came away unscathed,” Tristan remarks as he braces a hand on the ground to try to get up.
