Three Hours (Seven Series Book 5)

“Naya, you haven’t eaten all day,” Lexi scolded. “Try some of my mom’s coleslaw.”

 

 

“I think I’m going to go lie down. I didn’t get enough rest last night after everything, and the nap earlier wasn’t enough. You go on and enjoy that dish. If you peek in the fridge, you’ll find a dessert I whipped up for later.”

 

“Oh my God,” she said with a mouthful of spaghetti. “Is it that green stuff? That’s the best dessert. No one better touch it until I have some.”

 

I smiled and waved good night.

 

As soon as I reached my room, I kicked off my shoes and tried to ignore the sensation of feeling like a caged animal. I needed to get Misha back, but in my heart, I didn’t know if it was too late. A man like Delgado taking care of a cat? I couldn’t imagine it, but I also didn’t want to imagine what he’d done with her. The only way to keep from crying was to focus on Lola. She needed her mother, and I was going to make that happen. This nightmare had to end. The world is filled with unimaginable evils, but the worst act of evil is turning a blind eye.

 

I turned the dimmers on above the bed and crawled over the blanket. While the main room was shaped like a rectangle, they had extended the wall using the exact dimensions of the bed, so the only way to get in was to climb onto it from the foot. The lamps in the room were off, immersing the room in darkness. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to allow the dim lights to lull me to sleep.

 

No matter how many times I pounded on my pillow, I couldn’t settle my nerves. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at the built-in shelf on the headboard. Someone had filled it with a large selection of romance novels—some of which had significant wear on the spine. Probably April’s collection, which I found amusing since she didn’t go through heat. My guess was that she and Reno used this room as a private getaway.

 

A knock sounded at the door. I shivered when the air-conditioning came on and a cold breath of air skated over my arms. Across the room, I heard the squeaky hinge from a door opening, but I couldn’t see anything since the only lights on were the dimmers in my cubbyhole.

 

“It’s a little early for beddy-bye, isn’t it?” I heard Wheeler ask.

 

“I’m surprised you aren’t hunched over in agony from a spaghetti overdose,” I said with a snort.

 

“I’m still hungry.”

 

A shiver rolled over me, and when he moved into sight, I flew up and gripped the covers. “I thought you left.”

 

Ben smiled and tucked his hands in his pockets. “I had a little time to kill. So how about that drink? They keep it well stocked in here. Whiskey, vodka, even wine coolers. Maybe fried chicken wasn’t what you needed.”

 

“Ben, get out.”

 

“Whoa,” he said, holding up his hands. “Let’s not get confused as to what’s going on here.”

 

I flipped my hair back. “I’m in bed, and you’re uninvited. Which part do you think I’m confused about?”

 

“I’m just offering a drink to take the edge off. Maybe another time. Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”

 

The door suddenly opened and my chest constricted. If it was Reno coming with news on the trace, this was about to get awkward.

 

“And the plot thickens,” a voice said with disdain.

 

Even worse, it was Wheeler.

 

Ben turned around. “Just on my way out. Did you want to tag-team or something?” When he vanished into the darkness, I heard a struggle. They were throwing punches, and something fell over and broke.

 

“Get out of here!” I shouted, standing on my feet. It felt as if I had a spotlight on my white baby-doll nightie.

 

“You’re going to regret that,” one of them said, but I couldn’t tell which.

 

“Maybe I’ll cut you off,” the other growled. “It’s time you bail your own ass out.”

 

“Go fuck yourself, since no one else will.”

 

The door slammed and then I had some peace.

 

“Hello?” I said.

 

A lamp switched on from the right side of the room. Wheeler crouched down and pulled a can of soda from the short fridge. He held it to his face and turned around, maintaining his distance across the room.

 

I approached him and pulled the can away. “Here, let me see.”

 

Wheeler averted his eyes, and I lightly touched the drop of blood on his cheek. “It’s just a small cut.” I ran a thin towel under the faucet and then pressed it to his upper cheekbone, right below his left eye. Most Shifters wouldn’t shift to heal minor injuries because it angered our animal if they couldn’t stay out. “Hold still for a moment. What did you come in here for?”

 

He turned the can of soda in his hand, looking down at it. “I haven’t seen you eat all day. Maybe I don’t want your panther getting hungry.”

 

“Oh. For a fleeting moment, I thought maybe you cared.” I stepped closer and peeked beneath the cloth. “Just another minute and it’ll clot.”

 

“Why don’t you drink this while you’re waiting?”

 

“I’m afraid all those bubbles will give me a headache. Caffeine on an empty stomach will keep me up all night.”

 

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