Chapter 12

The sound of gunfire ricocheted through my ears. I opened my eyes, desperately searching the moonlit room, hoping that the man who had put the bullet in my chest hadn't come back to finish the job.

No one was there. I tried focusing on the air to see if any rippling appeared, but everything seemed normal. It was only a dream. I looked at the clock—three in the morning. Without thinking, I rolled onto my side then realised that only a few hours ago, that simple movement wouldn't have been possible. My chest still hurt, but at least I could move. I took a deep breath and held onto it until the pain had subsided then released it slowly.

I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but it wasn't until the sun began to rise that my eyes got heavy enough to drag me back under.

***

The vibrating of my phone on the bedside table woke me. With my eyes still closed, I reached out and grabbed it. "Hello?"

There was no answer. I opened my eyes and looked at the screen.

"Shit." I had ten missed calls from my dad and one from Lilly.

My phone began vibrating again with a message from my father.

Why aren't you answering your phone? Do I need to call for that babysitter?

I clenched my fist, trying to keep from throwing the phone. Once I was calm enough, I replied.

I just woke up. Have been up all night studying.

I hoped that would appease him.

A minute later another text appeared.

You better not sleep in tomorrow! You've got an exam, and I'm going to be checking with the school to make sure you're there.

Yes, Dad. I wouldn't miss school for the world. I threw the phone on the bed. I couldn't wait for the school year to be over so I could finally get him off my back. I just wished he would stop pretending he gave a damn about what I did. The only person he gave a damn about was himself and what everyone thought about him and his precious daughter that he had raised from birth on his own. That was the lie of the century. My father did everything he could not to be in my life. Nannies had raised me. I had one from the moment I was brought home from hospital, and thanks to my father crossing the line of professionalism with each and every nanny, I had another fifteen thereafter. I was so determined to not make it sixteen.

I sat up, and a dull pain throbbed in my chest. I had completely forgotten about my wound. I carefully peeled back the gauze. I stared down at my skin. The wound had improved. "What the...?"

A knock sounded on my bedroom door, then Jett entered without waiting for me to give him the okay.

"Yes, you may come in," I said sarcastically.

He smirked. "Shy, are we?"

"Ahh, I don't call me not wanting a guy I've just met to see me in my underwear as being shy."

"Swimmers, panties, same dif."

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't sure if it was just Jett who felt that way or if it was part of the Gold Coast way of life. Somehow, I thought it was the latter.

"I'm guessing you're needing to go to the bathroom?"

I scrunched up my face. How did he know?

He laughed as if he'd read my mind. "Most people have the urge to go when they wake up."

I cringed. "And you're planning on helping me get there, aren't you?"

He clapped his hands. "That's what I'm here for."

I raised my eyebrows. "To take me to the loo?"

A devilish grin spread across his face. "Amongst other things."

I just about choked, making his smile grow even wider.

Fortunately, he didn't leave me sitting there with my mouth open for long. He put his arm around my back and helped me to my feet. "Are you right to walk?"

I nodded, unable to say a word because of what he may or may not have insinuated. Then I realised I was only wearing my panties, and I didn't have the ability to quickly grab something to cover me. But if I said anything, I was pretty sure I would only embarrass myself more. So I sucked it up and went with it.

He guided me into the bathroom and right over to the toilet. He stood with his body inches from mine and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, making my stomach do all sorts of stupid things. "How does it feel?"

"Huh?"

He chuckled, obviously knowing the reaction he had on girls. "How's your wound?"

"Oh, that." I looked down at the gauze. "Surprisingly, much better."

"Good." He stepped back. "I'll be just outside. Call me when you're done."

I nodded and waited for him to close the door behind him. Again, I inched my panties down and leaned back until my ass hit the toilet seat. I let my bladder go then cringed when I realised Jett was on the other side of the door and most definitely able to hear me. So attractive. In the few days I'd known him, he had seen more of me than most of my boyfriends—with the exception of Josh, who I dated for way too long and was glad to finally be rid of.

When I finished, I tilted myself forward at the same time as I pulled up my panties. I crept over to the sink and washed my hands. Once I had dried them, I shuffled over to the door, sucked in a deep breath, and opened it.

Jett was standing on the other side with a grin that I hoped was more to do with me standing there in my panties and tank top than the noise of me going to the loo. "Better?" he asked.

I bit my lip, trying to supress a smile. "Much."

He wrapped his arm around me again and helped me back to the bed, where he proceeded to tuck me in as if I were five. "I need to take another look." He sat down beside me.

I nodded, and Jett peeled back the gauze. The side of his hand rested against my breast as he inspected the bullet wound. I knew I should ask him something, but for the life of me, I couldn't concentrate on anything but his hand touching my boob and wishing it was under different circumstances.

"It still looks clean." He pressed the gauze back in place.

My brain started to function again. "Look, I know you said before that I didn't know what a bullet wound should look like, but I'm pretty sure that it shouldn't heal practically overnight. I mean, yesterday it looked like it had been a week since I was shot, and today it's as if another week has passed. And I'm pretty sure that it was only last night that you were in bed with me..." I trailed off when I realised what I'd said, or rather, what it sounded like we'd been doing.

Jett laughed.

I closed my eyes and cringed for what was probably the hundredth time since I'd met him. "You know what I mean."

"What? About us being in bed together?"

I covered my eyes with my hand and wished I could melt into the bed. "Just go."

Jett chuckled, and I felt his weight leave the mattress. When I heard the door click shut, I removed my hand from my eyes. I couldn't believe the effect that guy had on me. Something about him just shut down the part of my brain that usually kept me from saying dumb-assed stuff. I seemed to only feel one thing when he was around—lust. Pathetic girly lust. The type I'd want to smack out of a girl when I saw her making a fool out of herself over a guy. But I was becoming that kind of girl.

Remembering my missed call from Lilly, I picked up my phone and read her message.

The warden is letting me out on parole for good behaviour. Mind if I come over?

As much as I would've loved the distraction, I had no idea how I could explain the bullet wound in my chest, let alone why Jett was babysitting me. And I definitely didn't want her thinking I was losing my mind like the police had insinuated. Wish you could, but Dad's got a tutor for me. Won't be finished for hours.

Thirty seconds later, another message appeared. I feel your pain. See ya tomorrow :)

Tomorrow? "Shit." How the hell was I going to make it to schoolthen get around once I was there? Unfortunately, the only thing I could come upwith was Jett. I just hoped that his offer to take care of me included helping me at school, and that my wound would make another miraculous overnight recovery.