Heart-On: Turf Wars #2 by Bella Jewel (top 20 books to read TXT) 📗

he’ll go down that path again, because I’m seein’ the changes in him.”

Ugh.

That is concerning.

“What am I supposed to be watching for?”

Riggs shrugs. “Drinkin’ too much, bein’ angry, sleepin’ too much, fuckin’ too much, all the normal signs.”

Normal signs.

Yeesh.

I’m not sure I’d call those normal signs.

“Well, those are Adan in general, you’re going to have to give me something more.”

Riggs grins. “Just watch him. Anything that seems off, you tell me, yeah?”

“I will, but I’ll warn you he doesn’t like me sticking my nose in anywhere and I’m not sure something like this would go down well. If he thinks I’m watching him...”

“He’s all talk, don’t be afraid of him. It’ll do him some good to have someone putting him back in his place.”

“And that someone has to be me?” I squeak.

Riggs nods. “You seem like you’ve got the backbone for it.”

“I’m not entirely sure if that’s a compliment or an insult, but it’ll take it.” I laugh. “I’m going to find him. Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.”

I disappear inside where Adan, Hugh, Beckett, and Remy are all sitting around a table, talking about something. I’m glad to see Adan’s bandaged hands in front of him on the table, not undone and exposed. They all turn when I walk in. “Sorry to break up your time here, but we’ve got an appointment to make.”

Adan grunts. “I’ve got shit to do, Ramona. Go on your own.”

I raise my brows. “Well I would, except the appointment is for you ... You know, the burned hands and all. Now get up, I’m not getting paid for you to sit here and grow a nasty infection.”

Adan glares at me.

Beckett chuckles. “I like her,” he says out loud.

“I fuckin’ don’t,” Adan grunts, standing and shoving his chair back in.

“Men,” I say to the room as Adan walks toward the door. “Take note on how not to treat a lady.”

Beckett winks at me, and Remy nods with a grin.

I spin on my heel and walk out.

Well, this should be fun.

“IT’S FUCKIN’ SHIT, turn it off,” Adan growls, slamming his stubby bandaged hands onto my car stereo player as he tries to change the song.

I shove his hand away. “Firstly, it is not. Nothing about Lizzo is fucking shit. Do you understand? She’s a queen, and she deserves to be idolized.”

“She’s singin’ about tossin’ her fuckin’ hair and bein’ a bitch that can’t get over heartbreak.”

“She is singing about being stronger than something with a fucking penis.”

Then, at the top of my voice, I sing the chorus as I flick my hair to the side, the long strands hitting Adan and making him wave his arms around, trying to push it off. Then, a strand gets in his mouth and he spends the next minute spluttering and spitting trying to get it out. It really is a wonderful experience.

There is nothing quite like watching a man, who can’t use his hands, try to get a hair out of his mouth while coughing and spluttering.

I’m laughing, hysterically. So much so, I have to pull the car over because I can’t breathe as I watch him paw at his mouth, snarling curses at me to get the fucking hair out and stop being a pain in the ass. I reach over, laughing so hard I actually spit on him. This only causes him to lose it more, trying to shove me back with his arms.

“This is the best day of my life,” I wail in hysteria, hiccupping through the laughter as I try to reach for him.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t fuckin’ touch me. You’re unprofessional.”

I laugh harder. “Stop being a—” I have to take a breath “—baby. Let me get the hair out.”

“You spat on me!”

I snort. “That’s revenge for all the times I’ve had to wash your penis.”

I could swear his mouth twitches, I could swear it, but he doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me and my childlike laughter as I pluck the hair from his mouth. It’s long, too. And thick. I have super thick hair, thanks to my Indian heritage.

“I need to fuckin’ wash my mouth.”

I roll my eyes and lean back in the chair, taking a few deep breaths. “I’m not made of cooties, biker. Calm down. I’ve seen the women you bring home, I’m certain there have been worse things crawling around in your bed.”

He glares at me.

I throw him a smile. “Now, we’re going to be late for your appointment. Are you ready?”

“No.”

“That’s wonderful.”

I drive us to the appointment, still laughing every now and then as the memory flashes through my mind.

God, it shouldn’t be this much fun tormenting someone, but it is ...

It really is.

2

“You’ve got to stop trying to do things,” Doctor Daniel tells Adan, as he studies his hands. “You’re not healing as fast as you should be, and that’s because you refuse to just let your body do its thing. You can’t be galivanting around and moving your hands all the time.”

“You try livin’ without moving your hands, Doc. It ain’t easy,” Adan grunts.

“I understand that, but it’s not forever. That’s why you have Ramona to help you. You need to rely on her more.”

“To be fair doctor, I already have to wash his junk. I’m not sure he could possibly rely on me any more than that,” I point out.

Doctor Daniel grins at me.

I think he likes me.

Every single time I bring Adan in here, he flirts with me.

I’m certain if I asked, he’d take me out.

A doctor wouldn’t be so bad, either.

“I understand it’s difficult,” he begins, and Adan cuts him off.

“Difficult?” he grunts. “How is it difficult for her? It’s her job.”

“Once again ...” I say, raising my brows. “Junk.”

Adan glares at me.

“You need to do less, Adan. If you want to get back to it sooner, then you have to listen to what I’m telling you.”

Daniel dresses Adan’s hands and bandages them again. Then he looks to me. “Wonderful job on keeping them clean, Ramona. You’re doing