World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3) by Carina Taylor (ebook reader online txt) 📗

already here.” Fletcher ground out as West began swiping away the blood with alcohol wipes.

“You called them?” I asked.

“Is there a way I can answer this later?”

“No! Somebody shot you! And I need to know who!” I exclaimed.

West nodded. “So do I. Is it a bust?”

“They didn’t make me. It was when I was jumping over the fence. I was too far away for them to see. They didn’t even know what they were shooting at. It was one of his new guys. It was a lucky hit.”

West pointed to the stack of alcohol wipes. “Open another one of those for me.”

I picked up a couple and ripped open the packages.

“Get a bag for me to set all of these dirty ones in.”

I opened the cupboard and pulled out a garbage bag.

West scooped up the dirty wipes and stuffed them into the bag as I held it.

“Where are the cops? I swear, if you don’t start explaining why you’ve been shot and are bleeding all over my white rug, I am going to flip out like you’ve never seen before,” I threatened quietly.

Two sets of eyes stared at me. West looked slightly scared, but Fletcher had a small smile despite his furrowed brow. “But I always like it when you flip out. No one gets angry quite like you do. Remember when we first met, and you ran down the mail truck barefoot across gravel?”

“That will seem like nothing if you don’t start talking,” I promised.

Fletcher lifted an arm up to rest his head against it.

I knelt down beside him and brushed the hair off his forehead. I lifted his head onto my lap and brushed the sweat from his temples.

“Saidy, I haven’t been honest with you. And I don’t know an easy way to say this. You will have every right to hate me when I tell you the entire story.”

“I wish you’d tell me and let me decide for myself.”

He winced as West poured something onto his hip. “I’ll never live down getting shot in the butt.”

“Nope,” West agreed.

I was two seconds away from exploding. Fletcher winked at me and leaned into my hand.

“I’m a police officer, Saidy. So is West.”

My hand paused at the trail along his hairline. I couldn’t possibly have heard him right.

“I’ve been working undercover ever since you met me. Exploratory Tech Solutions is my cover company.”

“What?” This didn’t make sense.

No—he couldn’t possibly mean that.

“I met you right after I went undercover.”

“What?”

It was the only word I could seem to handle. My boyfriend was a police officer. He was doing undercover work.

“I wanted to tell you the truth, but I was so scared I wouldn’t be able to protect you if they came after you. It was safer to have you know nothing about my work.”

“You mean to tell me that you’re a cop?”

“And you are completely justified to be angry with me.” He nodded.

“All this time you’ve been out there on an undercover job?”

He grimaced as West probed the wound. “And all I get as thanks is a shot to the ass.”

West chuckled, “I hate to break it to you, but you weren’t shot. This looks like a piece of wood got stuck in you.”

“What?” Fletcher’s eyes flew open. “I’m not shot?”

West shook his head laughing. “Look at this, rookie.”

With that, he used a pair of tweezers to rip out a chunk of wood. It wasn’t a splinter; it was a freaking log nearly an inch in diameter.

“You really did have a stick up your ass, didn’t you?” West asked as he held the alcohol wipes against the wound that was now bleeding again.

I had a metallic taste in my mouth. “How did that happen?”

“I was jumping the fence. There was a broken board and I slipped at the same time as the gunshot. I felt a blazing pain. I figured I’d been shot, so I pulled myself over the fence and tried to get away as fast as I could.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to keep pouring alcohol into this, I’m going to have to patch this up.”

I started to look at what West was doing, but Fletcher gave a shake of his head. “He’s going to sew me up.”

Sew. Sewing involved something poky. Sewing someone up involved a sharp needle poking through skin. I gagged.

“Please don’t be sick on me.”

West chuckled.

“I won’t be sick.” I sniffed.

“You’re funny. You’re handling all this blood, but someone mentions a needle and you lose your breakfast.”

“It was actually going to be my dinner that I lost.”

I leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his head, grateful that he hadn’t been shot. But the fact that someone had been shooting at him sent a chill down my spine.

“What was your mom making tonight?” His glazed eyes sought mine.

“She made a new type of salsa. Super spicy.”

He waggled his eyebrows, then winced. “You know I like spicy.”

“I’ll have her give us a jar.”

“Please. How’s Glamma?”

“Still hasn’t forgiven me for breaking up with you.”

Fletcher winced again. I didn’t dare look to see what was happening on his hip. The last thing he needed was me throwing up all over him.

“I always knew Glamma was a good one. Next time you see her, tell her I miss her.”

“Maybe you should date her. She’d be happy to have you.”

“But you wouldn’t.”

I shrugged noncommittally. He had a lot of explaining to do when West was finished sewing him up.

“All done.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Poor Fletcher. He’d been carrying on a conversation while being stitched up with a needle with no anesthetic. That sharp, poking in and out of his skin. Over and over…

I dropped Fletcher’s head and lurched toward the toilet and promptly lost the salsa and chips.

A minute later, I felt a large hand settle on my back and rub gentle circles.

When I finally sat up, Fletcher held a clean rag toward me. West was standing in the doorway, trying not to laugh.

“I’ll see myself out. Keep an eye on it and