"It never seems to fail, the rich ones' panties are always soaked at the sight of a little ink and muscle."
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THIRD BOOK IN THE CARMICHAEL SERIES - MUST READ EITHER KNOX'S GIRL OR LEAGUE OF HER OWN (or both) TO UNDERSTAND!!
"Have you learned your...
**I can never keep ya'll waiting on a cliffy like that. That's just too mean, so please put your knives and pitch forks down! Hahah, love you guys! ALSO, PIC BELOW OF EVAN'S ENGAGEMENT RING!**
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Evan's POV
"What?" I demanded, my voice so quiet it barely registered that I'd spoke.
"Your dad, he...he's been shot." Scar stammered, a pained expression on his face. I could feel my face drain of all its color as he stared down at his phone in disbelief.
"No...no! Where is he? How is he? Is he being taken care of?" I yelled out while scrambling off the bed and throwing on the first clothing items I saw. Scar followed my lead with his phone intently pressed to his ear. Shoving his feet inside his shoes, he mumbled a few parting words before throwing the rest of our shit into our bags.
"Come on baby, let's go." Scar stated, leaving no room for discussion. He could clearly tell that I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown and was doing his best to prevent it. Grabbing my hand, he dragged me after him while handing me his wallet and telling me to fish out our plane tickets. I did so with shaking hands as silent tears began to cascade down my cheeks. My phone rang off the hook, but I couldn't even think straight enough to process what was going on.
I sat on Scar's lap the entire ride to the airport, desperately clutching at the shirt covering his chest as his knees bounced lightly underneath me - his own nervous tick. I knew he was scared for my father; they'd been best friends before I came into the picture and ruined everything between them. I knew he was hurting on the inside, though the stern expression on his face would never tell you so. He was doing his best to be strong for me, and I could never thank him enough for it. Scar explained the situation to the very flustered airport worker, getting her to agree to put us on the very next flight, which just so happened to be leaving within the following few minutes.
My stomach churned the entire plane ride home. It was four whole agonizing hours of not knowing what was going on with my father or what condition he was in. The most important man in my life. Guilt tore at my heart as I recalled what my last words were to him. How could I be so fucking cruel. I'm the worst daughter that's ever lived! Finally getting home, we rushed to the hospital, not a single work spoken since we'd boarded the plane. Once inside, Scar and I ignored the screaming receptionist's warning that it was strictly "family only" past that certain point.
"Hey! You! Doctor! Get over here!" Scar bellowed from down the hall. Everyone around us shrank away, not wanting to be on the receiving end of Scar's mood.
"Sir?" He asked, his eyes looking anywhere but Scar - who comically towered over the doctor.
"My fiance's father's been shot and I need to know what room he's in." Scar demanded. The doctor swallowed visibly as the files in his hands shook ever so slightly.
