Southern Heat (Southern #6) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
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"What is it?" my father asks, his voice low and calm but also full of worry.

"She’s in fucking pain,” I say through clenched teeth, my voice as low as it can go. “Fucking pain and she refuses to admit it."

"Quinn," he says my name, and I’m not sure if it’s a warning or not. "Why don’t I send someone to take your place for a couple of hours? You can go and get some sleep."

I ignore what he just said. “Dad, she is in so much pain her body shakes, and she doesn’t even notice it." My stomach turns over as I look back into the room and see her eyes are still closed. "She is in so much pain that she holds her breath as she fights through it. She is in a fuck ton of pain, and she is jumpy and scared shitless." I don’t tell him that she looks around every five seconds to make sure she knows where the exits are. I don’t tell him that I have a feeling if she is left alone, she will try to run. I don’t know her, but I feel it in my bones that she isn’t going to stick around.

"Maybe it’s you,” he says, and I look down at the floor as I listen to him. “Maybe it’s the fact you’re a man, and she isn’t comfortable with men. I could send in Amelia,” he says. “See if she talks to her."

"No," I say. “Right now, she knows I’m here and not leaving. Sooner or later, she’ll trust me."

"But what if she doesn’t?” I close my eyes, not willing to think about that. "We don’t know anything about her."

"We know she tried to get to Chelsea to help her, and we know that he left her for fucking dead." My voice goes lower. “If she was in on it, why would he leave her for dead?" I ask him the same question my head has been asking me. “Why hide her under a fucking bed?"

"I have no idea," my father huffs. “There are so many questions still unanswered."

"Well"—I look over at the woman in the bed—“all the answers are there." I look down and then up again, not adding that she just has to give them to us.

"I’m going to ask her more when she is up to it,” I say. “In the meantime, see if anyone has mentioned her name anywhere."

"I’ll send it to Derek." My father mentions his second-in-command. “If anyone can find out who she is, he can."

"I’ll check on my end also,” I say. “I’ll let you know."

"Quinn," he says. “What is going on here?" he asks me. "You find this girl, and then you stick by her like glue."

"She has no one," I remind him.

"This isn’t one of the horses you rescue," he says. “Not all of them can be saved."

"This isn’t that,” I say, and he laughs.

"Son, you are talking to someone who has known you your whole life,” he says. “You are the most nurturing soul I know. You see the wounded, and all you want to do is make it better."

"This isn’t like that,” I say, but even I don’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.

"I’ll let you know what I find out on my end,” he says, not willing to have this conversation with me right now. “Let me know how things go on your end."

"I will,” I say, hanging up and looking over to see Mayson standing there talking to the nurse.

Looking into the room, I see her eyes are still closed, and Doris comes out of the room. “How is she doing?"

"She’s a fighter,” she says, looking back into the room and seeing her eyes are closed. “I just upped her pain meds."

"Did she ask for it?" I ask Doris, and she just looks at me.

"She said she was fine,” she says. “But then you saw her erratic heartbeat every time she felt pain."

"How long is she going to be out?" I ask Doris.

"She should be out for about four hours,” she says and walks away from me, going over to the whiteboard and writing numbers on it.

"Her name is Willow," I tell Doris, and she looks over her shoulder at me. “You can change the Jane Doe." I point at the top of her column. With a smile, she erases Jane Doe and replaces it with Willow.

"She has a name?" Mayson says from beside me.

"She does,” I say. “How is Chelsea?"

"She thinks she is leaving tomorrow." He shakes his head.

"Do you know her?" I ask him. To be honest, things between Mayson and me have not always been smooth. I didn’t trust him when he first got here, and I still don’t trust him. But, and there is a huge but, Chelsea has chosen him. So I have to respect her and accept him, if for no one else but her.



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