Read Fix You: Bash and Olivia, Book 3 for Free Online Page B

all nice and smelling clean, we can—”
    “Snuggle in your bed and go to sleep,” she finished with a wink. “I think you’ve had enough action for tonight. Tomorrow, if you’re feeling good enough, we’ll see about the rest.”
    It wasn’t until I was under the hot spray of the shower that the exhaustion hit me like a dump truck. My muscles ached with fatigue, and all the places Stan The Tank had managed to land a shot started hurting at once. True to her word, Liv washed my back—and my front—with a sudsy cloth, skating lightly over cuts and bruises, fingers digging into tense muscle until the knots loosened beneath her gentle hands.
    I barely remembered climbing out and drying off, we were both so bone-tired. All I remembered was crawling into bed and my girl climbing in next to me, pressing her bottom to my groin, and me burying my face in her hair as we fell asleep.
    I’d faced off with a gangster, fought in an illegal fight club, and wound up with an eyeful of stitches, and I was still calling it one of the best nights of my life.

 
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Olivia
     
    “Wasn’t Whitcomb supposed to be here by now?” Reid looked down at his watch and muttered under his breath before turning to face me, brown eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure he’s coming?”
    I’d paid the guy a massive retainer to ensure that he would be, but who knew anymore? Lately, it seemed like humanity as a whole was on a mission to prove exactly how shitty it could be. Maybe Linden Whitcomb Esquire was just another crushing disappointment waiting to happen, which would seriously piss me off because it had been a really lovely couple of weeks, aside from being mostly homebound and basically broke.
    Once Bash had gotten past the fight with Stan, everything had fallen into place. Mickey had contacted him and told him that he wouldn’t pay him the other five grand for the fight, but that he’d be willing to wait for the rest of the money until Bash got the purse from the Spada match. Not ideal, since none of us felt that Matty should have had to pay him at all, but considering the alternative, the terms were acceptable and allowed us to concentrate on the most important thing, which was making sure Bash was able to shake the assault charges so he could even fight Spada and collect said purse.
    If today went well, then Bash would again be on his way to making his dreams come true. Back on the fast track to getting out of Boston for good and forging a career in the ring. After seeing him at Mickey’s warehouse, I blanched every time I thought about having to see him fight again, but both Bash and Matty assured me that sanctioned boxing wasn’t nearly as brutal and there were a lot of safety measures in place. If might have been a load of crap, but I chose to believe it because I couldn’t deal with the alternative. Not right now, anyway.
    Bash tugged my hand and nodded toward the massive oak door of the courthouse. “That him?”
    I looked up to see a tall, slender man in an impeccable gray suit walking across the marble floor toward the long bench we sat on, a smile perched on his too-tan face. “Yes, how’d you know?”
    Bash shrugged. “He looks like a Linden Whitcomb, don’t you think?”
    He did, indeed. I’d met with him once before, when I’d first retained him, but Bash and he had done all their strategizing over the telephone. It made me nervous. I’d wanted them to meet in person, but Whitcomb had wanted Bash to lie low and stick close to home until his shiner went away. He was afraid that the Abernathys had eyes on him and he didn’t want to give them any more ammunition to call his character into question.
    “Sebastian,” Whitcomb said smoothly, holding out a hand. “Linden Whitcomb, nice to finally meet you.”
    Bash shook hands with the lawyer and introduced him to his brothers. As we waited to be called in and talked quietly about the case, clipped footsteps echoed through the foyer and I