ISABELLA’S P.O.V.
My ribs ached badly and Mac seemed to be deliberately driving through all the potholes he could find. He drove over a particularly deep one and I let out a pained groan and shot him a death glare.
His hair was always kept bald. In the eight years that I knew him, I had never seen a strand of hair on his head. The only way I knew that his hair was a dark brown color was due to the huge beard that he kept. He was the kind of man you would easily overlook. He wasn’t overly muscular or overly slim and he didn’t have any defining tattoos or piercings. He looked scary sometimes but he was a real softie.
“That’s what you get for doing something as risky as this,” he spat and I rolled my eyes at him. “What were you thinking, Isabella? We have ways that we handle these kinds of
