52. Chapter 51
Chapter 51
Blake
I felt awful, but I couldn’t look at my father, let alone talk to him, when they brought him out. My heart had swelled with gratitude when AJ stepped between us to shield me.
From my father. How fucked up is my life right now?
AJ turned away when Meg asked John if he’d gotten shot, but not for long.
“Is he okay?” I asked from the warmth and safety of AJ's arms.
“He is, though Meg's convinced.” He leaned back and lifted my chin. His love radiated off him like a neon sign flashing in the night, knocking me off balance. Physically and emotionally.
I looked away and saw a man face down in the grass. How many men did they kill to rescue me? And how had I not noticed them before now?
It didn’t matter. They were hardened criminals, and I didn’t doubt for a second they’d take turns raping me before killing me.
Crowley hadn’t been subtle in the bedroom, telling me all the things he’d do to me before killing me. After taking all my money, of course.
I’d expected my father to say something, to at least try to help me. It’s not like I thought he could really stop them, but he should have at least tried. AJ would have .
I was so wrong about so many things.
My father wasn’t the man I thought he was. He was corrupt, and a coward.
Neither was Andrew Janerek, but in a good way.
My knees gave out as I remembered my fear of getting shot as Crowley dragged me to the floor.
“I got you,” AJ said as he scooped me up.
“It’s okay. I can walk.”
“Please let me do this,” he all but begged.
“Okay.” Being in his arms felt too good to argue.
Sirens wailed in the distance as I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him carry me down the steps towards the cars.
I refused to release the death grip I had on his neck when he tried to put me down.
“Sweetheart, I need to put you down so I can take off my belt.”
I forced myself to let go, embarrassed by my clinginess. What happened to being an independent woman who doesn’t need an alpha man?
Refusing to sound like I’d lost my grip on reality, I held back my laugh. The last few days had shown me, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there were some things I needed an alpha man for.
Not just any man.
Andrew, no middle name, Janerek.
“Here, sit,” he said as he helped me into the back seat.
I stared at all the things on his waist. Before I could identify half of what I was looking at, his rifle blocked my view. He moved it around, then took it off and handed it to someone.
I kept staring.
“Blake, are you okay?” he asked, tilting my face up, so I was looking at him instead of his war-ready belt.
I nodded, then shook my head and laughed. “What’s all that?” I asked, hiding my fear and anxiety behind the question.
AJ asked, “You really want to know?”
I wasn’t sure, but I needed something to focus on.
“Rifle magazines, pistol magazines, and a tourniquet.” He pointed to each thing as he identified it.
“Oh.” What else could I say? I’d seen people wear things like it in the movies but never in person. It looks a lot scarier up close and personal.
“You okay?”
Knowing he was asking about my reaction to everything that had happened, not his belt, I took a second to think about it.
Am I okay?
“I think so.” I stood up, so it was easier to see his face. Okay was a stretch, but I’d get there, eventually.
How easy it’d been for me to say violence was never the answer when I’d never been in danger. It was the scariest, hardest lesson I’d ever learned.
But now I understand—sometimes violence is the only answer.
When he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed, I yelped.
“Sorry,” he said, pushing me away by my shoulders. “Give me a sec.”
I stepped back and watched him strip off his belt. Once again, he handed it off to someone, but I never took my eyes off AJ. The sirens wailed louder; the cops would be here any minute.
Then I’d have to give them my statement. Tell them my father is a criminal . Tears flooded my eyes.
When AJ opened his arms, I rushed back in and planted my face in his sweaty chest and inhaled.
My nose wrinkled involuntarily. He didn’t smell like the same sweaty man I sat next to on his bed.
“Andrew, were you nervous?” He’d seemed so calm.
“Nervous? Nah,” I felt his chest shake with a chuckle, “I was scared shitless.”
I pulled back and looked into his dark eyes. There were a million things I wanted to say, but a parade of flashing lights and wailing sirens made it impossible.
There was only one thing I wouldn’t wait to say, “Thank you for saving me, Andrew.”