Chapter 5
Ishrugged off my cut and carefully set it on the chair we’d kept to the side that held her things, along with some snacks and drinks I’d had the prospect bring for us and pulled the coveralls on.
I wasn’t sure if this plan of mine was going to backfire on me, but when Mary asked if I could check in on Marty when she went back to where the asshole had cornered her, I’d come up with this idea.
A chat with Pope greenlighted it, and I got the ball rolling thanks to the prospects who had to do whatever we needed.
Now I just hoped that instead of our first date at a rage room, a rage hotel room would work. I’d just finished zipping up when the bathroom door opened and there she was again. My hand rose and rested right over my head.
“What?” She was staring at me with speculation.
“You’re beautiful.” The compliment slipped past my lips with nothing but awe in my voice, but she simply snorted and shook her head.
“If this is your thing, I guess.” She glanced down at her body covered head to toe in a shapeless coverall and shrugged. That feisty sass was going to be the death of me. “Are you serious about this?” She looked around the room.
“Have you heard about rage rooms?” I asked.
“Where you go and beat the crap out of junk?”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “Think about that TV, the furniture, the mirrors, any vase or lamp as shit you can fuck up.” It would all be replaced.
“What? Why would we do that? It’d make such a mess—”
“Because it would make you feel better,” I cut her off. It would make me feel better about being a gigantic ass, too, but that was selfish. This was all about her.
“Me?” she asked incredulously, looking straight at me. Like there wasn’t a damn thing she missed and for some reason still liked what she saw.
“What happened…” I said delicately, “happened here, right?” She swallowed, and I lost her pretty stare.
Her eyes skirted the bed, and the pretty tan of her skin paled.
If I hadn’t been watching her so fucking closely, I would have missed the way she nodded slightly, like she was suddenly reminded of what had happened.
As if I had somehow found a way to distract her and she’d forgotten.
And my big-ass mouth only reminded her.
I had to take a deep cleansing breath to keep my shit together as my hands fisted at my sides. I’d fucked up. No one would ever put a hand on her. Not ever again, not without paying for it with my foot pressed down on their balls before I pulled the trigger.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t do more than kick the fucker in the balls, but maybe doing this…” The knot in my throat tightened. “Maybe it would help,” I suggested. I felt like an idiot hearing myself say the words.
As if smashing up shit would make it better.
As if anything that creep did could just be erased.
It was on the tip of my tongue to take it back and offer her a ride to therapy.
Maybe talking it out with a professional would be better.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she looked around the space, at the things I’d mentioned.
“I really like the sound of beating the crap out of something,” she admitted with a sigh, and her dark gaze connected with mine.
“But these things… The TV, the, bed, the mirrors… it could all be donated. They’re in great condition.
Someone could use them.” Shit. If I wasn’t already half-way in love with her, that right there would have nailed me to the coffin.
“Hmm… okay. You’re right.”
“I am?”
“You are.” She was also fucking sweet and thoughtful beneath all that attitude. I’d bet my bike she had a soft, gooey center. One I knew, without even having to kiss her, I’d work tooth and nail not only to protect but to be the one who was honored in seeing it.
Yeah, I am fucked.
My mind went a million miles a minute as to what the fuck to do next. “Come on.”
“What?”
“Trust me?” Her mouth opened and shut, and she stared at me for a moment. “Trust me?” I repeated, taking a step closer to her, and when I was within reach, I extended my hand.
Her eyes dropped to it and then moved back up. The only saving grace I could hold on to was the fact she wasn’t staring at it like a fucking snake that was about to bite. Her gaze rose, and I couldn’t decipher what that look meant.
She drank me in and didn’t make any attempt at hiding it as she checked me out. The appreciation of my body was crystal clear, but there was something else there, too. A softness beneath the shrewd study of her gaze.
“Fine.” But no funny business.” She pointed a finger at me. It was almost close to impossible to hold back my grin as I agreed.
“I’m probably the least funny person you’ll ever meet,” I said seriously, and that’s when I saw it.
A crack in her tough-girl exterior.
“I bet,” she mumbled before taking my hand. The moment her palm touched mine, all warm and soft despite having to work with harsh chemicals, something in my world righted at the very time it shifted on its axis.
And I knew that no matter what, life would never be the same again.