Chapter Twenty-One
Grayson
“What the hell is going on over there?” Jake asked, leaning against the door to his apartment, worry coating his features. He must have been watching on the security cameras.
Sighing, I shook my head, pulling out my keys. “Too much fucking shit.” I jerked my chin to him. “How’s everything over here?”
He nodded. “Good. She’s been quiet, mainly writing in her journal.”
Relief hit me. I’d made sure to grab her journal, laptop, and camera before leaving Astoria. I was glad she was writing. It would do her some good to get those thoughts out onto the page. “Right,” I muttered. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her.”
Jake studied me for a moment. “I don’t like the way you said that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like you didn’t think I would,” he answered honestly.
I blinked.
“You know damn well I’d do anything for you Grayson,” Jake reminded me, tipping his head towards my front door. “That includes her too.”
Fuck.
The weight on my shoulders suddenly felt heavier than before. My team—my guys—were stepping up for me and the woman I loved in ways I never expected them to. Before I could utter a reply, his phone began ringing in his pocket. As he fished it out, I continued to stare at him, wondering how in the fuck I deserved all of this—them, Carrie, my own mother…?
Jake muttered an excuse me as he put the phone to his ear and disappeared back into his apartment.
As soon as I unlocked the door to the condo, I heard Tic-Tac’s collar bell jingling as he ran out of the bedroom, bolting for me, meowing the whole way.
“Grayson?” Carrie called, her sweet voice carrying through the space as the familiar scent of berries filled my nostrils. “Is that you?”
Fucking Christ.
My chest tightened. Coming home to her and the orange fuzz ball for the last two days had been nothing short of a dream, one I’d only gotten a taste of before it was ripped from me a week ago. I looked over into the kitchen, searching for her. Fear crawled its way up my back then, its talons digging into my skin. For the second time, this dream—this happiness was about to be ripped from me.
I was at a crossroads, and I was scared shitless.
“Yeah, Sunshine,” I answered her, locking the door and looking down at Tic-Tac. I pushed the fear aside as the cat greeted me, rubbing his body against my leg. “Hey, buddy. You have a good day?” I bent down to give him a rub, and when I rose back up, I found Carrie standing at the mouth of the living room, wearing the clothes I’d brought down from Astoria—light-colored jeans that made me want to slowly pull them off her as she whimpered and begged for me and her sweatshirt from Rossy’s Books. She tugged at the ends of the sleeves as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.
“I need to ask you something,” she blurted out.
“Anything,” I vowed, noting how her pupils were slightly dilated.
Was she…nervous? Scared?
She looked down at her purple socks, wiggling her toes, her bright ringlets hanging down over her shoulders. She looked better—more alive . Her skin was bright, her bruises were fading, and the light was back in her eyes. “Before you do that, baby, get over here and kiss me,” I murmured, needing to taste her.
“I don’t think you’ll want to kiss me after I ask this question, Grayson,” she whispered, looking back up and remaining in her place.
I stiffened. Something was wrong. “Carrie, what is it?”
Her next string of words came out thickly, barely above a whisper. “I want to go home.”
“That’s not a question. That’s a statement,” I told her, taking a single step closer. It also wasn’t an option, not right now at least. Taking her back to Astoria would just put a target on her back.
She folded her arms around her herself, looking away from me. “Will you take me home?”
Fuck. “Baby—”
“Please,” she rasped, tears coming to her eyes for the first time in days as she looked at me again. My body tightened, my gut twisting painfully at the sight.
Didn’t she understand I would give her anything? Do anything for her?
I moved then, going directly to her, closing the distance quickly. My arms were around her in seconds, and she sobbed into my chest as I kept her soft body against mine. “Grayson, I want to go home,” she pleaded.
My jaw tightened. She was fucking killing me.
“Not until I find Brandon, Sunshine,” I told her, kissing the top of her head as the knife in my stomach pressed in deeper. Then, she whispered something into my hoodie, something I would never forget.
“There’s no color here.”
My heart stopped, my mind going back to her file, remembering how the rehab doctors noted her asking for flowers over and over again.
My sunshine just wanted some fucking color in her life.
“Jesus, fuck,” I pushed out through clenched teeth, weaving my fingers into her hair, my palm on the back of her neck. I pulled her head back, my chest heaving now. “You want color, baby? Is that it?”
She nodded, inhaling a shaky breath.
I leaned down, brushing my lips over hers. “Do what you want to this place, then. I’ll leave my card, and you can go crazy,” I murmured against her mouth. She kissed me back then, pressing herself against me and snaking her arms around my neck. As my fingers tightened in her hair, my tongue forced her lips open, swooping in and drinking from her. I grunted at her taste, the sound coming from low in my throat. My teeth scraped against her lips as her fingers sunk into my hair, my sunshine clinging to me. My free hand dropped to her ass, grabbing a handful. Suddenly, all the shit from the day faded away, and the thoughts in my mind calmed. After a few minutes, I pulled back, relishing the sight of her swollen lips, my cock hard against her now. I gave her ass a soft pat, taking in her beauty.
Before I could get a word out, she blurted, “I’m sorry.”
My brows came together as I watched her back away from me, looking ashamed as she shook her head. “You and your team have done so much for me, and I’m complaining about your apartment not having any color.” She looked up to the ceiling, ashamed of herself. “I’m so stu—”
“Finish that sentence, and I’ll take you over my knee, Carrie,” I warned sharply.
“I was just—”
I tilted my head to the side. “Why are you apologizing for that? Why are you trying to talk down to yourself over something like this?”
“Because my issue seems insignificant compared to the fact that my crazy brother-in-law is trying to kill me,” she explained looking away from me.
In a flash, I had her chin in my grip, my nostrils flaring. “Carrie, you want color around you because you were locked in a colorless place for over a fucking year. No, scratch that—-your life never had color before you moved to Astoria. You need color. There’s nothing wrong with that,” I said firmly.
“But—”
“Hush,” I clipped, yanking her against me as I held her eyes. “Don’t you ever disregard your needs for me, do you understand me? I take care of you. That means if you want to make it look like a rainbow threw up in a condo that I barely sleep in and will be selling soon, then fucking do it. You do what you need to do to feel safe in my space when I’m not here, yeah?”
She said nothing, staring up at me in awe for a few moments as she processed my words. “You—you don’t—”
“Carrie, you’ve been through fucking hell, and by some twisted miracle, we found each other. You and I have both been through hell .” I let the words settle before I continued, my thumb stroking her skin. “This is still new for both of us, but I promised you I would do everything in my power to protect that light of yours. This is me doing that. Do what you need to do. At the end of the day, as long as you have that beautiful fucking light and you’re sleeping beside me, then everything is okay.”
“I love you,” she rasped.
Instead of replying, I took her lips again, kissing her until she was gasping and clinging to me. When I pulled away, my hand slid up her jaw and back into her hair. “There’s something else we have to talk about, baby.”
After kissing her once more, I led her to the couch and pulled her onto my lap, putting my hands on her hips as I stared up at her, soaking in every inch of her beauty. “I love you,” I vowed, my thumbs sweeping back and forth against her jeans-clad thighs.
She rested her hands against my abs, her shoulders relaxed as she nodded. “I know.”
I bit down, trying to find the right words to say, but the truth was, I didn’t know how to give her this. There wasn’t a way I could flip her world upside down gently. When I didn’t say anything, she broke the silence. “Whatever it is, Grayson. I can handle it,” she assured softly.
Looking back up at her, I exhaled through my nose. My strong woman.
God, she was so fucking strong.
She could handle this.
“Carrie, I went to see your father,” I told her, my voice cold.
She jerked back, her eyes widening. “Wh-what?”
“He had information on Robert no one else had,” I told her simply before going on to explain that visiting that bastard was already on the the to-do list, it just got pushed up.
“You…you and your team broke into a federal prison just to talk to my father?” she asked, raising a brow.
“That was the plan, yes.”
She gave me a look, narrowing her eyes. “Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t have your permission.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “You didn’t have my—”
“He’s your father, Carrie. Granted, he is a piece of shit and scum of the Earth, but nevertheless, he is your father. You get to decide his fate, not me,” I explained, holding her eyes.
Our gaze broke when she looked away from me, her eyes on Denver and the mountains just beyond it. I watched, studying her as she folded her arms over her chest. “What did he say? Did he ask about me?”
My chest tightened. “He asked who I was to you.”
“And what did you say?”
“It wasn’t any of his business. He doesn’t deserve to know anything about your life. He doesn’t deserve to know you’ve moved on from that place he left you to rot in,” I said softly, bringing my knuckle up to her face and brushing a curl from her cheek.
“He never cared about me,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “He never showed me affection, even when I was little. I was always a tool to him…an…” She trailed off, looking down to our laps, sniffling. “I don’t even know why I’m still upset over him.”
I tipped her chin up. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Carrie. You know that, right?”
Her next words shocked me down to the bone. “I wished you killed him,” she murmured, a single tear falling from her eye, landing on her pink tinted cheek. “Then, both of the men who nearly destroyed me would be dead.”
The words left my mouth before I could stop them. “Consider it done,” I vowed, my voice dark. This would be a promise I would gladly keep. She would never know how badly I wanted to put a bullet in his mouth for the pain he caused her, how he used her.
“You can’t keep killing people for me,” my sunshine deadpanned.
“Who says I can’t?” I returned.
A smile laugh bubbled up from her then, and it was music to my ears. “I would say the law, but I know you don’t give a fuck about that.”
My lips twitched. “Jesus, you sound like Mags.”
She grabbed my wrist, bringing my hand away from her face and tracing the head of the white snake down with her finger. “Did dear old dad even give you anything on Robert?”
I nodded, hesitating again. “He did, which led us back to St. Louis.”
She stiffened in my lap, her finger halting. “You went to St. Louis? Did you tell Jer? Sullie?”
I shook my head. “No. Again, that’s not my choice. We had to get to your in-laws.”
Confusion washed over her face, her brow pinching together. “What do they have to do with anything?”
“Carrie, Robert wasn’t the kind of man you thought he was.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Isn’t that the understatement of the century?”
“I’m not joking anymore, baby.” My jaw tightened as I bit down, grinding my teeth. “What I’m about to tell you is going to shock you. I know you’ll have questions, and I’ll try to answer them when I’m done. Just…just let me get this out.”
Slowly, she nodded, fear twisting in her blue pools.
“Robert Hale is— was the St. Louis River Killer.”
All the color left her face, and the more I explained, the more ghost-like she became. However, I gave her the information like I would in a normal de-briefing and pushed my emotions aside the best I could, keeping my voice level. That proved to be even more difficult than normal when she scrambled off my lap and ran into the bedroom with her hand over her mouth.
I shot off the couch, running after her. “Carrie!”
She rounded the corner and hurried into the bathroom, slamming down to her knees in front of the toilet.
“Jesus,” I bit off, kneeling behind her and sweeping her hair up as she threw up the breakfast I’d made her this morning. I talked softly to her as her body convulsed, unable to take the news as I rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry,” I whispered.
She gasped for air and shook her head. “Don’t—don’t apologize for him ,” she seethed before throwing up some more. I continued to comfort her, soothing her, and when she was done, she rested her head on the toilet seat, breathing in and out through her nose.
I reached over, ripping the hand towel off the hook and leaning over her, gently wiping her mouth. She winced. “I can take care of this, Grayson. Go, please. You don’t need to see me like this.”
“Not going anywhere,” I murmured, setting the towel on the counter and grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste. She stayed where she was, brushing her teeth and spitting in the toilet bowl. When she was done, I placed the toothbrush back on the counter, unfazed.
“Come here,” I softly commanded, taking a seat behind her again. I pulled her away from the toilet, leaning back against the glass shower door, resting her back against my chest, her legs between mine.
“Grayson, I just puked my guts up—that isn’t something I want my boyfriend seeing,” she complained, trying to get up.
I pulled her back against my chest. “First of all, I’m a grown-ass man. I can handle some fucking puke. Second of all, I’m not your boyfriend. I’m your man. Don’t introduce me as your boyfriend, or I’ll shoot someone,” I warned her.
“Grays—”
“—when this shit is all over, assuming I don’t go to jail, I’m putting a fat ring on your finger and giving you my last name. Until I’m declared your husband, I’m your man. We clear on that?”
She twisted her neck, looking up at me. My chest warmed. She had no idea how much I loved her, but I was ready to spend the rest of my life showing her, proving myself to her. “What the hell did you just say?” The question came out breathless and soft, heat rising in her cheeks.
I didn’t mind repeating it. “I’m putting a fat ring on your finger—”
“No, not that.” She paused, heat blooming in her cheeks. “Though I do love that. I’m talking about the you going to jail part.”
I raised a brow. “Carrie, I broke into a federal prison and cut out your dad’s tongue.”
“You did what to my dad’s tongue?” she breathed, trying to sit up.
For fuck’s sake.
I scratched my beard. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I forgot to mention that part.”
She shot up from my chest, turning her upper body to me. “You forgot—Grayson, what the hell?”
“This is the time to remind you that two minutes ago, you wanted me to kill him,” I reminded her.
She opened her mouth and closed it several times before she threw her arms out. “I would like to be informed when you remove body parts from my family members.”
“Okay. I’ll send you a fucking email when I chop his hands off,” I muttered.
“Grayson!”
“Baby, what do you want me to say? The man fucking hurt you—tortured you for years and used you for his own gain. We were getting ready to leave, he’d given us the information we needed, and I was pissed and scared shitless.”
Her features softened.
I continued, throwing my hand out. “He was chained to a fucking desk, sitting three feet in front of me while my woman was God knows where. I wanted him to hurt, Carrie. So I took the thing he used to hurt you,” I declared, cupping her face. “I told you before: no one gets away with hurting you. No one.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of my apartment door crashing open cut her off.
Instantly, I pulled us both to our feet and shoved her behind me as I reached for the gun in the third drawer of the vanity, loading a bullet into the chamber before raising it to the doorway. Carrie was trembling behind me as I backed up, pressing her against the wall.
A second later, Jake’s voice boomed throughout the space. “Grayson! Get your ass in here!”
My shoulders sagged as I growled. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
A second voice called out for me, and I looked up to the ceiling as Carrie came around to my front. “Is that…?”
“Yeah.”
“ Grayson, you got five fucking seconds to show your fucking face! ” Jeremy Jones yelled.
Carrie looked to the doorway and back to me. “Is he here for me?”
I ran a hand down my face. “Probably.”
“How did he find out?” she breathed.
I rubbed my jaw. “The news about the prison break probably released,” I told her simply, putting my gun in the waistband of my pants. That made things even more complicated, and in the back of my mind, I knew we were fucked. There would be no favors to pull this time.
She grabbed my face then, her hand warm against my scar, dragging me back into the present. “He’s not here to kill you, is he?”
My lips twitched. “Jeremy Jones is a smart man. He knows better.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “You can’t kill him either.”
“Then, I suggest you get out there and lay down the rules for him. Because baby, he also doesn’t know what you mean to me.”
Realization dawned. “You never told him?”
I shook my head. “The last time I spoke to him was when I called him in your living room the night I met you. The night I let you go,” I told her.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured to herself, looking down. When she looked back up, she said, “I figured you told him.”
“You told me you wanted St. Louis to stay in the past. I kept it in the past.”
Her eyes shined with tears. “I love you so much.”
My lips twitched again. “Glad to hear it, Sunshine. Now, go tell Jones to play nice.”
I watched her walk away from me, my gut twisting painfully knowing that when it was all said and done, when Brandon was found, I might lose her forever.