Chapter Thirty-Seven
Cal
A s soon as we pull onto the gun range property, a sick sense of dread sucks my breath out of my lungs. Something bad has happened to her. I can feel it. There are two vehicles in front of the small building that’s lit up from the inside. One of them is Ryan’s car.
Fuck.
I pull up in front of the building, barely throwing the truck into park before I’m leaping out, bat in hand. The guys all pile out after me, the five of us starting inside. Roan rushes in first. I stop dead in my tracks when I hear something. Abandoning the guys as they rush in, I take off around the side of the building.
Not thirty feet from the building, I see something I’ll never be able to forget until the day I die. Michael’s white ass flexing. Mauling my fucking girl .
I fly like an avenging angel, cutting through the snowy terrain like it’s nothing.
Slam!
I swing the bat like this motherfucker is a baseball and I’m trying to hit him out of the park. The crack echoes loudly and he grunts, falling off to the side of her. Rage consumes me as I swing again. Again and again. I beat the fuck out of his face with the baseball bat until reality sets back in.
Charlotte.
Fuck.
My sweet girl.
I drop my bat, leaping over to her. She’s face down, her naked ass on display, bright red blood in the snow around her face.
She’s not moving.
Oh my God.
I yank her out of the snow and into my arms. Her head lolls to the side, exposing a huge gash in her neck.
No! No! No!
I scoop her up and run her into the building. A sob rattles from my throat as I fall just inside the door, frantically trying to cover the giant hole in her neck that oozes blood.
“Help,” I croak out. “Help.”
Hollis and Roan appear out of nowhere, snapping into action like they’ve been trained to do. Hollis is barking out orders and yelling at Jordy and Trey to hold onto me. I fight them, reaching for my lifeless girl, but they’re too strong. All I can do is stare at her, with tears streaming down my face as they try to help her.
Blood loss. Didn’t hit a major artery. Warm her up.
The words Hollis is saying to Roan aren’t computing in my brain. All I can do is fixate on the blood. Her blue lips. The pasty white color of her thighs that are beginning to bruise.
“C-Cover her up,” I choke out.
They aren’t too concerned about her nakedness as their focus is on her neck, so Trey releases me to crouch down. He pulls her pants back up. They put him to work, helping.
A groan comes from the back room.
No fucking way.
I tear out of Jordy’s grip, leaping over the scene before me to get to that piece of shit. Jordy is hot on my heels, but my legs are longer. I run into the breakroom to find Ryan fucking Cuntingham writhing on the floor, his dick hanging out and holding his eyes.
Claws.
My fucking girl has claws.
Pride surges through me at her fight as I pounce on this monster. Jordy doesn’t stop me. I pin Ryan down, slamming a fist hard into face. His nose pops the second it breaks. He sobs and struggles, but he’s no match for my rage.
He hurt my girl.
He hurt my girl.
He hurt my girl.
Punch after punch, I lay into him, desperate to turn his face into a fucking pulp. Ryan’s breathing becomes ragged and shallow with each punch I land on him.
Time passes.
I grow weak, my punching slowing, but I don’t stop. The muscles in my bicep and forearm scream in pain. Each one of my knuckles is split and burning. Still, I continue beating him.
Voices grow louder.
Chaotic.
I don’t stop until someone finally pulls me away. I’m spent of energy. I want to fight this person off, but I can’t. All I can do is fall against them, a sob of defeat caught in my throat.
“Shhh, son,” the man says. “It’s okay. Calm down. You’re okay.”
People rush in to help Ryan. This sets me off. I scream and rage, trying to get to that monster, but the person holding me is too strong.
“He needs to die,” I choke out, tears leaking shamelessly from my eyes. “He needs to die.”
“Fitzgerald,” one of the EMT says, “get him out of here.”
I’m hauled up off the floor and dragged out of the room. I can’t keep my own body upright, relying on Fitzgerald to do it for me. Trey and Jordy loom nearby, somber expressions on their faces.
“Charlotte,” I whisper. “Where is she?”
“She’s in an ambulance, son,” Fitzgerald says in a calm voice. “Let them take care of her.”
“She’s alive?”
Both Trey and Jordy nod in unison.
Thank fuck.
“Let’s get you into the car,” Fitzgerald rumbles. “We can get all this sorted out quickly at the station. Then you can get to the hospital to see your girl.”
My fucking girl.
“I, uh, I need my dad,” I croak out, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by sights and sounds. Like my world is closing in on me.
“David Hutton has been a thorn in my ass for the past hour,” Fitzgerald states with a small chuckle. “Your dad is already there, waiting on us. Everything’s going to be okay, son. I promise you.”
As he leads me out of the building, an officer approaches. A woman.
“Michael Cunningham is in critical condition.”
Fitzgerald grunts. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“He raped my girl. He raped my girl,” I murmur, leaning against him. “He raped my girl.”
“I know, son. I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t make me go to prison. She needs me.”
“I already let one kid go to prison for protecting the one he loved. I’ll be goddamned if I let it happen again. Just keep quiet and let me handle things.”
“Oh, honey,” Mom coos, “I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”
I try to pull my aching hand from her lap, but she won’t let me. It’s been hours since I was taken to the station where my parents were waiting. It was a total shitshow considering it was one of their cops who did this to Charlotte. I’d been told to keep my mouth shut while Samantha did all the talking. Apparently, Fitzgerald reported that the damages to Michael and Ryan were considered “self-defense” inflicted by the victim and that I threw a few punches to protect the victim. The bat—which Trey scooped up and tossed in the truck—and my broken hand were left out of the report. Dad warned me I could be looking at aggravated assault charges, based on our Oregon laws, but Fitzgerald wasn’t having any of it.
“I need to see her,” I murmur, my eyes drooping with exhaustion.
“She’s fine,” Mom assures me. “Garrett already called your dad with an update. They’ve put her in a room, but she’s going to be okay. Why don’t we get your hand looked at first?”
“No.”
She sighs. “Stubborn boy. Fine. You can see her. Five minutes, but then you need to be seen.”
I don’t agree because I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave Charlotte’s side when I finally see her. The ride to the hospital is a blur. Dad talks to Samantha on Bluetooth, as she fills him in on how we will proceed going forward in case Michael or Ryan speak out against me, and Mom hugs me in the back seat. When we arrive, I stumble out of the car and rush inside.
The lobby is full of people I recognize. The Hornets. Loden. Penny and Sonya. Hollis. Jace. Ms. Frazier with a sleeping Sebban in her arms. Kelsey’s man, Mike. The only people missing are Charlotte and her parents.
“He’s going to break his other hand if he doesn’t get to see that girl,” Dad states, trotting in after me.
Hollis nods and then disappears. A few moments later, he returns with Kelsey.
“You can go on back,” Kelsey tells me, pulling me in for a hug. “Maybe Garrett can look at that hand too.”
Hollis clutches my elbow and leads me to a room. He’s still covered in her blood like I am. The fact that he flew into motion to save his sister— my fucking girl —just won him ultimate hero Hornet status in my book. I grab the back of his head, bumping our foreheads together.
“Thank you,” I grunt out, before releasing him.
I push into the hospital room, making a beeline straight for the bed where Garrett stands over her.
Using my good hand, I take her small hand in mine. “I’m so, so sorry.”
My sweet Charlotte is battered nearly beyond recognition. Her head and neck are wrapped in gauze. Both of her eyes are blackened and her nose is swollen from what looks like a punch to the face. Anger at those motherfuckers has my eyes flooding with tears. I want to kill Michael and Ryan both. Smashing their fucking faces in isn’t enough.
“She’s going to need a lot of rest,” Garrett says, frowning at her. “A lot of support. What they did…” His voice shakes.
“She’s strong,” I remind him, my voice fierce with conviction. “She’s fucking strong.”
Garrett’s nostrils flare and he nods. “Fire in her veins. My girl is a fighter.”
“Is she in a lot of pain?”
“They have her pretty sedated and comfortable,” Garrett assures me. “Thankfully, she’s mostly bruised and suffered superficial lacerations. A few stitches in her head from the crowbar they whacked her with that was uncovered in the snow not far from where you found her purse. Concussion. Bruised ribs. The worst of it was the laceration to her neck.” He lets out a rush of air. “It’ll leave a horrible scar, but the angle he cut along was just far back enough that he missed her carotid. It tore along her sternocleidomastoid muscle, but they were able to easily repair it.”
I reach out to touch her forehead, but wince in pain.
“Let me see that hand,” Garrett grunts, walking around the bed to my side. He gently pulls it into his hands. “So this is the weapon that caused all that damage?”
“I wish I’d killed them,” I snarl.
His eyes lock on mine. “You fucked them up. Bad.”
“I hope they’re both in agony.”
“Ryan lost both eyes,” Garrett tells me. “But from what the guys tell me, that happened when Charlotte was defending herself.”
Good girl.
“The shattered eye sockets, crushed cheekbones, and cracked mandible were all you. The missing teeth were all you.” His lips press into a firm line. “He’s lucky if he ever recovers. He’s been in surgery for at least six hours. It’ll be a long road to recovery for him.”
I still wish he were dead.
“What about Michael?”
“He’s in a medically induced coma until the swelling goes down on his brain from his fractured skull.” He scrubs his palm over his face. “If he wakes, they’ll transport him straight to OHP.”
I hope he fucking dies a vegetable, though prison for a dirty, rapist cop might also mean certain death.
“This hand is broken,” Garrett finally says. “If you promise to go get it taken care of, I promise I’ll call for you if she wakes up. You’re no use to her all fucked up yourself. Can you do that?”
I don’t want to leave her, but my hand is swelling too badly. I know I’ll need to deal with it sooner or later.
“I can do that.” Leaning forward, I kiss Charlotte’s lips. “I’ll be back, Charlie girl.”