Chapter 27-Micah #2
His bravado is fading. But I know his kind.
This guy’s like a rabid animal.
He’s spent too many years getting high on his own supply. Reason is no friend of his.
“I understand.”
“You don’t. But you will.”
Behind me I hear Benji herding the remaining men toward the back door to the alley.
Alex already has the van there.
“Out.”
Nobody argues.
Sawyer holds the exit open.
“Move!”
One by one they file past us.
Bruised.
Disarmed.
But not nearly broken enough for my peace of mind.
One of them looks at Sloane.
And that seals that asshole’s fate.
Sloane is crouched exactly where I left her.
Shaking.
Trying so hard not to.
I cross the room slowly this time.
No adrenaline.
No violence.
Just her.
A streak of someone else's blood marks her cheek.
My thumb brushes it away as gently as if she's made of blown glass.
“Princess.”
Her eyes fill immediately.
“You came.”
Confusion crosses my face.
“Of course I came.”
Like there had ever been another possibility.
Her knees finally give out.
I catch her before she can fall.
Again.
Always.
She folds against my chest, trembling.
I wrap both arms around her, turning my body so she's shielded from the wreckage surrounding us.
The room is almost silent now.
The only sounds left are dripping beer, shattered glass settling beneath heavy boots, and Sloane's breathing.
Short.
Uneven.
Each breath catches in her chest like she's fighting her own body for air.
My attention narrows until there's only her.
Everything else fades.
The wrecked bar.
The overturned tables.
The men limping toward the parking lot.
Sawyer talking quietly with one of the deputies pulling in outside.
Benji standing near the doorway, making damn sure none of those bastards decides to be stupid on the way out.
It all becomes background noise.
I kneel down with Sloane in my arms, and my fingers search my pocket.
See, I started to carry a spare the second we started whatever you wanna call this.
The inhaler slides into my palm.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like approaching a frightened animal. I grip it tight, but she flinches when I hold it up.
Not from me.
From everything.
Her hands are trembling so badly she can't seem to make them stop.
My chest aches.
I hate seeing her like this.
Without saying anything, I hold it to her lips.
“Princess.”
Her eyes finally meet mine.
Wide.
Glassy.
Still full of adrenaline.
Recognition replaces panic.
“Oh...”
She lets out a shaky breath.
“Th-thank you.”
Her fingers brush mine as she takes it.
Cold.
Shaking.
She uses it, closes her eyes for a long second, and slowly her breathing begins to even out.
Better.
Not perfect.
Better.
That's enough for now.
I wait.
I don't rush her.
I don't ask questions.
She'll talk when she's ready.
Or she won't.
Either way, I've got her.
“Come on.”
My voice comes out softer than I knew I was capable of.
“Let's go home.”
Home.
The word slips out naturally.
Like there's only ever been one place she belongs.
Before she can protest—or insist she's fine—I slide one arm beneath her knees and another around her back and I swing her back up in my embrace. She weighs next to nothing.
The fact I was almost too late tonight?
Fuck. That thought freezes me in place for one second.
I am so damn angry, I’m shaking with it.
I’m so fucking mad.
At myself.
Not her.
Never her.
She's everything to me.
“Micah? Take me home,” she says and that settles the rage for now.
She doesn't argue.
Doesn't tell me she's too heavy.
Doesn't apologize.
She simply curls against my chest and says take me home.
Her forehead settles beneath my chin.
One hand fists the front of my shirt.
Holding on.
Trusting me.
That trust settles somewhere deep inside my ribs.
Heavy.
Sacred.
Good.
I've got it.
I've got all of it.
She wraps one arm around my neck, her fingers bunching in the fabric of my shirt.
They're still shaking.
Every few steps I glance down at her.
She's exhausted.
Her breathing is steadier now thanks to the inhaler, but her eyes look glassy.
Adrenaline crash.
I've seen it before.
Too many times.
Only never on someone who mattered this much.
I carry her through the broken front doors of The Watering Hole.
The night air is cool against my skin.
Behind us, Sawyer and Benji are already moving.
No words.
No discussion.
They don't need them.
Sawyer starts righting overturned tables with the same efficiency he uses sorting cattle.
Alex disappears into the kitchen, checking every room.
Benji stoops to grab keys from where they'd landed near the register.
Our eyes meet for half a second.
He jerks his chin toward the parking lot.
I've got her.
He's got everything else.
Just like old times.
I keep walking.
My truck sits exactly where I left it.
Beside it, a large black van rumbles to life.
She lifts her head just enough to follow the sound.
Her brow furrows.
“Is...”
She blinks, still trying to piece together everything that's happened.
“Is that Benji?”
I follow her gaze.
“Yeah.”
She watches him pull her van out of its parking spot.
A tiny crease forms between her brows.
“What's he doing?”
“Don’t worry, Princess. He’s just got some things to do.”
She nods slowly.
Too worn out to question it.
Good.
She doesn't need to know the rest.
Not tonight.
Tonight is about getting her somewhere safe.
Getting her warm.
Getting her into my bed where nightmares don't stand a chance against me holding her.
Everything else? That's mine to deal with.
I settle her carefully into the passenger seat of my truck.
She starts to reach for the seat belt.
Her hand trembles.
I catch it gently.
“I got it.”
She gives me a tired little smile.
“I know.”
I pull the belt across her and click it into place.
Then I tuck a loose strand of red hair behind her ear.
She watches every movement.
Those beautiful brown eyes never leave my face.
“Micah?”
“Yeah, Princess?”
“What you told me tonight? When you said you loved me?”
“Yeah?”
“I thought you should know, I love you, too. And I-I wanted to say thank you for coming to get me. For saving me. Again.”
The words are barely louder than a whisper.
Like she's still trying to convince herself I'm real.
Like there had ever been another ending to tonight.
I cup her cheek.
“There wasn't anywhere else I was ever gonna be.”
She leans into my hand without thinking.
That tiny unconscious movement damn near undoes me.
I brush my thumb across her cheekbone once.
Then I close the truck door.
By the time I climb behind the wheel, she's already sinking into the seat.
I start the engine.
The headlights wash across the front of the bar.
Broken glass sparkles.
A chair lies splintered near the doorway.
Sawyer stands with his arms folded while he says something to Alex.
Then they look toward me.
Toward Sloane.
One nod.
That's all.
The kind of nod earned over years.
Go.
We'll handle it.
I don't nod back.
I don't need to.
We've been speaking this language since long before Jersey Iron Ranch existed.
Beside me, Sloane has drifted halfway to sleep, one hand still wrapped around the inhaler I'd pressed into it.
I reach across the console and lace my fingers through hers.
She squeezes back without opening her eyes.
See, those men walked into The Watering Hole looking for trouble.
Looking to settle a score over a debt Patrick owed them.
They thought they were predators.
Thought fear belonged to them.
They poison lives.
Destroy families.
Take whatever they want because no one has ever made them answer for it.
Somewhere along the way, they forgot what it meant to be human.
But what they don't understand...
What they never saw coming...
Is that there are things in this world a whole lot more dangerous than men like them.
They found one tonight.
A man with absolutely nothing left to lose when it comes to protecting the woman he loves.
I glance over at Sloane.
Safe.
Breathing easier.
Coming home with me.
Yeah, that’s what’s important.
She knows I love her.
And dear God, she said she loves me too.
Far as I am concerned that makes me hers. In every way.
And that’s all she needs to know.
The rest of what has to happen tonight?
She'll sleep through it.
Because later tonight, after she's home, safe, and tucked into our bed...
I'll be paying those bastards a visit.
By sunrise, they'll understand exactly why touching my woman was the worst mistake they ever made.
Too bad they won’t be around long enough to put that new understanding to use.
And by breakfast time, the world...
Will be a much better place.