10. CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 10
GRANT
Something is wrong.
I don’t know how I know, but I do.
Everything seems normal.
The living room light is still on, just as it was when I left. The light beside the front door is still lit.
The neighborhood is still quiet. A dog barks in the distance for a second, then stops. Somewhere down the street, a car door shuts.
I glance at my phone and there’s nothing new from Scarlett. No text to indicate there’s a problem.
But still. My gut is certain something is wrong.
I felt it as soon as I got out of my car.
Speeding up my pace, I hurry to the front door. But instead of knocking right away, I take a moment to just listen. To observe. Assess. To do what I learned in the Navy, to use all my senses to search for any possible threat.
And to follow my gut. On my team, we never doubted that gut feeling .
Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe Scarlett will come to the door—she has a Ring doorbell, it would tell her I’m here—wondering why in the world I’m standing here instead of knocking.
But then I hear something.
It’s Jasper; faintly barking. Which is odd, because he’s not a barker; he’ll give excited little yips when he sees a squirrel on his walks, but that’s about it. And it’s muffled, so I know he’s not right at the front door, or even out back, but somewhere inside.
Did Scarlett get hurt? Is that why Jasper’s barking?
A band of worry wraps around my chest.
My rational brain tells me not to panic. It could be nothing. It’s probably nothing.
Even so, when I knock at the door, it’s faster and louder than usual.
Nothing.
No footsteps inside heading towards the door.
She could just be in the bedroom. The bathroom. Maybe she decided to take a quick shower.
I knock again.
Nothing.
Then.
Something thuds inside. And I hear a tiny yelp.
Shit .
Something’s wrong.
I need to get inside .
A primal, protective instinct tells me to kick in the door. Break a window.
But then I remember. Scarlett has a smart lock—Cole insisted on installing it when she moved in—and she gave me the code so I could let out Jasper that day she had an emergency at work and couldn’t get home. I memorized it then, and I haven’t forgotten it.
Under normal circumstances, I would never just let myself in, but now I don’t hesitate.
Seconds later, I’m inside, and I know my gut was right.
Jasper is still barking, but it’s from behind a closed door.
I move towards the hallway and call out, “Scarlett? Are you okay?”
Every muscle in my body is tense. Cold foreboding settles over me.
Then.
A scuffling sound. Another soft yelp.
A man’s voice. Low. Rough. Threatening.
Scarlett.
Fear surges, but I tamp it down.
Silent-footed, I head down the hallway. Past the little bedroom Scarlett uses as a library, where Jasper is barking. Past the hall closet.
Scarlett’s bedroom door is closed, and the sounds are coming from behind it .
Even though I want to crash through the door, I open it silently instead. Any enemy is better taken by surprise than given a warning.
Then I see it.
The man. Straddling Scarlett on the floor. One hand over her mouth, the other grabbing at her breast.
She’s crying. Bleeding.
This rage.
Fury.
White-hot.
He’s hurting Scarlett.
I don’t know if he has a weapon, and at this moment, I don’t care.
I’m the weapon here.
There’s no thought involved as I fly at him, roaring, “GET OFF HER!”
It’s all instinct honed by years of training.
I catch a glimpse of Scarlett’s face as I tear the man off her, and my fury erupts into an inferno. She’s hurt. Terrified. Sobbing.
As badly as I want to go to her; first, this monster.
He tries to fight back, but he doesn’t have a chance. Not against me.
In seconds, he’s unconscious on the floor, and it’s taking everything in me not to kill him.
No one would blame me. And the world would be better off.
I’m shaking with rage, closer to losing control than I’ve ever been .
Then Scarlett whimpers, and I lock it down again.
Scarlett. She needs me.
Shit. I need to restrain this asshole first. But with what?
As I glance around the room, I spot several of Scarlett’s fabric scarves hanging from the back of her door. Yes . “Hang on, baby,” I tell Scarlett as I leap up to grab one. “I just have to tie him up, okay? Just hang on for a second.”
My heart is racing as I quickly hog-tie the attacker’s wrists and ankles tightly behind him. Fear claws at me as frantic questions rush through my head. How badly is Scarlett hurt? What did he do to her? He was touching her, does that mean he—
Shit.
I sprint back over to Scarlett and kneel beside her. Close up, she looks even worse. One eye is almost swollen shut, the skin around it a deep, violent red. Her eyebrow is split open and blood streaks across her face and into her hair.
She’s still sobbing quietly, these terrible sounds that make me want to get up and punch the guy a few more times. And she’s hunched into herself, clutching one arm to her chest, shaking so badly I’m afraid she’s going into shock.
“Baby,” I croon, trying to sound as calm as possible when I feel anything but. “It’s going to be okay.” Yanking my phone out of my pocket, I quickly dial 911 and put it on speaker before setting it on the floor. As it rings, I ask Scarlett, “Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”
“Grant,” she chokes out, and starts crying harder. “Everything hurts. ”
Shit. Shit.
“Okay, baby. I’m just going to touch you. Tell me what hurts. Alright? I’ll be so gentle. I promise.”
She looks up at me, tears swimming in her eyes. Judging from her dilated pupils and unfocused gaze, I suspect a minor concussion, at least. Hopefully nothing worse.
Her voice is small and wobbly. “I was hoping I could hold on until you got here.”
The 911 dispatcher answers, and I immediately recognize who it is. Gloria is one of our most experienced dispatchers and before she can finish her greeting, I cut her off. “Gloria. It’s Grant. I’m at Scarlett Kirkland’s house on 34 Lewiston Drive. She was attacked in her home. I’m checking her for injuries right now. The intruder is unconscious and restrained.”
There’s a stunned silence for a second. Then Gloria says crisply, “Okay, Grant. I’ll get everyone over there right away.”
I’m running my hands over Scarlett’s body as I report possible injuries to Gloria, knowing she can relay them to the firefighters and paramedics who are on their way over. When I touch Scarlett’s obviously dislocated shoulder, she lets out a low cry and my heart wrenches painfully. “I’m so sorry. Help is coming. We’ll get you fixed up before you know it.”
The attacker moans from several feet away, and I jerk my head to look at him. “Don’t even think about it,” I growl. “Because if you try anything, I will kill you.”
“Grant.” Scarlett touches my arm. “Jasper. Where is he?”
“In the library. I heard him barking away in there. ”
“Please.” Her voice cracks. “Will you check on him?”
Shit.
My heart.
“I will, baby.” In the distance, the rise and fall of sirens approaches. “As soon as the police get here, I’ll check on him. Okay?”
She nods at me, still crying. “You won’t leave, will you? You’ll stay with me?”
“Of course.” I kiss her uninjured cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I can’t stop seeing it.
All of it.
Scarlett’s beautiful face, all swollen and bruised and bloody, streaks of red staining her golden hair.
Her poor shoulder, dislocated from when that piece of garbage attacked her.
The look in her eyes, so filled with terror.
That man on top of Scarlett, grabbing at her.
Her clothes were all intact and she told me in the ambulance he didn’t get a chance to do anything worse, but that he even touched her…
It’s never been this difficult to contain my anger before .
I’ve always been able to shove my emotions back to deal with later. Even in the most dangerous and stressful of situations, I could compartmentalize.
But now?
My emotions are bouncing around wildly—pinballs careening around in my head. Rage. Fear. Worry. Guilt.
And then there are the what-ifs.
What if I hadn’t left Scarlett’s house to begin with? I could have just stayed and gone home extra early in the morning to let Wilson out instead. Then the intruder would never have gotten a chance to touch Scarlett.
Or what if that just meant he came another night, one when I was at the station instead? Would Scarlett have been able to call for help? Or would I have failed her in the cruelest form of irony?
What if I’d stayed at my house with Wilson a few minutes longer? Taken a quick shower, like I was considering? By the time I got to Scarlett’s, she could have been—
Shit.
I feel nauseous thinking about it.
And it’s not just the what-ifs, but the terrifying questions I’m waiting to have answered.
Like if Scarlett is going to be okay.
Well. Not okay —how can she be, after being attacked and hurt and traumatized—but not more badly injured than she appeared to be when I examined her. She definitely has a dislocated shoulder and a concussion and more bruises than I could count. Those are painful conditions, but she’ll heal from them in time. It’s the other things I couldn’t see that scare me.
There could be internal bleeding. A skull fracture. A hematoma. Just because Scarlett was alert and speaking at the house and in the ambulance doesn’t mean she couldn’t have gotten worse since then.
Fuck.
It’s hard to breathe past this fear.
And I’m helpless to do anything about it. All I can do is sit here, waiting for news and praying I didn’t get there too late.
The hands on the clock in the waiting room are taunting me. Every time I look at them, it’s like they’re moving in reverse. Five minutes seems to take an hour to pass. Doctors keep passing by the waiting room, but none of them come in.
Memories of Zack keep sneaking in, though I try to push them away. His mangled body. All of us huddled around him, telling him to hang on. Those moments at the hospital when we thought, maybe. Just maybe, against all odds, he’ll make it. And then the grim-faced doctor delivering the terrible news that our friend—our brother—was gone.
Shit.
I can’t lose Scarlett. Not now. Not when we’re just getting started. Not when she’s the first woman I’ve ever imagined a future with.
“Shit.” I jump up from my seat again, starting another anxious cycle around the room. “Why is this taking so damn long?”
“I know it feels that way.” Empathy is written all over Ian’s face. “But it’s been less than an hour. You know how this works. X-rays. Ultrasounds. It takes time.”
“It shouldn’t,” I snap. “Not unless they found something—”
“Grant.” Rising from his seat, Ian crosses the room to come to my side. His tone is enviably calm. “Stop. I know how this feels. Trust me. But you examined Scarlett at her house. You were in the ambulance with Ben and Ryan. Did any of you see an indication of something more serious?”
I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “No. But—” Scarlett’s bruised and bloodied face flashes in front of me again. “You saw what he did to her. How terrified she was. Hurt. And she asked me to stay with her. What if she thinks I left?”
“She doesn’t.” Ian holds my gaze. “And as soon as you can, you’ll see her.”
Another doctor passes by the doorway but doesn’t come in. I grind my teeth and mutter, “Are any of the damn doctors here actually helpful?”
“We’ll find out something soon.” Ian’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out to glance at the screen. After a few seconds, he says, “It’s Rose. She wants to know what she can do to help.”
“I’m not sure yet.” So much is uncertain. Scarlett’s injuries. How long she’ll have to stay in the hospital. What she needs to help her recuperate. “Once we hear more about Scarlett’s condition… ”
He gives me a quick chin lift. “Of course.” After a short text exchange, Ian adds, “She said Ari and Thea are ready to do anything. Clean up Scarlett’s house, bring over food, and you know they’ll want to bring gifts.”
“That would be nice. When she’s ready.” Hopefully soon.
My own phone vibrates from where I left it on my chair, and I hurry over to pick it up. Not that it’s going to give me the information I really want, not unless the doctors here have suddenly started giving patient updates via text, but it could still be something important.
Just got Jasper settled at your place. He seems fine. I’ll hang here with Wilson and Jasper until you get back.
A tiny weight falls off my shoulders. “Dave’s at my place,” I tell Ian. “He’s with Wilson and Jasper. Thankfully, Jasper is okay. Scarlett was so worried.”
To Dave, I send a quick reply.
Thanks. I really appreciate it.
Ian nods. “That’s good. One less thing for Scarlett to worry about.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “She was so concerned—”
“Grant! Ian!” Maya comes rushing into the waiting room with Cole right on her heels. Her eyes pink and watery, it’s clear she’s been crying, and her pretty features are tight with worry. “I don’t understand.” Her words come out in a rush. “Scarlett was attacked? In her house? By who? How badly is she hurt? ”
Cole looks outwardly calm, but there’s a banked anger simmering in his gaze. “Grant.” He lifts his chin. “Thanks for calling us.”
“Of course.” It was the first thing I did once I got to the hospital.
Maya’s lips are trembling as she looks at me. “You stopped the guy? He was hurting Scar? Is she okay? What happened? Have you talked to a doctor yet? Can I see her?”
“Honey.” Cole takes Maya’s hand, cupping it between his. “Calm down. Let Grant talk. Okay?”
A few tears spill down her cheeks as she nods at him. “Okay.”
As soon as we’re all seated, Maya’s attention turns back to me. “Have you heard anything? Can we see her?”
With gritted teeth, I tell her, “Not yet.” My gaze sneaks to that damned clock on the wall. It’s been almost an hour and a half since Scarlett arrived, and still nothing.
Cole meets my gaze. “You said she has a dislocated shoulder and a concussion?”
“Definitely. Some bruising. Possibly a fractured cheekbone.” My molars grind painfully. “But she was alert. Talking. Worried about Jasper.”
Maya pales. “Jasper.” She glances at Cole. “If something happened to Jasper, she’ll be crushed.”
“He’s okay. One of the other firefighters, Dave—he brought Jasper to my place. So Jasper is hanging out with Wilson and Dave until I get back there. ”
“Jasper isn’t hurt?” She sags. “Oh. Good. But—” Voicing catching, she pauses before continuing. “Scarlett. What if something worse happened? What if she’s—”
“Maya.” It’s gentle, a contradiction to the tight set of Cole’s jaw. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”
Teeth worrying her lip, her expression goes pensive. Suddenly, she blurts, “Oh, God. I need to call her brothers. Her dad. They need to know—”
“I’ll take care of it.” Cole kisses Maya’s cheek. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it.”
As Cole steps out to make his calls, the rest of us fall into silence; everyone caught in their own tangled thoughts.
After a few minutes, Maya blurts out, “The doctor won’t tell us. We’re not family. I mean, I am, practically. She’s Clara’s godmother. We’ve known each other for almost twenty years. But—”
“Are you here for Scarlett Kirkland?”
Finally— finally —a doctor comes into the room. He’s slightly rumpled, his white coat wrinkled and marked with an ink stain, his longish hair standing in five different directions, but his expression is utterly confident.
“Yes,” Maya answers quietly. “We’re here for Scarlett.”
The doctor scans the room, his gaze lingering on me and Ian. “And which of you is Miss Kirkland’s fiancé?”
“That’s me.” I lean forward in my seat. “Scarlett’s my fiancée.”
Yes, I lied about it. But it was Ian’s idea. And I don’t regret it. I promised Scarlett I’d stay with her, and if lying about being engaged is the way to do it, I have no problem with it.
And anyway. We could be engaged. One day. Hypothetically.
Maya shoots me a quick look, her brows shooting to her forehead, but she doesn’t call me out on it.
“I’m Doctor Ellison.” The doctor nods briskly, meeting my gaze. “You’re the one who stopped the attack, I understand?”
“Yes.”
“Well.” A small smile appears. “She’s very lucky to have you. And Miss Kirkland is going to be okay. She has a minor concussion and a dislocated shoulder that needed reduction, and there’s some bruising that’s going to be pretty painful for the next few days. But she’ll make a full recovery.”
“Oh.” All the air in my lungs comes out in a whoosh. “She’s really going to be okay?”
“Yes. I’d like to keep her overnight for observation, and she’s going to need to take it easy for a couple of weeks, at least. But she’s going to be okay.”
Maya is sniffling beside me, and Cole puffs out a relieved sigh. Ian claps my shoulder and murmurs, “I told you she’d be fine.”
I stand up and extend my hand to the doctor. “Thank you. Truly.”
He clasps my hand and gives it a quick shake. “Of course.”
“Can I see her? I promised Scarlett I’d stay with her.” Emotion makes my throat thick. “I don’t want her to be alone. Not now. ”
The doctor smiles again. “She’s just getting settled in a room. But I think, given everything, it would be helpful if you were there.” His gaze lands on a now-crying Maya. “In another hour, the rest of you can see her.”
“Thank you.” Another weight drops away. “Can I see her now?”
“Yes.” He gestures for me to follow him. “I’ll tell the nurse you’re allowed to go in.”
Before I leave the room, I give Maya a quick hug. “I’ll tell her you’re here. That you’ll be in to see her soon.”
Maya wipes the tears from her eyes, then lifts her chin and narrows her eyes at me. “Her fiancé, hmm?”
My cheeks go hot. “It seemed like a good idea.”
She stares at me for a second. Then her lips quirk. “It’s okay. I’m glad you did. And for the record. I like it.”
It’s funny. I kind of like calling Scarlett my fiancée, too.