Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
ALEX
I stalk toward the beach house, my heart pounding, my instincts ready for war.
I should never have agreed to this. What if he’s hurt her already? I’ll never forgive myself for putting my woman in harm’s way. Tori’s too damn stubborn and fierce for her own good. I walk onto the back porch, ducking under a window and moving to the glass sliding doors.
The curtains are drawn, but there’s a crack through which I can just about make out Monica tied to a chair, the edge of the couch—and my woman’s legs jostling around. Fucking hell. Is he going to…
I can’t even think of it.
I need to slow down and formulate a plan.
That all goes out the window when I hammer my fist into the door. The glass shatters into pieces, cutting into my hands. I leap into the house, letting out a roar when I see what the bastard is going to do.
He must’ve drugged Tori. She lies on the couch, her eyes closed. The prick has already taken off her shoes and socks.
He spins to me, picking up the gun from the coffee table and aiming wildly. I bellow, throwing myself at him. The gunshot is so loud my eardrums start ringing.
Fire pulses in my arm as the bullet grazes me, but I don’t stop. He fires again, missing this time, and then I’m on him.
He roars when I grab his wrist, wrenching it vigorously, twisting his one remaining good hand. I grip his shoulders and turn, throwing him across the room. He crashes through the coffee table.
I leap on him, seeing red, bringing my fist down in a blow that might’ve killed him if the rat didn’t quickly roll to the side. He takes a blade from his boot, whining in agony as he forces his shattered wrist to function just enough for him to aim the knife at me.
He stabs me through the calf, causing me to stumble, and then scrambles to his feet, scuttling toward the door. I ignore the pain in my leg and my arm and chase after him.
There’s no damn way I’m letting him go after the shit he just pulled.
He runs down the beach, but I move faster. I don’t care about the blood soaking my sweatpants, making them stick to my legs. He was going to hurt my woman. I can’t even think of it. He was going to take something from her. He has no right.
When he realizes I’m catching up, he turns, holding the knife out.
“I’ll slit your throat, you fuck,” he roars. “Back off.”
“If you drop the knife, I might let you live,” I growl. “But if you go for me again after everything you’ve done, it’s over for you.”
“I should’ve gutted that little shit instead of playing a prank,” he snaps. “And I should’ve stabbed that fat bitch the second she walked through the door!”
Hot rage blurs my vision. So he tampered with Elliot’s bike. And he just called my woman the F word. That’s unacceptable.
I jump on him. He screams like a scared little girl and thrusts the knife at me. It punctures my shoulder and stays there, embedded in my arm. I don’t even feel the pain with the adrenaline pumping through me, though I’m sure I’ll be feeling it tomorrow. I grab his arm, spin him around, tossing him to the ground again.
This man just doesn’t know when to quit. He tries to crawl away from me, but I don’t give him a chance, bringing my foot down between his shoulder blades. I feel his weak body buckle. I pull the knife from my shoulder and lean down, bringing it to his throat.
I’m ready to kill him, to drench the sand with his blood, ready to end his mongrel life for daring to hurt my woman or nephew.
“Please,” he begs. “Puh-please.”
“It’s too late for that?—”
“Hey, leave him alone!” somebody yells, jolting me from the moment.
I look up to find a group of passersby watching me, one of them with their phone to their ear.
“We’re calling 911,” they yell.
“Good,” I call over. “Tell them we’ll be waiting for them. You’re coming with me, you bastard. You’re not getting away again. And I need to check on my woman.”
I bash Damien in the side of the head with the hilt of the knife, causing him to fall unconscious. Then I pick him up, toss him over my good shoulder, and walk back toward the house.
About two hours later, I sit at Tori’s bedside in the hospital, checking on her vitals. My colleagues tried to insist that I let them take the lead, but I wanted to be the one to get my woman healthy again. I hate myself for ever leaving her side, for causing her to end up here.
Gray assures me that all is quiet at home, Elliot is safely asleep in his bed, and Catelina’s there in case he wakes up.
Monica sighs from the corner of the room. “This is my fault,” she murmurs.
“You didn’t know what he was going to do, ma’am,” I say firmly.
“Maybe not specifically,” she replies. “But I had a feeling it would be bad when I broke things off. I just never expected him to, and when he did, when he was gone, I didn’t think his son would come after us.”
“He’s in jail now. And he’ll be in prison for a long damn time. Kidnapping, assault, drugging Tori. He’s not going to bother you or your daughter ever again. And if he does, I’ll be there to set him straight.”
Monica sniffles. “Tori couldn’t have found a better man.”
“I second that,” Tori says quietly, opening her eyes.
I clutch her hand, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank God you’re awake.”
“Is everybody okay?” she croaks. “Elliot?”
That touches me more than she can ever know. “He’s safe,” I reassure her. “He’s with Catelina and the security detail. Damien is under arrest. He was ranting and raving when the police turned up, threatening to stab and shoot me again. He admitted his plans for you, too.”
My tone grows dark when I think about what his ultimate goal was: the sick bastard.
“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him,” I snarl.
Tori sits up.
“Hey, take it easy,” I murmur.
She looks at me stubbornly. “You said he shot and stabbed you?”
I nod. “A grazing flesh wound to the shoulder, a stab to the other shoulder, and one to the leg. But don’t worry about me. I’m not leaving your side until that filth is out of your system.”
“But—”
“No arguments. I would’ve taken the entire magazine of bullets to keep you safe, my perfect poet.”
She smiles, tears filling her beautiful eyes. “If we’re finally settling on nicknames, how does ‘perfect protector’ sound?”
“I didn’t protect you as well as I should have. I let that prick drug you.”
“Hush,” she says. “We’re safe, Alex. You saved us.”
Monica joins us at the bedside, taking her daughter’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Tori. About everything. About the way I’ve been since your father’s passing: all the men, all the drama, all the mess. I’m done with it. I’m done living for myself. From now on, I’m going to be better.”
“You’ve made mistakes, Mom. Everybody has. But I still love you. That’s never changed, and it never will.”