29. Sawyer
29
SAWYER
D ark rage consumes me. My hand squeezes around this young punk’s throat, and I want to crush his windpipe. I just might do it, too.
The way his eyes pop gives me some semblance of satisfaction, but a soft touch on my arm draws me back. Ginger says my name, but the rush of seeing this animal pawing at her has me growling. My fingers convulse with the promise to eliminate such a worthless piece of shit.
“Stop it.” Her voice again brings me back. “He’s not worth it.”
It takes a second for me to acknowledge the truth of that. Finally, I release our new hire and feel the corner of my mouth lift as he hacks and wheezes to catch his breath.
Kaleb cannot deny that I could kill him with my bare hands. The flare of wanting to has my hands clenching into fists at my side.
“Get your shit and get out,” I say loud enough that he can hear me through his struggling coughs. “You’re fired.”
Kaleb glances at Ginger with his water eyes, hishand covering his throat with another cough.
“Don’t look at her.” My voice lowers, and I must sound menacing because he flinches and nods. I tower over him until he scampers away.
Firing people is not usually part of my job, but I will not stand for that kind of violent disrespect of anyone here. Especially not Ginger.
I turn, following him with my gaze until he disappears from sight, then I catch the tears overflowing in Ginger’s eyes, and my heart seizes.
Reaching for her only has her taking a step back and shaking her head.
Jackson marches through the front door with all of the authority he typically has on the job. “What just happened in here? Why is our new hire running away with his tail tucked between his legs?”
He stops, just as I did when his gaze lands on Ginger and her tears. My brother is fighting the same instinct I am—the one that screams to hold her. But that won’t soothe her just now.
I hold my hand up to him, and he gets it.
“What happened?” His question is softer this time.
Ginger wipes under her eyes, takes a deep breath, and shakes her head before she marches up the stairs.
Everything inside of me screams to follow her. To not let her out of my sight. But if she needs a moment, I can give it to her. Even if it kills me.
Once she’s out of earshot, I meet Jackson’s gaze. “That punk assaulted Ginger.”
The deadly emotions I felt upon seeing it flash over my brother’s face. His hands clench at his sides, and his jaw clenches.
“She kept me from killing him right here.” I suck in a breath through my nose because I still want to kill him. Albeit slower now that I’ve had time to think about it.
“Tell me exactly what you saw.” He grinds out the words between his teeth, starting at where Ginger disappeared upstairs.
Jackson’s face gets redder and redder as I slow down to offer every detail. Best to get things straight now for when I have to make a statement to the police.
Because I will. The moment she is safe and feeling less vulnerable, I will nail that bastard to the wall.
When I finish, I stomp toward the stairs, pausing to calm myself down before climbing them. Jackson is on my heels. In the doorway to her office, I pause.
Ginger is stuffing things in her bag and her briefcase. Her cheeks are red and wet from crying. She peers up at us briefly before sniffling and pulling open her desk drawers.
“Sorry, but I quit. I can’t do this anymore.” Those words slice through me.
How could we let this happen to her? I clench my hands to keep from reaching out for her. She doesn’t need me to manhandle her right now, even if all I want to do is hold her until she feels safe.
“I’m driving you home,” I say.
Jackson bristles behind me, like he wants to fight her leaving. Now is not the time to try to convince her to stay.
Shaking her head, Ginger snaps her briefcase closed. “No. I can drive myself.”
I let the fury wash through me again before I let it go. “I’m driving you home.”
Because the last thing I need is for something else to happen to her. Being distracted will only increase that risk.
She meets my gaze, and she must see where my thoughts went because her shoulders deflate. “Fine.”
Looking around the room one last time, she huffs a sigh and nods. “I’m ready.”
I let her take the lead and meet Jackson’s gaze one more time. “Call Bentley.”
Jackson nods. He probably would have done so without my suggestion, but it feels better to have said it. Kaleb needs to be reported to the police. And Bentley is our local sheriff, a long-time friend of ours and the Thatchers.
I trail behind Ginger, trying not to crowd her, and I’m surprised when she lets me settle her bags in the back of the cab and close her in the passenger side of my truck.
Sitting in silence for a moment has me itching to crawl out of my skin. I’m usually a fan of silence, especially with Ginger so close, but the tension swelling in here is like torture.
“What happened before I got there?” It’s too soon for the question. I know that, but I can’t hold it back any longer.
“You know what happened. The details don’t matter.”
Closing my eyes, I take a slow, deep breath to calm the rage simmering inside of me. “They do matter.”
After a beat, I start the truck and pull us out of the neighborhood.
When I glance over at her again before pulling onto the main road, I find fresh tears wetting her cheeks.
Fuck .
My fingers grip the wheel. I want to slam my fist against it but refrain. She doesn’t need to see this side of me. It takes a lot to provoke me to anger, and I am furious.
The silence stretches for a minute until we make it to the highway. Her voice comes out small and soft. “You would have killed him if I hadn’t stopped you.”
“Yes.”
The hum of my tires over the highway creates background noise as I imagine fifty ways to get rid of that punk’s body. I could still do it.
“Even though I brought it on myself…”
“No. You did not bring it on yourself.”
“Get off of it, Sawyer. I know what I am. I got my job through nepotism. Got paid to wear that darling little costume. I flirt with every man on site. I’m sleeping with my three bosses. It’s no wonder the men there think I’m the company whore.”
My teeth grind together so hard that I’m going to crack my molars. “Is that what he told you?”
Her arms fold across her chest, and she peers out of her window to avoid looking at me.
“Ginger.” The growl in my voice sounds so harsh, so menacing that I flinch.
She does, too. A little hitch in her breath tells me if fresh tears aren’t already spilling down her cheeks, they’d be on their way.
Fuck . They’re my fault this time.
After a long minute of silence, she whispers, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I nod. “Okay.”
It’s the only thing I can offer her right now. Even if I want to interrogate her for every detail so I can know—so that I don’t accidentally do something to trigger her right now. So that I can be sure Kaleb will get every ounce of punishment he deserves.
Typically, the silences between Ginger and I are companionable. She holds my hand or rests hers on my thigh as I drive. She leans into me, hums along with the radio, teases me about being a minimalist. Whatever that is.
But right now, she’s huddled against the door to keep as far away from me as possible. Her arms are wrapped around herself and herforehead is against the window.
I hate it. I hate everything I’ve done to put her in that position.
I need to get her home, settled in a familiar space, and feeling safe enough to unpack this with me. She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.
Her door is open the moment I park, and she grabs her things from the back before I can help. If she doesn’t want my help, I get it. We take control of the things we can when we feel stressed. I understand this.
I’m fighting my every instinct, but I force myself to give her what she’s asking for rather than what I think she needs.
Ginger opens her door, shoulders stiff as she tosses her bags inside. Turning to block my entrance, she holds out a hand, finding my chest.
My lungs shake as I silently beg her not to shut me out with my eyes. I don’t move. Don’t say a word, and I can see when she decides to hide.
“No.” Her fingers curl against my shirt before it’s gone. “Just—no.”
Stepping back, Ginger shuts the door on me.