Chapter 12 #2
I pause in the shade beside a large tomb with an avenging angel on top.
The angel has long hair and a weak chin, but something in his expression still reminds me of Nix.
The thirst for justice and vengeance is ancient and completely understandable, but indulging it is only going to make things worse for him and his sister.
“She came to you because she knew you’d keep her safe,” I say, holding his gaze. “And you can’t do that if you’re in jail.”
“I wouldn’t end up in jail.” He crosses his arms as he glances away, muttering beneath his breath, “I’d wear a mask and gloves and make sure no DNA was left behind.”
I reach for his forearm, giving it a firm squeeze. “Stop it. I’m serious. Don’t even joke like that. She came to you because she trusts you. If you violate—”
“No,” he cuts in. “I’m pretty sure she only came to me because she couldn’t go home.
Our parents are in Scotland on this trip they’ve been planning for years.
My aunt Cindy’s housesitting, and she’s the biggest gossip in Nashville.
If Bea showed up there all twitchy, with a black eye, Cindy would’ve spilled everything to our parents.
Their trip would have been ruined, and Bea would have felt even worse than she does already. ”
My forehead wrinkles. “Why does she feel bad? She didn’t do anything wrong.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe because we all told her that Kai was a fuck weasel? We told her and she didn’t listen, and now… I don’t know. Maybe she thinks she deserves to suffer. But she doesn’t.”
I soften my grip on his arm, letting my fingers mold to his warm skin. “Of course, she doesn’t. Poor baby. This jerk’s really gotten in her head, hasn’t he?”
Nix’s shoulders droop as he nods. “That’s part of why I want him to pay.
He got his hooks in her when she was barely seventeen, Char.
She was just a kid, a sweet, artsy, imaginative kid who had never even had a boyfriend before.
She didn’t know that love didn’t have to feel like manipulation.
” His throat works, before he adds in a rougher voice, “That it didn’t have to hurt. ”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” I pull him in for a hug, winding my arms tight around him.
He comes without hesitation, clinging to my waist with an intensity that makes it obvious how much he needed a hug. But even in a moment of need, he’s still gentle, careful, clearly mindful of his own strength.
He’s such a good man.
But it isn’t always easy to be a good man in a bad world.
“I know how hard this is,” I murmur into his ear as I stroke his hair. “If someone laid a hand on Makena or Elly or any of my girls on staff, I’d want to rip their dick off with my bare hands and feed it to that raccoon from Mack’s food truck.”
He sighs, but I think I feel his lips twitch as he says, “I don’t think raccoons eat peen.”
“Sure, they do,” I say. “As long as it’s evil peen. Everyone knows that.”
This time, the laugh is soft, but clear. And when he pulls back, he looks calmer than he did before. “Thanks, I needed that.”
“You’re welcome. Seriously, though, your rage is totally valid.
What this guy did is unforgivable. And wanting to protect your sister is beautiful and exactly what makes you a good person.
” I let my tone grow more pointed as I add, “But you know you can’t touch him, Baylor.
You’re just now getting out of the doghouse with Voodoo management.
They’re watching you like hawks. One more incident and there will be serious consequences. ”
“I know.” His jaw works. “Of course, I know.” His gaze searches mine as he adds in a whisper, “But she’s my baby sister.
And she’s so little, Char. How could he?
Even if she were coming at him with a raised fist, which she fucking wasn’t because she doesn’t have a violent bone in her body, how could he?
How could he punch a woman half his size?
She barely comes up to the middle of his chest. I can’t wrap my head around it. ”
I press my lips together, fighting a wave of feeling I don’t know what to do with.
I only know that he’s the sweetest man. And that I’m pretty sure I would be falling in love with him right here and now if I hadn’t already been halfway off the diving board already.
“I don’t know, baby,” I finally say, the endearment feeling as natural as his arms around me. “But the fact that you can’t should be all the proof that you’re too good to stoop to his level.”
“But then what?” Frustration bleeds into his voice as he pulls away, propping his hands low on his hips. “I just do nothing? Let him get away with it? Let him think he can do it again?”
I shake my head, an idea forming that’s too perfect to second guess. I might not know exactly how to handle this, but I know someone who will. “No, you focus on Bea, and let me assemble the Avengers.”
He blinks. “What?”
“You stay squeaky clean. Keep playing perfect hockey, being the model reformed bad boy, the supportive big brother. And meanwhile…” I mentally scroll through my friends and associates, pinpointing at least four excellent resources off the top of my head.
I smile, feeling even more confident that this is the way forward, as I add, “I’ll consult my experts in feminine rage and holy retribution.
Then, I’ll get back to you on the best way to hit this guy where it hurts, while still keeping Bea safe. ”
Understanding dawns, smoothing Baylor’s brow as he nods. “Okay, so…Makena?”
“Among others. I come from a long line of troublesome NOLA women stretching back seven generations, Mr. Nix. I have connections. Clever, diabolical, crafty, and cunning connections.”
His lips hook up. “I bet you do.”
I cock my head, grinning up at him. “I do. I also have a troublesome ancestor buried right here in this very cemetery. I brought some zinnias from the garden in my purse to leave in her urn. Want to meet her?”
“I do.” But when he reaches for my hand, he makes no move to start back down the path. “Thank you. For assembling the Avengers and for meeting me. You didn’t have to. That’s not part of our agreement, but I really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” I murmur. “What are friends for? If I were in a tough spot, I know you’d do the same for me.”
Without missing a beat, he nods. “I would. Anything you ever need. All you have to do is ask. And I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t have to ask.”
It’s more than a promise.
It’s a vow, the kind you make to a teammate or a brother-in-arms.
Or to the woman you love…
Maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel strange at all when he pulls me in for a kiss.
It’s gentle at first, a grateful brush of his lips against mine that I return with silent assurances that there’s nothing fake about the support I’m offering right now.
Then, his arms tighten around my waist, and my palms skim up his shoulders. The kiss deepens, but not in our usual fire and reckless decisions kind of way. This is focused, intentional, deliberate, the kind of kiss you can’t brush off as “heat of the moment” after the fact.
This isn’t a momentary loss of control; this is another step down a road neither of us was planning to travel.
But when we pull back, and he cups my face, studying me like a line in a favorite book he never wants to forget, I can’t bring myself to push him away. My will to haul protective boundaries back into place is running low on gas.
Dangerously low…
I’m going to have to do something about that.
Soon.
But for now, I loop my arm through his and show him where one of the troublesome Delaney women is laid to rest, wondering if Marjorie is rolling over in her grave at me falling for the wrong guy all over again.
Or maybe she’s proud.
Proud of me for finally starting to realize that a chance at real love might be worth the risk.