Chapter 9
Dixie
Tyler opened the cabin door, and I hurled a cushion at him. He deflected it with an arm.
A bloodied one.
I clasped my hands to my mouth. “You’re hurt.”
He closed us inside and hung up the coat he carried, toeing off his boots. “Not my blood, doll.”
Oh. Right. I snatched another cushion and tossed it at him.
Tyler caught it. “Why am I being mildly attacked?”
“You left me alone. Again. I don’t like being alone.”
“But you told me to go.”
“So? It scared me.”
“More than me being around?”
He didn’t scare me anywhere near enough. I was the stupidest woman for how safe he made me feel. Or the fact that tonight, I’d gone around to check all the doors and windows were locked. Not so I could leave, but so others couldn’t get in.
At my lack of an answer, Tyler looked me over, the heaviness lifting from him. “You’ve been on your own for weeks.”
“And I hated it.”
“Then I’m sorry.” He sniffed the air. “It smells incredible in here.”
I folded my arms. “I cooked. There might be some for you. After you’ve showered and changed.”
Obediently, he walked towards the hall that led to his room. “What did ye make?”
“Chicken fried rice. Go shower. I’ll make you a plate.”
Tyler hesitated, watching me. A rush of something pinned me to the spot. Attraction, lust, a tiny bit of fear. All, in some combination. I didn’t think on why he was bloodied. The task he’d set out to do. Only the fact that he’d come home to me.
At last, he tore away and stalked to the bathroom, shutting himself in. Water ran. I unglued my feet from the floor and retreated to the kitchen, trying not to picture hot steam and thick thighs.
Only a few minutes later, Tyler joined me, his hair damp and his clothes fresh. A t-shirt and grey sweats. Damn. I had to hold my focus on his face so I didn’t try to peek at any outline.
His lips twitched as if he knew, but he let me off, sitting at the island to attack the meal. He groaned in pleasure at the first bite. “This is so good.”
I flushed warm. “Thank you. I like it, and I don’t have many other recipes I can make.”
He scarfed down the food like he’d been starved. “Is there more?”
“I was stress-cooking, so I made a lot.” I took another container from the fridge and warmed it up.
I liked feeding him. I’d enjoyed it yesterday, too. I knew Stockholm syndrome had been debunked as not real, but what was it called when the girl already liked the guy? And wasn’t put off by him kidnapping her or coming home covered in blood with bruised knuckles? Where she actually kinda liked it?
Tyler devoured his second dinner then drank two glasses of water from the tap.
“I need to tell ye what I did tonight.”
I swallowed but nodded. Part of the reason why I’d stressed about him going out was centred around his task. What he might find out.
We moved to the sofa in the living room, sitting at either end and facing each other.
To one side, the fire burned in the grate, the flames flickering orange.
I’d already dragged the heavy curtains shut and turned on lamps.
It made my safe haven feel even more secure, and gave a cosy atmosphere for a heavy conversation.
Tyler’s expression changed from contentment to one weighed down with knowledge.
I broke the ice. “You know what happened in that room.”
He inclined his head.
I continued. “The guard was watching?”
Another nod. “His name was Buck. He was getting off on filming the women and not doing his job.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not the first time a new guard has got pussy struck. Wait, did you say filming?”
“He had videos.”
“Including that one of me?”
His nod iced over my blood. Then it hadn’t been wiped everywhere. He’d seen it all.
I swallowed. “What did you do to him?”
“Made him regret it, got rid of any evidence, then handed him over to Shade so he could become an example to the rest.”
My breathing came shakily. Tyler had watched those men assault me. There wasn’t a single other person I could trust with that knowledge.
Silence fell, and I knew from his expression that he was reliving what he’d seen.
Just as I’d done on the nights when I couldn’t sleep.
Which was most. But honestly? This bullshit just joined the queue of trauma I fought to cope with.
Still, I prayed that he wouldn’t ask me to walk through the details. There was no need. We both knew them.
Tyler’s fists clenched. “Want to know what I did next?”
Oh, I liked that. He was angry, not full of pity.
I pushed my hair behind my ear. My hands shook, too, so I shoved them between my thighs. “Tell me.”
“I drove to Sullivan’s house.”
My soul shrank, but I held my chin high. I hated that name. “Did you hurt him?”
“I did.”
The tremor reached my words. “Is he dead?”
Was it bloodthirsty of me to want it? Sullivan had been vile. I never wanted him to hurt another girl the way he’d threatened to hurt me.
“Not yet, and for two reasons. First, and of least importance, his name came up in part of the investigations that Mila and Lovelyn are carrying out. Second, because it’s your choice. When he dies, it should be at your hand. Or at least your command. I wouldn’t take that away from ye.”
I exhaled in a rush.
Tyler continued. “The way I see it, a whole lot of people caused ye harm. Not only Sullivan and his cronies, who will also be handled, but others. They drove ye away from your home. One by one, we’ll make sure they can never do it again. I promise that.”
I wanted to ask for more. I wanted his protection and for this possession of me to not wear off. I hated how much I didn’t want it to fade.
Couldn’t let myself be that insane. Crazy girls didn’t live long in my world.
Tyler’s eyes glittered. “Ye come first.”
“That a fact, hun?”
The very air between us became weighted with something new. Something warmer. In the days I’d been in Tyler’s company, he’d touched me precisely once. I’d felt that press on my arm like a brand.
The way he was looking at me disturbed the unpleasantness of my memories. Chased them away. For several moments, he didn’t hide his deep attraction, letting me see it. Bask in it. A nonphysical touch that heated me up from my bare toes to the top of my head.
God, that felt good.
One of the worst things about my experience with Sullivan and his men came at the end.
Before they let me go, they’d rejected me, horrified at finding the scar on my neck.
It had made me feel so worthless, which was such a contradiction after everything they’d done.
An insult to add to the injury, and something no one would understand.
Since I’d been with Tyler, I’d barely thought about it.
He kept up his wonderfully exposed stare.
One look, and I would follow this man into dark places.
It was so strange. Before I properly knew him, I’d wanted him.
Except it hadn’t been real. I’d never considered that he, one of the most senior members of the skeleton crew with responsibilities and a dangerous job, would be serious about a girl like me. Just another sex worker.
His behaviour said otherwise. He’d taken ownership of me. Made up rules to protect me.
In exchange, I let myself take stock of him.
Same as me, he was barefoot, somehow making this all the more intimate.
I skipped over the dangerous outline area to where his t-shirt sleeves clung tight to his biceps.
He had inkwork I’d stolen glimpses at. Now, I examined each piece.
A Celtic design outlined a graveyard, tombstones on his forearm.
Bands wound around, going higher up his arm until they disappeared from sight.
Maybe the graveyard meant something. Maybe I wanted him to lose the shirt so I could see more. He’d stripped in front of me two nights ago, but I’d been too upset for detail. I wasn’t now.
My lips moved by themselves. “Take off your t-shirt.”
“No.”
I held his gaze. “Do I have to ask again?”
Tyler worked through some internal battle then sat forward to strip the offending item. He dropped it to the floor and rested back on cushions, firelight gleaming on his beautiful skin.
He didn’t say a single word more, letting me get back to the important business of scrutinising him. The circles continued up the bulge of his muscles then stopped. On the front of his left shoulder, under his collarbone, a round mark puckered his skin.
He touched a finger to it. “Bullet hole.”
My breath hitched. “You were shot?”
His fingertip tapped his side where tighter skin scored back in a line. Then he turned his head and indicated to the side of his right ear. An indent in it.
“I’ve got more scars than I can count.”
A burst of unhappiness had me twisting my fingers together. “I don’t like that.”
“It’s part of the job.”
I knew what he did was dangerous. I knew his muscles didn’t come from a desire to pose in the gym mirror. What he did was important. He risked his life to save others. Until now, I’d had no idea how much.
I unlocked my hands and pointed to the underside of my breasts. “Teeny implant scars. Can’t even see ’em.” I gestured to my head. “Messed up from all angles. Like nutso.”
Tyler’s lips curved at my attempt at humour. The smile died when I touched my throat. The silver line that nearly ended my life and had me in hospital for weeks.
“Hideous.”
He shook his head slowly. “That mark shows ye didn’t let someone else bring ye down. Like mine.”
All of a sudden, I couldn’t stop myself. From vowing never to share my ridiculous thoughts with anyone, I spilled them. “Sullivan and his men rejected me because of this. They were going to rape me, but they saw that and decided I was defective. Not even good enough to abuse.”
Tyler’s grey eyes turned steely.
“Know what’s worse?” I tapped my chest. “I judged myself on their reaction. On how revolting I’d become. My body was my career. My livelihood. I let the opinion of those three men guide how I thought of myself, and… And…”
“They will die knowing that.”
I shut my mouth, the tremble taking over me once again.