Chapter Twenty-Six
Michael…
He hurt my wife.
I shoved Kyle out of the driver’s seat, jumping in and tearing out of the parking garage as he dove into the chase car.
Robert Taylor cornered Sophie and hurt her.
Red lights flash at me as I tear through them, ignoring the blare of horns and cursing truck drivers. The Bugatti fishtails as I take the corner leading to my neighborhood and I twist the steering wheel, wasting precious seconds as I regain control.
My mobile lights up and I stab the button.
“Where’s Martha?”
“She’s okay,” Angus pants. “Two trucks tried to box us in, but we got around them. Gary shot out the tires of one of them and called for backup. We might be able to get something out of the driver. She’s frantic, asking about Soph- Mrs. MacTavish.”
“Tell her Sophie’s safe.”
He hurt my wife.
“I’m getting her medical attention now. I’ll have her call her mother when she’s taken care of. Let Martha know.”
Angus sounds a little unnerved by my tone. “Aye, sir. On it.”
I nearly break through the iron gates when they dinnae open fast enough and I race into the house, leaving the door open and the motor running.
“Sophie!”
“She’s in here, boss,” Ian calls from the great room.
My lass is sitting on the couch, blood’s dripped down the back of her head, staining her white shirt and her throat is already blooming ugly purple and blue bruises.
“Butterfly.”
Her arms go out, fingers making frantic grabby-hand motions and it feels like a punch to my chest. I carefully pull her onto my lap. “Your mum’s okay, aye? Dinnae worry. Martha’s fine.”
“She is?” Her poor, swollen face looks up at me. “Are you sure?”
“Aye, sweetheart. Taylor’s men tried to kidnap her, but her security took them out. She wasn’t hurt. Your poor throat…” I look up at an ashen-faced Ian. “The doctor’s on the way?”
“Aye, Dr. MacTavish.”
Oddly, Sophie seems to find this hilarious because she starts laughing until the pain in her throat makes her stop, coughing weakly.
“Shh… love. I have ye.” Wrapping my arm around her, I hold the pad of bloody gauze against the back of her head. I’m so angry that it takes me a moment to form a proper sentence as I stare at Ian and Torrin.
“What happened?”
“We stopped at Boots so Mrs. MacTavish could pick up a few things,” Torin says formally, standing soldier straight.
“After Ian accompanied her in, I noted two men enter the store and start smashing it up, knocking over shelves, punching the staff. I ran in and neutralized them both as I searched for Ian and Mrs. MacTavish. I found them in the restroom.”
Ian speaks up. “The attack drew me to the entrance of the hallway leading to the bathrooms. I pulled back to check on Mrs. MacTavish and she dinnae answer my call. The door was locked, I broke it down and Taylor had his arm around her throat, pressing a gun to her head. He threw her at me and escaped. I did not give chase, I stayed with Mrs. MacTavish.”
“Robert told me he had Mom,” Sophie rasps out. “He told me he wanted me to spy on you, find out about the Matsumori Yakuza. He knows you have another deal going.” Her face crumples. “He said he’d send back pieces of Mom if I didn’t get him what he wanted.”
“Ye did the right thing.” I nod to them all. I want to kill Ian for letting Taylor slip past him, but this isn’t the time. “Bring the doctor in as soon as she arrives.”
The room is quiet then, just Sophie’s poor, rasping breaths.
“Sweet lass, my brave girl.” I kiss her forehead, her nose. “Are ye in a lot of pain?”
“M’okay. Please tell me about Mom. You’re sure she’s safe?” Her face is resting against my neck, and I feel her take a deep breath, her fingers curling around my jacket.
“I promise. As soon as the doctor treats ye, we’ll call her, aye? The car she was riding in wasn’t even hit.”
Dr. MacTavish arrives, a no-nonsense woman with prematurely grey hair that she blames on us. Which is fair.
“Sophie dear, let’s take a look.” The doctor gently examines Sophie’s throat and the back of her head, asking questions in her calm, quiet voice. “How long do ye think he cut off your air supply?”
My fists tighten.
“I didn’t pass out,” Sophie croaks. “Probably just a minute or two. It didn’t take Ian long to break through the door.”
“Good,” Dr. MacTavish spreads some cream on Sophie’s throat.
“Since ye can swallow easily, I dinnae think there’s any permanent damage.
Soft foods for a couple of days and call me immediately if the swelling gets worse.
Now, the back of your head. The laceration is too light to need stitches, and your pupil response and lack of dizziness make a concussion unlikely.
Again, call me if any of the symptoms worsen. ”
“We will,” I cut in. “Tell me what I should be looking for.”
She goes over symptoms and areas of concern as she carefully cleans the wound on Sophie’s head. Pressing a bottle of pills in my hand, she says, “She’ll need these for the pain, they’re not particularly strong, but they’ll make her sleepy.”
“Thank ye, Doc.” I shake her hand. “And I’m indebted to ye for coming so quickly.”
Ian sees her out as I get back to Sophie, covering her with a soft throw. “Are ye ready to call Martha?”
“Yes please.” I hand her my phone and Martha picks up on the second ring.
“Sophie! Sophie love, are you all right?” There’s crying and her mum insists on Facetiming her to view her injuries, which sets off another round of crying. I let them talk until Sophie’s voice gets too hoarse to talk.
“Martha, I need to get Sophie to bed,” I interrupt gently. “Ye can get together tomorrow, aye?”
“Of course,” she nods furiously, her eyes red. “You just take care of her. Michael?”
“Aye?”
Her face sculpts into lines of ice and now I can see how she looked as the Graves Mafia matriarch, back in the day. “You kill him. You burn his reputation into ashes and tear that mafia apart.”
“Ye have my word.”
I let Sophie sleep for a couple of hours before waking her on Dr. MacTavish’s instruction to check her. “How do ye feel?”
She smiles up at me, glassy-eyed. “I don’t know what was in those pills, but right now, I’m riding a purple sparkle unicorn and she’s taking me to Cotton Candy Mountain.”
That forces a chuckle out of me. “Well, ye and your unicorn friend enjoy your trip. I’ll be here when ye come back.” I pull her covers back up but she grabs my hand.
“Can you stay? Just for a little while?”
“Sweet butterfly… as long as ye like.” Taking off my jacket and dress shoes, I get into bed with her.
To my surprise, she crawls onto my lap, settling herself sideways with her face buried in my neck.
Her vanilla-sugar scent wraps around me and I take a deep breath.
My wife is safe. She’s alive and in my arms.
I’ll never let her be hurt again.
The pain in my leg wakes me up. Sophie’s leg is thrown casually over mine, and resting right on the place where the nerve endings never seem to dull. Carefully moving my leg away from hers, I freeze as she clings to me, letting out a sleepy mumble.
“Do you have to go?” she sighs. The bedroom is dark, we must have slept through the afternoon.
“No, I just have to change positions,” I grunt.
“Here, let me move-” Sophie helpfully wiggles her hips, which does not get her off my lap but certainly adds some pressure to my already rapidly swelling cock. Pausing for a moment, she looks up at me with a wee bit of a grin. “I guess that didn’t help.”
“Dinnae ye try that innocent act on me, lass. It dinnae work when ye were a teenager and your act has not improved.”
“Hmm…” Going up on her knees, she swings one over me and straddles my lap. “What about now?” I stifle another groan as her hot center rubs against my dress pants. “No?”
My stern expression is not intimidating her. “Ye need to rest, baby. Ye had a rough day.”
“I feel much better now,” she says, making another slow circle with her damn hips. “My voice isn’t as croaky and my head feels fine.”
Another pass of her hips and my dick’s rubbing painfully against my zipper. I’d stripped her down to one of my clean t-shirts and her knickers before putting her in bed, and there’s only a thin layer of silk between my self-control and her exquisite wee pussy.
“Besides,” she draws out the word. “Endorphins are excellent for speeding up healing, you know that.”
I’m seconds away from yanking down my zipper and hoisting her on my dick. Then I remember my conversation with Mason and Kai. Miss Kevin’s pointed reminder.
Taking her hips, I hold her still. “I want to show ye something.”
Ach, her smile is sugar sweet. “Okay.”
“Unbutton my shirt.” There’s some light shining into the room from the open door to the hallway, but we’re both half in shadow.
She likes this request, loosening my tie quickly and then unbuttoning my shirt. After getting it free from my pants, she pulls it off, running her hands over my shoulders and my chest. “I’ve wanted to trace every one of these tattoos,” she murmurs, “ask you about them.”
“I’m an open book.”
The look she gives me is filled with derision. “Open book. You.”
“Aye,” I spread my arms. “Fully transparent.”
Leaning forward, she gently kisses and nibbles one nipple, then the other. Feck, I dinnae know how sensitive they were, that clever little tongue is just making me harder to the point of pain. I’d thought having to tell her would be the instant end to any stonner, but I’m calm. Almost at peace.
“Now, my pants. Take ‘em off.”
Rising up, she unbuckles my belt, pulling it from the loops before setting it aside and unzipping me. I lift my hips to help her, but as she pulls my boxers and pants down my thighs, I take her hand.
“Stop for a moment.”
She sits back, putting her hands on her legs, giving me her full attention.
It’s always been a mix of flattering and unsettling, it has.
I’m used to people paying close attention because it could be a matter of life or death, or I scare them shiteless.
With Sophie, though, she always seems eager to understand me.