Chapter Thirteen
Wilder
HE WASN’T sure why Emmett’s hand in his made breathing easier, but considering the guilt eating at his gut, he wasn’t about to question it. Emmett was half asleep in the passenger seat, mumbling incoherently under his breath. He was safe and in one piece. That was all that mattered to him.
Emmett lifted his head with a groan, his hold on Wilder’s hand tightening. “You sure it was you and not the SUV that hit me?”
“I’m sure,” he said, his lips pulling into a small smile as he glanced over at Emmett and met hazy blue eyes for a second before returning his gaze to the road.
“You’re basically an SUV.”
His bark of laughter startled both of them, but then Emmett chuckled, and the sound was like pure happiness injected into his veins. That could become a problem real fucking fast. He’d never been addicted to anything, but that laugh? Yeah, he could become addicted to it easily. Way too easily.
He turned down the gravel driveway, slowing down to keep the rustling of the car to a minimum for Emmett’s sake. He stole a glance at Emmett, anger rising to the surface at the pained expression on that gorgeous face. He was going to kill those bastards. He was going to fucking break them.
He pulled up in front of the house, parking close to the front porch so Emmett wouldn’t have to move so far.
He hesitated before pulling his hand free from Emmett’s grip, the loss of that touch leaving him with a strange, empty feeling in his chest. He breathed in deeply through his nose, regretting it instantly when that sweet, creamy scent that was pure Emmett hit him like a brick wall.
It took much more strength to get out of the car than he dared admit to. He walked around the front of the car, movement on the front porch catching his attention. Spencer’s concerned eyes met his gaze as he headed down the steps.
“Go get Emma,” Wilder yelled, keeping his voice as low as possible.
Spencer didn’t bother with even a nod before whirling around and jogging back inside. Wilder blew out a breath and reached for the handle on Emmett’s door.
“Guess we’re making a habit of it,” he said, reaching across Emmett to undo his seatbelt.
“Huh?”
Blue eyes blinked up at him. Fuck, they had no right to be so stunning. He wasn’t sure what it was about Emmett that simply took his breath away. He needed to get a grip.
He put his arms under Emmett and lifted him out of the car, teeth grinding when Emmett groaned low in pain.
“What hurts?”
“Everything,” Emmett mumbled, burying his face in Wilder’s shoulder.
Even though it had been him or the SUV, he still hated that he’d hurt Emmett.
He was the kind of sweet that would have his sister describing him as a cinnamon roll.
He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but the fact that Emmett was hurt and still asking if he was okay only brought out that protective streak of his even harder. Someone was going to die for this.
He walked up the patio steps and through the front door Spencer had left open. He stepped into the foyer, his gaze dropping to Emmett’s face against his chest, and what he could see of those soft lines, creamy skin, and long dark lashes made his heart race for unknown reasons.
“What the hell happened?”
He reluctantly looked up from Emmett to meet Emma’s worried gaze. She had a large bag in one hand. Her med-kit.
“He almost got hit by a car. I had to throw him to the ground. I caught his head, but you should probably check his implants.”
Emma nodded, her expression grave as she waved him closer. He walked past her, through the living room, and toward his own bedroom. Emma followed close behind, and when he reached the door, he waited for her to open it for them. He stepped inside, carefully putting Emmett down on his bed.
He’d thought about getting Emmett in his bed, but this sure as fuck wasn’t how he’d imagined it would happen.
Blue eyes blinked open, lashes fluttering and capturing all of Wilder’s attention. Emmett looked at him with something soft and much too appreciative for his liking. He didn’t deserve that.
He brushed sticky blond hair off Emmett’s forehead while Emma took a seat on the bed next to them.
As she started looking Emmett over, it only solidified that whirlwind of anger and guilt deep in his gut, and if he kept looking at Emmett, he feared what those feelings might have him doing, so he walked out without a word and closed the door behind him.
He stood there, unmoving except to clench his hands, and winced at the spark of pain traveling up his arms.
Footsteps had him snapping his head up. Spencer took one look at him and walked straight back out of the room. Smart man. He wasn’t sure what he might do with how fucked his emotions were.
Pacing in front of his bedroom door didn’t lessen the anxiety building inside him, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop. He had no concept of how much time had passed when Kaz, Remy, and Killian came through the front door. Any time was too long right now.
“How is he?” Kaz asked, his brows furrowed in clear concern.
Wilder shrugged, gaze turning toward his bedroom door. “Emma’s with him.”
Kaz pressed his lips together, then nodded and headed toward the meeting room, the others following. He didn’t move even as others came through the door and disappeared into the room. He wasn’t going anywhere until―
The click of his bedroom door opening had him whirling around, acid burning in his throat. Emma stepped out with near-silent steps, a small smile on her lips when she met his gaze.
“I think you saved him from a concussion. It’s mostly bruises and the adrenaline kicking off. He should be fine with a bit of rest.”
The relief her words brought was short-lived, replaced by the clench of a fear he couldn’t place. He shoved it down, fighting to breathe slowly through it. Now was not the time for whatever the hell this was.
He started toward the meeting room, Emma’s footsteps quiet as she followed behind him. He stepped into the room and grabbed the door handle after a cursory glance around the room to ensure everyone was present, and once Emma was inside, he closed the door and made his way to his chair.
“The driver?” he asked Kaz the second his ass hit the seat.
“There was a driver and a passenger. Solo put them in the basement.”
He gave a curt nod, and from the tightening of Kaz’s lips, he understood exactly where his thoughts were. Those two were going to regret having been born once he got his hands on them.
“First, they drive by yesterday, making a show of it, and now they try to run over civilians?” Killian said with a shake of his head.
Wilder felt his brows crease.
“They might’ve seen Emmett on the back of my bike,” he said, tapping his fingers against his thigh and ignoring the spark of pain in his knuckles. He hated that. Hated that by getting Emmett to safety yesterday, he might’ve quite literally put him in the gang’s crosshairs.
“Well. Clearly, he’s a target now,” Kian said, his voice a deep rumble as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“I want someone on him twenty-four-seven,” Emma said, her gaze snapping onto Wilder. “Why weren’t you there?”
“He very clearly was, or your boy would’ve been roadkill,” Cooper snarked.
“He was already at the gym. I didn’t know he’d gone alone,” he said, leveling Cooper with a look he hoped conveyed that he needed to shut the fuck up.
Emma was already high-strung about Emmett’s safety.
It wouldn’t take much to push her too far, and full-patch or not, no one would stop her from trampling Cooper. No one would stop him.
Cooper threw up his hands, but thankfully kept his trap shut. He turned his gaze on Emma, finding her scowling at Cooper, her jaw ticking.
“I’ll watch him day and night if that’s what it takes,” he told her.
He wasn’t offering for her sake. Barely even for Emmett’s.
Seeing that SUV racing toward an oblivious Emmett was the longest moment of his life.
Perhaps even the scariest. It was out of pure self-preservation because whatever the hell his brain had decided to feel, clearly, he needed to ensure Emmett’s safety to stop feeling it.
“Do not let him get hurt,” Emma said, her words clipped.
“I won’t.”
It wasn’t usually a promise he made because he knew better than most that shit happened, but Emmett? No one was ever getting their fucking hands on him. Not while he was around.
Kaz ended Church with a few short words about safety, and Wilder motioned for Emma to wait. While the others filed out of the room, he went around the table to pull out the chair next to hers and sat down.
“How is he? Really?”
Emma eyed him with something unreadable swirling around in those otherworldly golden eyes of hers.
“Sore, but he’ll live. At least it was you and not that SUV.”
“I’m not so sure he agrees with that sentiment,” he said, a smile teasing his lips. “He was muttering about me practically being an SUV on the way home.”
Emma poked him in the muscles of his upper arm and said, “I don’t blame him.”
He didn’t either.
He put his hands on the table to push himself up, but fingers wrapping around his left wrist kept him seated. He already knew from Emma’s sigh that he was about to get an earful.
“You didn’t even clean it, did you?”
He pressed his lips together and followed Emma’s gaze to his bloodied knuckles. It stung a bit, but it was nothing compared to how he felt on the inside. He was used to pain at this point. Sometimes he even craved it.
“Wasn’t exactly my priority,” he mumbled.
“Idiot,” Emma said under her breath, shaking her head and giving him a displeased look.
“Let’s go get this cleaned up,” she said and stood, tugging him up with her.
He went willingly, not daring to risk incurring her wrath.
She was terrifyingly accurate with those knives of hers.
He sure as hell wasn’t about to mention that he would only be breaking his knuckles all over again once he got a hold of the assholes who tried to run Emmett over.
He followed Emma into the living room, his heart skipping a beat when he caught a flash of dirty blond hair. Emmett was sitting on the couch, Miles next to him, while Ezra sat in front of them on the coffee table. Kian was pacing while he talked through whatever food he was stuffing his mouth with.
Clearly, Emmett was doing well enough to be out of bed, but… What did it say about him that he wanted Emmett to stay in his room? In his bed? He was losing his mind. It was the only explanation he could come up with. It was the only thing that made sense.