Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Want me to take her so you can clean up?” Gavin asked from the aisle as he made his way back to his seat.
The correct answer should’ve been yes. I was still covered in blood. But now that I had her in my lap, there was no way in fuck I was handing her off to someone else. Aiden had already taken care of her until I could get to her.
“I’m good.”
“Brother—”
He wisely stopped speaking when he caught my eyes.
I didn’t watch him walk away, I looked back down and concentrated on breathing as I took in the ugly red and green marks around her neck.
Then with determined effort I beat back the urge to tear the interior of the plane apart when visions—no not visions, memories—of her hanging from a hook naked invaded my mind.
My woman hanging from a hook.
Naked.
Inspected for sale.
Christ.
Aiden had told me that before shock had taken her under and she’d passed out, she was begging him to get her to me. He said he didn’t understand some of what she was saying, especially the part about not giving me what I needed. But the theme had been she’d needed me.
So, no.
Hell no, she was not waking up anyplace but in my arms.
I rested my head against the seat and closed my eyes.
Those visions were no better. The ones that Beck had planted when he’d called in to report Poppy had been severely whipped and her entire back was torn to shit and he was calling the mission. Pete had an hour to get backup on site and take the mansion or he was going on a murdering spree.
Gavin was escorting me home.
Pete, Jack, Aiden, Cat, Calli, Mason, and Fallon had stayed behind, with backup en route—that backup being the feds. Shep had worked his magic and had cleaners headed to the bloodbath I’d left behind.
Seven more hash marks on my soul.
Seven hash marks that I gladly took credit for.
Before the bodies were disposed of, pictures would be taken so we could identify the men. If one of them wasn’t this mysterious Dex, I was going hunting. Though Aiden said that Chloe had told him six men had inspected her, and Dex made seven. And indeed I’d left seven corpses behind.
I felt Chloe’s body jerk before a horrendous shriek. “No!”
“You’re safe, baby.”
Chloe jerked again. Her eyes opened, and the relief I felt would’ve taken me to my knees had I not been sitting down. Fear shone from the depth of her soul, but bright, not dead and dull.
Thank fuck.
“Ryan!”
Before I could stop her, she scrabbled in my lap, turning her body so she could reach up and grab my face.
“I’m sorry! So sorry. I did this. I’m so—”
“Shh, baby. Don’t apologize.”
Other than her neck I didn’t know if she was injured.
Aiden had told me he’d done a quick sweep and didn’t see any visible injury, but for obvious reasons he hadn’t looked that closely, just a cursory search before he’d cut her down.
And I hadn’t looked her over since she’d been passed out, other than checking her legs that were still bare.
My woman had been violated enough, no way in fuck was I lifting the shirt until she was conscious and coherent.
Her grip on my face tightened, causing a good amount of pain before she shrieked again. “You told me. I made you—”
I reached up, gently cuffed her bruised wrists, and rested my forehead on hers.
“Please stop, baby. Nothing that happened is your fault. It’s not Poppy’s, it’s not Beck’s, it’s not mine.
We’re not taking that on. We’re laying the blame where it belongs, and that’s with those sick-ass motherfuckers. ”
“But—”
“No buts, Chloe. Listen to me, please. We’re not taking that on. We’re going home and moving the fuck on.”
“We’re going home?” she whispered.
“About an hour from landing.”
She jerked again, and I really wished she would stop that shit until I had a chance to look her over or at least ask her if she was hurt.
Her gaze darted around. “We’re on a plane. How long was I out?”
“Almost two hours.”
“Two . . . hours.”
The longest two hours of my life—that being after the longest hour and forty-five minutes she’d been gone from the mansion.
“Your mind needed rest, so it took it.”
She nodded and belatedly took in my shirt.
I knew what she saw. Blood, and no small amount.
“You . . . I saw you . . .”
Fuck.
I knew she saw. There was no way she couldn’t have seen, with her front-row vantage point, hanging from a hook while I was dispensing retribution.
“Chloe—”
“I watched,” she interrupted me. “I could’ve closed my eyes, but I watched you. I wanted to see them die. I wanted to watch. Is that . . . that makes me . . .”
“Human, that’s what it makes you. Those men violated you.”
“I was terrified. I wanted to die.”
Her eyes closed. A burn erupted in my chest and seared through, leaving ash and carnage in its wake.
Her eyes slowly opened, then very softly she whispered, “The one who called me his pretty pet. You stabbed him in his neck, and when you did, I smiled.”
She needed to stop telling me this shit before I lost control. I didn’t tell her that. I sat there with Chloe safe in my arms and listened to her tell me everything that happened. By the time she was done, my heart was encased in scar tissue.
And I knew Gavin had heard.
He didn’t make a sound. But the longer she talked, the more the plane’s cabin filled with the fury of a man who loved and adored his sisters. And I knew he was sitting two rows in front of us wishing he’d been the one to dispatch the motherfuckers to hell.
But the pleasure had been all mine.
Chloe was showered. I was showered. Gavin had gone out and picked up subs. We’d eaten. Chloe was mostly silent and watchful. Gavin was mostly enraged, but not more than I was. Now she was in my bed, still awake, waiting for me to finish my call and come to bed.
I’d told her about Poppy.
It was a toss-up—wait until she had some time to wrap her head around what had happened to her or inflict the pain quickly and all at once so she could begin to heal.
I opted for the latter.
She broke down and sobbed. And those were the first tears since she’d woken up. Her nightmare had ended. She was safe. The fear still lingered, but she knew she was safe, so it would fade, and if it didn’t and fucked with her, she knew I’d see her through—she’d said so herself.
But she sobbed for Poppy.
“He’s taking her up to the ranch,” Pete told me.
“He murdered a man in front of her. Is that smart?”
“He killed the man who hurt her in front of her. I know it’s not the same, but Chloe—”
“I get it,” I cut him off, not needing him to finish pointing out I was being a hypocrite.
“And the way he is right now, no way in fuck would I suggest Poppy be anywhere but with him. If anyone so much as looks at her, he goes feral, and she’s burrowing into him like he’s her only lifeline.”
It was good Poppy had Beck as a shield. He’d keep her safe and get her on the right path even at the detriment to his own mental health.
“In a few days we need to talk to him.”
“We will.”
Gavin came into the kitchen with his hair wet and face like thunder.
I needed to talk to him, too, and check his pulse. But that would be in a few days too.
“Is that Pete?” Gavin asked.
“Yeah,” I told him. “All good. Feds are there making their arrests, and Shep sent them what we had. Still no word about Cynthia. Figure that’ll wait until the sick fucks are in interrogation. COD on Muriel is two to the face.”
Gavin shook his head. “Chloe mentioned Dex ordered Blackwell to carry out the hit.”
“Already passed that along to feds,” Pete said, obviously hearing Gavin’s comment.
“Right, you’ll be home in the morning,” I said. “Need a few days with my woman, then we’ll come up to the ranch. Hopefully Poppy will be ready to see Chloe. But right now, I’m hanging up with you so I get to my girl.”
Pete disconnected.
Taking in Gavin, I decided not to wait to get a feel for where he was at.
“You good?”
“Nope.”
“Right. Not what I meant. Is this gonna fuck with you in a way we need to take a trip and work it out of you?”
“Nope. I figure once I get over my disappointment I didn’t get to gut one or all of those fucks, I’ll be good knowing you did and they’re gone. But for tonight, I’m going to wallow and rejoice you got to Chloe in time and Beck will get Poppy where she needs to be.”
“As long as you wallowing doesn’t include a bottle of bourbon.”
Gavin didn’t have an alcohol problem. He drank but never when he was angry or upset. He knew what liquor did to his tenuous hold on his temper.
“Thought you were heading to bed with your woman.”
“Gav—”
“I’m fine. You know I am or I’d tell you I wasn’t. Now go be with your girl.”
He was telling the truth. He would tell me if he was losing hold—a promise we’d made to each other a long time ago. One that had been kept many times.
I made my way to him, clapped him on his shoulder, and didn’t dally any longer getting to Chloe.
“Is Poppy okay?” Chloe asked as soon as I closed the door behind me.
I waited until I was undressed and slipping into bed next to her before I answered.
“She’s going to the ranch and staying with Beck for a while. He’ll take care of her. You want the lights on tonight, or are you good with them off?”
“Why wouldn’t I want the lights off?”
If she didn’t know, I wasn’t going to bring it up. I’d watch and wait. So I took that as her answer and reached over to douse the light.
Chloe quickly curled into me.
A week.
Two.
Life would just be life.
“Can you do me a favor?” she whispered into the dark.
“Anything.”
Her hand came up and landed on my chest, and her fingertips dug in.
“You know people say that all the time,” she said.
“Say what?”
“That they’d do anything for someone. It’s normally just something someone says. But when you say it, I know you mean it. Really mean it. You’d do anything for me.”
Fuck. I didn’t know where she was going with this, but lying in the dark after the day she’d had, the demons were close to the surface.
I needed to have a care. So when I confirmed, it was guarded. “Yeah, Chloe, I’d do anything for you.”
“Kill for me.”
Fuck.
“Baby.”
“You would. You did. Those men scared me. They violated me. They took away my control. They were bidding to buy me. Then you made that right.”
I was happy she saw it that way, but I was still leery.
“I need one more thing from you tonight. No, two. Two more things.”
Fuck.
“Okay.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m damaged. Don’t be careful with me. Don’t treat me like a victim or a survivor or anything other than the Chloe you knew and loved yesterday.”
“Baby—”
“Promise me, Ryan. I need to be your Chloe.”
“Okay, Chloe. But you’re not fucking damaged or a victim. You’re you. You’re mine. And you’re perfect.”
Chloe fell quiet, and I fell silent right along with her.
This lasted so long I started to relax, thinking she’d fallen asleep.
“I need to be me,” she whispered. “I need to be yours. I need you to erase what they did and reclaim what’s yours.”
I swiftly rolled her to her back, waited for any sign of fear or anxiety, and when none came, I lowered my mouth to hers.
“I don’t have to reclaim what’s mine. It was never theirs. It was always mine. Always ours. Never theirs, Chloe, you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Good, baby. Now, if you want your man to make love to you, you’ll get exactly that. But—and this is not me treating you any different than I did yesterday, because my priority is always you—if at any point you get a twinge of unease, you tell me and we’ll talk through it.”
“Promise.”
“Good. Kiss me, baby, so I can set up making my girl feel good.”
Chloe lifted her head, but she didn’t kiss me.
I kissed her.
Slowly. Gently. A slow burn until she started stoking that fire by cupping my ass and grinding her hips up, looking for friction.
I broke the kiss, and when I did, she healed that mangled mess of tissue around my heart.
“I love you, Ryan. Until my last breath, I love you.”
Christ, but I fucking loved her.