36. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
T he doctors gave Summer something to help her sleep. Ramiro hadn’t been sure sedation was the best idea, but Summer agreed without hesitation, exhaustion etched on her face.
She normally held all of her emotions deep inside. Spewing them at him drained her in a way he’d never seen.
Hearing the truth hadn’t been easy. The images his mind created to torment him were worse than anything she could say. Ramiro failed to protect her, and he hated himself for that.
Yelling at him exhausted her, but there’d been a calmness after, one he hoped would lead to healing.
This was only the first day out of many to come. When she woke up, she’d likely try to push him away again. If he thought it would help her, he’d leave. He’d do anything for her. But he’d seen her fear, and he’d seen it shift back to anger when he said he’d stay .
The nurse checked the baby’s heartbeat again, the thrumming as strong as ever. Summer’s blood pressure had spiked, causing concern among the medical staff. The monitors beeped more steadily again, and Summer slept, even if it was a drug-induced sleep.
“The baby is still doing fine,” the nurse said, her voice low even though there was no worry about waking the patient.
“How long will she sleep?” he asked.
“Until morning.” She began putting away the equipment, wiping off Summer’s stomach and covering her with the sheet until she looked almost peaceful.
“Are you certain?” he asked.
“I promise,” the nurse said, patting his arm before continuing out the door.
When Ramiro left the room, Naz leaned against the wall near the stairs. His perch kept him between them and the elevators. It wasn’t likely that any cartel members would target them in the hospital, but Ramiro didn’t want to take any chances. He’d already failed once.
He must still look as drained as he felt. Creases pinched Naz’s forehead and his arms crossed over his chest.
“Sorry to take you away from Meg,” Ramiro said. The kid hadn’t left her side since they’d been attacked months ago.
Naz shook his head.
“I won’t be long,” Ramiro promised.
To his surprise, Naz’s lips parted. “Hurts. ”
Ramiro’s chest tightened. He felt the same way when he was away from Summer. “Sorry. I’ll return soon.”
Naz shook his head. “Hurts… when she hurts.” His hand came up, and he squeezed Ramiro’s shoulder in the way Ramiro had often done to him. “Go.” He nodded down the hall toward Summer’s room. “Safe.”
It was the most he’d heard Naz speak, and the words carved him up inside. Ramiro nodded at Naz and pressed the button for the elevator, relieved to disappear inside.
He’d been shot and beaten, and none of it compared to how he felt knowing Summer had been hurt. He needed to return some of that pain.
R amiro told Seb he could leave, but Seb leaned against the wall, taking out a blunt and staring at the bleeding and tied up dead man.
That’s what Ovidio was. He was dead; Ramiro just hadn’t finished killing him yet.
“Think I’ll enjoy the show,” Seb said, blowing smoke into the air.
Ramiro wasn’t sure how Seb was related to Ovidio, but he didn’t care about any of that.
Ovidio’s breathing rattled in his shattered nose. His face was still a mashed-in mess. His ear was missing, and his arm was covered with blood where it’d been chained to the ground .
“Please…” The word was only air, barely penetrating Ramiro’s mind.
Guzman should know better than to beg. He’d started them on this path. Ramiro was just going to end it and enjoy doing it.
He gripped those bloody cheeks, pulling the man’s face off the ground until his eyes opened into slits.
“You hurt what’s mine.” When he released him, Ovidio’s head thumped back down, already weak. “Now you’re going to hurt. You’ll scream and beg and the pain will continue, as long as I can make it last.”
Ovidio spat at him. “She called out for you,” he rasped. “Every time I fucked her, she begged for you to come save her.”
Ramiro’s stomach twisted as his sight dimmed. His punch shut Guzman’s mouth, but that didn’t quiet Summer’s cries in his head. He hit him again and again, then caught himself.
It was a good thing he didn’t have a gun on him, or the man would have goaded him into what he wanted—a quick death. No, it wasn’t going to end so easily for him.
Ramiro grabbed Ovidio’s uninjured wrist, the snap of it echoing in the empty warehouse. The man’s howl of pain was a start, but not nearly enough. He’d ripped Summer open, made her bleed and break.
There wasn’t enough pain that could make up for that, but Ramiro was going to try.
He slowly broke bones and decorated the carcass with bruises, the screams from what he did a backdrop for the guilt and fury that mixed sickeningly inside. When his hands got tired, he reached for the pliers. Nails and teeth were so small, but each extraction made the chains clink and the body writhe, until the screams became gurgles. By the time he used the knife, he’d reduced Ovidio Guzman to a whimpering mess.
How many times had Summer whimpered? Had she begged him not to hurt her? Or was all her begging directed toward Ramiro, crying out for him to save her, only he never came?
A pained howl escaped him as he snapped Ovidio’s neck, panting down at the bloody remains that were left.
“You fed him his own dick.” Seb crouched against the wall, his blunt long since finished.
Ramiro stood shakily, dragging his blood-soaked shirt over his head. “Did you bring the clothes?”
Seb nodded to the bag near the door.
Ramiro stripped off the rest of his clothes, staring down at his blood-stained feet. He’d forgotten he still wore no shoes.
He’d been hoping for numbness, for a moment without the gnawing guilt that consumed him from the inside.
Seb helped him bag up and clean the space in silence. It wasn’t until they were about to leave that he spoke again. “Did it help?”
Ramiro lay his head back against the headrest of the passenger seat, closing his eyes but still seeing his nightmares playing out behind his eyelids. “No.”
Seb turned the key in the ignition and began to drive.
T he house showed the remnants of what had happened. Cops had been there and gone, leaving their own fingerprints on the space. Streaks of blood, both on the carpet and on the wall, drew Ramiro’s gaze. He sat on the bed, staring at those streaks.
Summer made the bed every morning. The mussed sheets made him remember the way she’d been dragged awake while naked and vulnerable.
Summer hated anything out of place.
The thought let him move again. He scrubbed the stains long after they were erased, until his hands became raw. He bagged up the things that had been broken while the sheets were in the washer. When he went to switch them to the dryer, he remembered the way they’d clung to her legs as she cried out in fear.
The sheets ended up in the trash, too.
He made the bed with new sheets. Flowered ones he’d bought for Summer on a whim but hadn’t given her yet. They were similar in design to the tea set he’d ordered. He’d been planning to give them to her together.
He smoothed the sheets until all the wrinkles disappeared.
Packing her a bag was more difficult than he’d imagined. Summer mostly owned dresses and skirts, but everything he saw made him wonder if she’d feel vulnerable wearing it. The few pants she owned didn’t seem right, either. He settled on soft and comfortable .
His body smelled of chemicals. Slipping into the shower reminded him of that night. He’d come home, and he’d showered, picturing slipping into bed beside her when he was done, maybe even slipping into her body.
His fist slammed into the tiles. He pressed his face beside it as a sob escaped.
She’d trusted him. She’d let him inside her, even let him on top of her, with no tensing or fear.
He still didn’t know what had been done to her. She’d been raped, that much he knew, but her exact triggers would reveal themselves with time. Even reaching for her had made her flinch away from him.
She’d trusted him to protect her from something like that happening again, but he hadn’t.
His body slid down until he sat under the spray. Wrapping his arms around his legs, another sob escaped, and another. His head fell to his knees, and he let himself cry.