Chapter 47
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The morning sun is just starting to peek through the curtains, but I’m in no rush to move.
Our alarms are both off and there isn’t anywhere we have to be today.
Of course there are plenty of things we could do, but I’m okay if we stay right here.
Leaning down, I inhale the sweet vanilla scent of her shampoo and softly kiss her forehead, careful not to wake her.
I could lie here with Tinsley, watching her chest rise and fall, knowing she’s safe in my arms for the rest of my life.
That’s not practical, but after the last month she’s had—we’ve both had—I’m in no hurry to be away from her anytime soon.
I’ve never been so terrified in my entire life.
And like it or not, the second my girl is fully healed, she’s going to start her own training. She can pick the martial arts style, but she’s going to learn how to do a lot more than just throw a punch—although I will forever be grateful that my niece Lucy taught her that.
The newlyweds Theo and Savannah started building their home a quarter mile south of Walker and Vivian’s house and already talked to Walker about bringing some of his family’s horses from Texas to their land like he and Vivian are doing next month.
So, as a thank you to Lucy for what she taught Tinsley, I bought her a pony—technically, a filly, but close enough.
I kept my non-verbal promise to Walker and let my brother-in-law take Rick into custody breathing.
He didn’t give me much time alone with the asshole, but revenge was secondary to getting Tinsley to safety.
But when my girl kneed him, she gave me the window I needed to take control of the situation.
I threw an elbow strike down on his mid-forearm with such force, I was not surprised at all to hear the distinct crack.
Rick held the gun so tightly, but he hasn’t studied fighting like I have and wasn’t at all prepared for the sudden impact of an elbow throw—a vulnerability I exploited without question and without hesitation.
Sending Rick into federal custody with a broken forearm was satisfying, but not nearly as satisfying as finding out that Tinsley’s brilliant knee to his groin was so hard that she caused extensive bruising, to the point where the medical staff at the holding facility had to confirm that the asshole didn’t have a ruptured testicle.
Neither were ruptured, so he didn’t require emergency surgery for the severely bruised testicles, but he will be in a cast for the broken forearm for the next six to eight weeks.
Walker told me that he heard Rick was trying to act tough, but it was really hard to establish that kind of rep in prison when you’re required a supportive garment for your bruised balls in order to walk.
My little ball buster.
Of course, Walker had to announce that tidbit to the Poker Night chat, which led down an extensive sharing of banana hammock gifs and memes. I even managed to smile at a few of them.
But I still feel like I can barely breathe.
Even though she’s safe—I know she’s safe—it’s all been too much, and I can’t handle almost losing her again.
I’ve been clingy this last month, which is not like me, but she isn’t complaining.
We’ve both needed to be in each other’s physical space, even if physical intimacy has been tamed down while she physically heals once-fucking-again.
After the U.S. marshals escorted Rick and Debbie Jo to the nearest federal holding facility, I rode with Tinsley to the hospital, where Wells, who thankfully came to less than two minutes after Rick had knocked him out cold, was also checked out for the mild concussion Rick gifted him.
Given Tinsley’s physical history over the last year, and let’s be honest, a lot fucking longer than that under the control and abuse of Rick, the doctors wanted to keep her for a few days, which was not something either of us were fans of, but I came up with a great solution.
It helps to be a billionaire.
My assistant reminded me once again why he’s the best when he found a private doctor with the right background for what we needed, along with a nursing and support team, and Jett set up a full medical suite in Savannah’s guest house.
Vivian, Walker, and Eloise lived here prior to moving into their house when it was finished just before Christmas, and Savannah was more than happy to offer it up to us.
Doing what he does best, Jett made things happen and had everything the private doctor needed, and Tinsley was monitored in the comfort, and privacy, of our own space for the next week.
It meant we had a hospital suite in the living area where a large sectional previously was because I didn’t want Tinsley to try to tackle the stairs to access the bedrooms. The doctor left follow-up instructions and I’ve been keeping a very close eye on her.
We slowly started her physical therapy sessions again.
Unfortunately, this attack set her back once again, but she’s alive.
Last week, we officially moved into the master bedroom upstairs and had the sectional moved out of storage, and the hospital suite disappeared in one afternoon, in true Jett fashion.
She’s not whole yet, but she’s here.
I know she loves to be on stage and perform, but she can’t do that if she isn’t here.
We will eventually go back to the penthouse but not until a full remodel has been completed.
I was worried Cami would feel like I was kicking her out, but she just smiled and said it was okay, she had another room—which prompted our other siblings to fight over who was going to have her come over first. No one should’ve been shocked when Savannah won that battle, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she threatened bodily harm outside of The Brigade group chat.
It’s not like she’s far from Tinsley either, and we see Cami almost every day since we are in Savannah’s backyard.
Cami and Tinsley have become close friends, something that I love for both of them, and I like that she isn’t far from us.
Tinsley is giving her input so the renovated space will feel more like hers—except for Cami’s bedroom, of course.
It’s not ideal, but our space was violated and it needs to be overhauled.
Kane’s blood got into the floorboards, and Rick’s puke from the impact of Tinsley’s groin kick ruined my custom sectional for the room.
The next time we’re in that space, I want it to feel completely different.
From the flooring to the finish around the fireplace, everything is being updated and will feel like an entire new place.
Tinsley fully agreed—except for the iron staircase; I was not allowed to have that changed—and when the time is right, I have another suggestion to throw into the mix for her to consider.
But right now? Right now, I’m holding my girl and watching her breathe.
She’s safe.
She’s here with me.
She’s healing and she’s going to be okay—great, in fact. I won’t settle for anything else.
We knew Rick was awful, but it hadn’t occurred that he would want her dead to benefit from massive life insurance policies.
When Daphne and Tinsley’s other attorneys removed Rick and his access to her life, Rick had been smart to have only ever paid for those policies directly from a personal account of his own, so it never showed up on the forensic accounting that they did when they purged his bullshit from her life.
He had the right to have life insurance as her stepfather and manager, but the amount he had on her was more than obscene, and every single dollar was enough motivation for him to try and kill my girl.
A motive we had no idea he even had in place to hurt my girl.
Rick faces the same federal charges as Kane, and after those cases are resolved, Florida is waiting for their turn to prosecute Rick for his role in the death of Michael Sinclair.
Based on the recorded confession in my penthouse, Debbie Jo was officially charged with homicide by insulin overdose in the death of her sister-in-law Bridget Wilson.
She thought with Bridget out of the way, she would then just have to remove her brother and she could get access to all the life insurance without having to share any of it.
Initially, it wasn’t a leap to assume Bridget drank herself to death.
If there had been any other explanation for the bruise and injection site on the back of her neck and she hadn’t confessed it on video, I suspect Debbie Jo likely would have gotten away with murder.
Debbie Jo is also facing potential federal charges for her role in crimes committed against Tinsley.
She is facing a life sentence without parole for Bridget’s murder, and due to her unregistered firearm that was present at Tinsley’s attempted kidnapping, she is facing twenty to sixty years in state prison.
Debbie Jo insists she was not involved in Roman’s murder, but the feds are considering every angle and are being tight-lipped until Debbie Jo’s trial in Tennessee is resolved.
Florida has also filed charges against Rick in the death of Michael Sinclair, but without physical evidence, that one will be trickier for them to prove.
However, the video confession will come in handy whenever that day comes.
Rick needs to get through a lengthy federal case first for the charges related to the crash and deaths of Roman and Fiona, as well as crimes against Tinsley, before Florida gets their turn.
Wells and Tinsley don’t want to become obsessed with Rick and Debbie Jo though, so Wells has already tasked Daphne to find and hire a new associate whose sole job will be tracking and updating them when necessary in all things related to the legal proceedings involving the tangled web of crime that Rick Wilson and his sister wove over the years.
If Tinsley gets swallowed up by the court cases, then in a way, Rick is still controlling her and still wins, and none of us are willing to allow that as an option—especially Tinsley herself.
She’s free from him and I will do everything I can to make sure it stays like that for good.