Chapter 25
KINSLEY
“Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” The man in front of me isn’t dressed like a cop—ex-military if I had to guess. He’d commandeered a box for me to sit on after he took Zander to the floor with surprising ease.
I was thankful.
But it also kind of pissed me off considering I’d been fighting like hell and this guy had barely broken a sweat.
“Kinsley Dane.”
He nods, murmuring something into his earpiece that’s only noticeable because I’m watching him.
Uniformed officers peel Zander off the floor and push him out the back door, his eyes dark and menacing as he spits a mouthful of blood on the floor in front of me. The officer closest to me adjusts his hold on Zander, making him grunt as he accidentally elbows my former bodyguard in the gut.
My lips tip up on one side as I glance at the man next to me and he winks. “We’re gonna get you out of here as soon as possible, Miss Dane.”
“Kinsley, please,” I correct, because all I can hear is the menacing way Zander said it when he finally showed me the monster he really is.
“Kinsley.” He nods and then pauses before looking at the back door. “Send him in.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Royce breathes out as he barrels in, closing the distance between us in three strides before dropping to his knees in front of me.
“I want to go home,” I tell him, and he nods, his hands so much gentler than his tone as he pushes my hair back from my face.
“I know,” he says, pulling his sweatshirt over his head and handing it to me, then helping me put it on without flashing anyone as the torn fabric of my dress falls over my breast.
“Royce,” I whisper, but he shakes his head and presses the sweetest kiss to my lips.
“We have a lot to say but not here, okay?”
“Looks like you’re Superman after all,” I tease, nodding at the shirt I’d gotten him for Christmas. It was silly, but I can’t think of anything more perfect for this moment.
“I didn’t need a shirt to get me here, Coach.”
“Royce, the ambulance is here,” the man behind us says, and Royce nods.
“The wing is locked down?”
“Yes, your uncle has it all taken care of.”
Royce nods as my eyes widen.
“A lot to talk about,” he says with a shy smile. “But right now, I need to get you checked out,”—Royce swallows hard—“make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs before standing and patting the pockets of his jeans. “Can someone get my car up to the hospital? I’m gonna ride with her.”
The officer closest to us snorts but nods as Royce rattles off the plate number. “Tell your uncle he owes me.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Royce says firmly, the other man nodding and reaching forward to shake his hand. Royce does the same with some of the other men in the hall before leaning down and pressing a kiss to my already bruised forehead. “Let me take care of you.”
And he does, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me out the back door to the waiting ambulance.
And he doesn’t leave me.
Never again.