Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
A numbing drizzle washed over the town, thick clouds building on the horizon, promising more rain. The air still felt charged, the hairs on Tierney’s arms standing up as she slipped out of Buck’s pickup and climbed the stairs to Dalton’s loft.
More fog had rolled in after the thunderstorm had passed, cloaking the area in a thick, gray mist. The ocean surged against the pier, a writhing black mass amidst the haze, the occasional whitecap appearing within the shadows.
Dalton held open the door, waving her and Buck inside before shutting out the night behind him. The clock edged toward two, the heavy silence weighing down the air until simply breathing took most of her effort.
She glanced at the new window. If she hadn’t been involved in the ambush, she wouldn’t have guessed half a dozen men had trashed the place a week ago. The walls had been patched, and everything had been put back in its place.
Dalton motioned to one of the doors off to her left. “You and Buck can take that room. Not that you have to sleep there, but there’s an ensuite. Might feel more secure while you get washed up. I’ve got the door, so take as long as you both need. Nothing’s getting in tonight.”
Buck raked his hand through his hair, wincing a bit when it must have pulled on the laceration Chase had fixed. “Dalton—”
Dalton cut him off. “Not an argument you’re gonna win, buddy, so don’t even try. It’s not like I’d really sleep anyway.”
Buck sighed, looking over at her. “I’ll make hot chocolate while you rinse off.”
She merely nodded, walking into the bedroom then into the bathroom.
It looked a lot like Bodie’s suite only more cozy coastal than urban loft.
The water sounded in the background as she peeled off her clothes, noting the multiple impacts she’d taken on her vest as she glanced in the mirror.
Skin mottled with purple welts, a collection of scratches along her arms and legs, plus the cut on her cheek Rowan had glued and taped — she looked battered and bruised, but alive.
She jumped under the spray, watched the mud and blood circle down the drain, as Pike’s taunts replayed in her head. How it might not be over.
That, despite everything, she might still have a price on her head.
Snick-clink.
She closed her eyes. They were dead. She’d won.
Except it didn’t feel like victory. She hadn’t envisioned that revenge would play out the way it had.
This… This was just another form of prison without the concrete walls and barred doors.
She pressed her hands against the tile, used the smooth, hard surface to ground herself. Tears joined the water, but she didn’t have the strength to care.
It took a while to move beyond the shower — yank on some yoga pants and one of Buck’s hoodies. Rowan had given her more than a few options, but she liked the way his sweatshirt surrounded her, how it smelled like citrus and cottonwood with a hint of pine.
That for a moment, enveloped in his scent, she could breathe.
A knock jolted her out of her thoughts as the door inched open, the hinges creaking, as a wedge of brighter light lit the floor. Buck slipped inside, twin mugs in his hand, smelling of woodsy spice and coconut shampoo, his hair still damp from showering in Dalton’s bathroom.
Buck handed her a cup, leaning against a large dresser as he sipped at his, looking sexy and strong, and so damn handsome it made her chest hurt. She must have made some kind of noise because he snapped his gaze to her, frowning as he shook his head.
He placed his cup on the side table. “Did Rowan look at your ribs?”
Tierney pursed her lips. “I’m fine.”
“That’s a no.” He pointed to her shoulder. “The hoodie’s so big on you, I can see the bruising peeking out of the neckline from that one round from here. What about all those cuts? Did you put antiseptic on them?”
“They’re just scrapes. And I cleaned them in the shower.”
“And that’s another no.”
“You should talk. You’re more messed up than I am.”
“And I had Chase rip me a new one while he poured alcohol on the wounds to, and I quote, ‘help me make better choices, next time’.” He walked over to a bag she hadn’t realized he’d placed inside the door, removed an oversized tee. “Put this on. At least I can treat whatever’s not covered.”
She took it, the same aroma lifting off the fabric. “Buck, I’m—”
“Stubborn. I know. And this isn’t a fight I’m going to back down on.”
She huffed, motioning for him to turn around as she stripped everything off, then tugged his tee over her head, the hem landing mid-thigh against her bare legs. “You can turn around.”
He glanced back, taking her in with a sweeping gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching into a hint of a smile before he headed for the bathroom, emerging with a first aid kit.
He gestured to the bed, spreading the kit out beside her as he went to one knee, tsking.
“Christ, you practically shredded your legs.”
She laughed. “Are you always this dramatic? It’s nothing.”
He tore open some antiseptic wipes, looked at her as he cleaned one of the lines. “The way you’re wincing suggests differently.”
“I didn’t say they didn’t sting, but it’s not like I got shot.” She arched a brow. “Or stabbed, like someone else.”
“I didn’t get stabbed, it was a slice.”
“From a knife, which is different from getting stabbed, how, exactly?”
“It’s not a hole.”
She snorted. “And did Chase agree with your definition?”
Buck smiled, and her heart kicked over. “He did not.”
He dabbed at more cuts layered along her arm, the room falling into a heavy silence for a while before he exhaled, looked at her. “Do you want to talk about Pike?”
She glanced out the window, at the rain still hitting the glass, the fog distorting the coastline. “He’s dead. Not much else to say.”
“Except where he didn’t tell you who betrayed you.”
She swallowed, doing her best not to cough. “I already knew someone sold out my team.”
“You thought you did. But it was secondhand knowledge. Words whispered through the floorboards. This…” He broke eye contact for a moment. “He served it up, then tore it away.”
She shrugged, tears she wouldn’t shed burning her eyes. “I’m sure Sloane will uncover something useful eventually.”
“Oh, we’re gonna get the son of a bitch.
That’s a promise.” He stopped cleaning one of the wounds, shifted in close.
“But that doesn’t help with all the uncertainty bouncing around inside your head, right now.
He put doubts in there. Implied you can’t trust us.
I need you to know that you can. That there isn’t a line I won’t cross, a war I won’t wage for you.
And I’m not the only one who feels that way. ”
She froze.
He meant every word. Not that it surprised her, but hearing it voiced aloud as if it was normal? Something people did without hesitating…
Warmth spread through her chest, those voices fading into the sound of her pulse pounding in her head, the press of his hand on her thigh. She reached for him, trailing her thumb along his jaw, loving the way the stubble caught on her skin. “Why are you doing this?”
He frowned, brows furrowing. “Cleaning your wounds? Because someone has to, and I know for a fact you won’t.”
“Why are you hellbent on being my champion? It’s not like I’ve got anything to offer you that isn’t broken.”
He scrunched up his nose, shaking his head as if he thought she was crazy.
“Nothing to offer?” He raked his fingers through her hair, tracing her scalp.
“Did you hit your head? Do you have a concussion? Because you’re highly intelligent, see tracks as if they’re lines on the damn ground, and you’re loyal to a fault.
” He pressed his hand over hers. “Sweetheart, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.
The reason I keep the darkness at bay. If I hadn’t stumbled upon you that day in the woods…
Recognized the look in your eyes. Knew that you saw ghosts too…
” He closed his eyes, breathed. “I’d still be lost. And who the hell says you’re broken? ”
“I think it’s pretty obvious…”
“Why? Because you can’t shove all your trauma down, every second of every day?
Because, god forbid, you have to cry every once in a while?
Jesus, Tier, I’m still living in a fucking RV.
The one I used to hide in because I swore the shadows were coming for me.
The one I can’t quite give up because there’s a part of me that needs that security in case I wake up one day and the voices are back. ”
He shook his head. “If we’re talking about being broken, then you’d better get in line, because I’m cracked in places I don’t think I can ever put back together.
Hell, I can’t sit in a car for more than five minutes unless I’m driving.
” He stood, paced to the other side of the room then back.
“If anyone’s lacking something to offer, you’re looking at him. ”
She rose, stomach flip-flopping, her hands shaking as she took the two steps separating them and palmed his cheek.
“You aren’t broken, and you’re the only reason I’m still standing.
” She traced her thumb along his chin. “I don’t know if I can ever stop the voices.
If I can hear thunder and not feel the chill of that cell to my bones. But you make me want to try.”
Buck clenched his jaw. Chest heaving, his increased breath rasped through the room.
He fisted his hands at his side, the blue in his eyes darkening to that lethal mix of navy and steel gray before he stepped into her, removing any hint of space.
He lifted one hand, holding it a few inches from her face before finally smoothing it along her cheek, gathering a handful of hair in his fingers.