Chapter 8 Gage
Gage
Glass is shattering everywhere; bullets are whizzing past my head. I can’t get my Glock out fast enough before the cars surround us.
“GET DOWN!” I yell at Les.
I hear her whimper, and I jerk up to check on her on instinct. I hear the rat tat tat tat of the guns, and the windshield falls in. I look at the masked face when I feel the bullet tear through my shoulder.
“Shit,” I grunt.
“Gage?” Les asks, her voice shaky.
Before I can duck the next one, I’m slammed back in the seat. Unbearable pain rips through my chest.
“Gage!”
I jerk up in the bed, covered in sweat, wildly looking around.
“Gage. It’s just a nightmare,” Leo whispers from my side, pulling me to lie back down.
Every night. Every fucking night since I woke up from being sedated, I’ve had the same dream. The dream that reminds me I couldn’t protect Les the way I promised I always would.
She’s been back for two weeks, and between not sleeping, not eating, constant panic attacks, and the unknown of where Jay is, she walks around like a zombie.
She still hasn’t told us everything that happened, but we knew.
The guys filled me in on that video footage, and there is no doubt that the fucker touched her without her permission, and I’m going to rip him limb from fucking limb.
Everyone she knows has popped in to visit.
We let them stay until we see it taking a toll on her, then we kick them the hell out.
The only one who never listens is Marcella.
She just shoos Les to bed and cooks any comfort food she can think of.
Our fridge is so full right now that Micah never has to cook.
“Are you okay?” Leo asks, and I bite back a retort.
He’s stayed by my side this whole time, our relationship evolving, but I can’t stop snapping at him for constantly hovering. I know why he does it, but I need to be able to breathe.
“I need to check on Les,” I say in answer.
“Ryder and Holden are with her. She’s fine.”
We take turns sleeping with her at night; sometimes, two of us do because none of us can be away from her long.
But that doesn’t stop her from waking up in the middle of the night, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Every scream that rips out of her because of what happened makes me see red.
I’ve never been this fucking angry in my life.
The worst part is that we have no idea how to make it better.
She doesn’t blame us for not finding her in time, saying she realizes she just fell off the map. I do blame myself, though; we all do.
“I don’t care,” I say, flipping the sheet off. “I need to see her.”
I do this every time it isn’t me in there with her. I need to see her with my own eyes.
“Okay,” Leo says quietly.
I feel like shit for always biting his head off, but I can’t control the anger coursing through me, and I’m taking it out on the wrong people. I round to his side of the bed and kiss his lips. “I’ll be back.”
He looks like he wants to say something but just nods his head. I know he’s sick of my mood swings, and it’s just a matter of time before he’s done with me. Just like everyone always is.
I quietly make my way to Les’ door and crack it open. She’s sitting in the middle of the bed with Ryder and Holden hovering around her. Her head snaps to the sound of the door, and her face falls, tears rolling down her cheeks when she sees me.
“Pretty girl,” I choke out. Fuck. I hate seeing her like this.
“Come here, man,” Ryder says, sliding off the bed. I take his place and pull her to my chest; she clutches me close, tears leaking down my chest.
Holden kisses the top of her head, closing his eyes. When he opens them, there’s so much pain in them that it takes my breath away.
None of us know how to deal with what happened. We lost her, and we thought she was gone for good. Now that we know what it’s like to be without her, we’ll stop at nothing to make sure we never are again.
After one last kiss to the top of her head, Holden slides off the bed, following Ryder from the room. They usually stay when I come in, and I’ll lay wherever there’s room just to hear her soft breathing. So, they must feel how much I need to be alone with her.
I recline us back on the bed with her still clutched to my chest. She runs her finger down the scar between my pecs, just like she does every time she sees it.
Ryder accidentally saw the scars on her, including that piece of shit carving his name into her skin. She was in the shower and started screaming; he ran up without hesitation. He found her in the corner of the bathtub full-blown panic attack, and scooped her out; that’s when he saw them.
We lay there wrapped in each other’s arms, and I feel my eyelids droop, signaling sleep will come again.
“He didn’t rape me. He said I had to work for it.
But he touched me,” Les whispers brokenly, and my eyes snap back open.
I fucking knew it. I grit my teeth to keep from exploding.
I pull her closer instead, hoping she’s finally ready to talk.
“Every night,” she sobs, “telling me I was his. The whole time Zane was on the other side of the curtain.”
Holy shit. I didn’t expect her to say that. Zane had to listen to everything?
“I couldn’t fight,” she says. “I couldn’t do anything.
I just shut down. I stopped talking, even to Zane.
I hid in a place in my head where I saw my guy’s faces, except yours.
I never saw yours,” she finishes, starting to cry again.
I hate feeling so useless when it comes to her.
Les has always been tough, a take-no-shit kind of person, but something like this is something even Les will have to take time to get over.
We’ll also be here every step of the way, making sure she’s never alone in this.
“You did fight,” I tell her, rubbing her back. “You got out.”
“He called me pretty girl,” she says. “I knew then I would get away or die trying.”
I know what happened after that from what the guys saw in the footage. They said she kicked his ass with her arms tied to the bed. Then Zane snapped that guard’s neck, and the rest is history.
“You’re no one’s pretty girl but mine,” I growl before I can stop myself.
“And I always will be,” she says. She bends down and places a tender kiss on my scar before laying one on my lips.
I try to keep it PG, but she adds more pressure; I open up for her immediately.
It has been too long since I tasted her lips, and I’m not passing it up.
She slides her body on top of mine, and I freeze.
“Les,” I say hoarsely. I don’t want her to think this is all I want. I just wanted to see her, hold her.
“Make it go away,” she whispers against my lips. “Make me forget.”
“Les, I…”
“Please.”
Fuck. Les hasn’t been intimate with us since we got her back, and we understood. Completely. We were just happy she still allowed us to touch her at all.
I grab her face in my hands and search her eyes. They are wide open and focused on me, with not an ounce of fear. “Anything happens you don’t want, or you get scared. Tell me.”
“I will.”
I pull her face back to mine and slant my mouth over hers. She sighs at the contact, opening her mouth for me to slide my tongue against hers.
Kissing her feels like coming home.
She sinks further into the kiss, letting me know she’s okay. I roll us, so we’re on our sides, and I slide my fingers into her silky black hair, pulling her closer.
I kiss her until her hips start shifting to rub against my hard cock.
Sliding my hand to the hem of her shirt, ready to pull it off, she grabs my wrist. I pull my lips away to look into her eyes.
“Leave it on,” she says softly, and I try not to let my emotions show on my face.
She’s worn baggy clothes since she got home and never wears anything that will allow a peek of those scars to show.
Ryder said she’s covered in them, and some are still healing. I will gut this motherfucker.
I swallow the anger to savor this moment with her. “Okay, Pretty girl,” I reply, kissing her lips again. I don’t care how slow she wants to go; she’s finally in my arms again.
Our hands are sliding all over each other, re-memorizing each other’s bodies. I can’t stop the groan when her hand slides over my dick through my boxers.
“I missed that sound,” she says, jerking her lips from mine, massaging harder.
“Fuck, Pretty girl,” I groan again.
Between the two of us, we get her panties and my boxers off, her shirt still firmly in place.
I pull her leg over my hip, sliding my hand between her thighs.
I circle her clit gently, and her hips buck.
Rubbing her clit in slow circles, her eyes locked on mine, both breathing heavily.
Dipping my fingers into her pussy, I drag her wetness to her clit, adding more pressure.
“Oh,” she breathes, rotating her hips in time with my fingers. “Gage.”
I lean down and suck her nipple through her thin t-shirt, knowing how sensitive her nipples are. Her breathing gets erratic, and I glance into her eyes, her nipple still in my mouth. Her eyes are latched onto my face, her eyelids starting to flutter.
I let her nipple go. “Come for me, Pretty girl. I want to make sure you’re ready for me.”
Her eyes immediately fill with tears, and I hesitate. “Please don’t stop,” she begs. “Please.” I can tell she’s waging some war within herself. She doesn’t look afraid of anything happening, so I take her at her word.
Circling her clit fast, I watch her face closely for discomfort; I pinch lightly when I don’t find any.
“Gage,” she moans loudly, shattering for me. Damn. I missed that. I missed everything about her. The way she feels. The way she smells. The way she tastes. The way she sounds. Everything.