Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Romeo
“No,” Fiona had whispered against my chest. “He would have if you hadn’t been here.”
I heard her voice over the roar of my bike, over the wind cutting across my face, over every fucking thought I tried to put between myself and the image burned into my head.
Her back against that brick wall. Webb’s hand on her.
The terror in her eyes when I turned into the parking lot.
The way her entire body shook once I got my arms around her and she finally understood she didn’t have to keep fighting.
He would have if you hadn’t been here.
I had been there because I wanted to surprise her.
That was the part twisting through my gut as I left Granny’s house behind.
I hadn’t known Fiona needed me. There hadn’t been some warning from fifteen hundred miles away or some instinct that told me to haul ass to Virginia before something happened.
I’d gotten on my bike because my girl told me she missed me, and after nearly a fucking year of taking things slow, the temptation to see her face when I showed up unexpectedly had finally won.
If I’d stopped for gas one more time, Webb would have had another five minutes.
If I’d hit traffic outside Roanoke, he would have had twenty.
If I’d decided to wait until morning to surprise her, Fiona would have...
My hands tightened around the grips until my knuckles ached beneath my gloves.
All these months, I’d been so fucking careful with her.
So damn impressed with my own restraint.
Fiona was young, so I gave her time. She was finishing school, so I stayed the hell out of the way.
She had a life in Virginia and family who loved her, so I convinced myself she was safer there than she would be caught up in mine.
I let her decide how quickly we moved because the last thing I ever wanted was for her to look back and wonder if I’d pushed her into something before she was ready.
Real noble shit.
Except patience hadn’t been standing behind that shop tonight.
Marcus Webb had.
And by fucking luck, I made it in time.
He would have if you hadn’t been here.
Gator popped into my head out of nowhere and pissed me off almost as much as everything else.
I’d given my cousin endless shit over the way he handled Devlyn, because Gator had never been burdened with the kind of restraint sane men were supposed to possess.
Once that bastard decided she belonged in his life, he stopped asking the universe for permission.
Protecting her became the answer to every question, and anybody who didn’t like his methods could take it up with a very large, very unreasonable Cajun.
I’d spent years thinking he was half fucking crazy.
Maybe I’d been the stupid one.
I should have fucking taken her.
Not against her will. I’d cut off my own hand before I forced Fiona into anything she didn’t choose.
But I should have stopped pretending I needed to stand fifteen hundred miles away while she decided whether she wanted me.
She did want me. She’d been showing me that for months.
She kissed me first. She called me when she was hurting.
She let me into parts of herself she kept hidden from almost everyone else, and two nights ago she told me she wished I were there.
Still, I’d gone slow.
So fucking slow a man I’d already warned had gotten close enough to put his hands on her again.
I made it outside Rosewood before pulling off the road and killing the engine. The sudden quiet only made Fiona’s voice louder in my head, so I yanked my phone out and called Nav.
He answered with an irritated, “What?”
“Need you to find Marcus Webb.”
There was a pause long enough to tell me he wasn’t touching a keyboard yet. “Are you in fucking Virginia again?”
“For fuck’s sake, Nav.”
“That’s a yes.”
“I didn’t call to discuss my travel plans.”
“No, apparently you prefer the surprise method. Where the fuck are you?”
“Rosewood.”
Another pause. “Romeo.”
My patience, which was already hanging by a shredded fucking thread, finally snapped. “I need Webb, Nav. Not a goddamn lecture about how many state lines I crossed without telling you. Pull the street cameras around Fiona’s work and find the motherfucker.”
That got him moving. I heard keys beneath his voice when he finally asked, “Why am I looking for Webb again? Thought you handled that asshole.”
“So did I.”
The keyboard stopped. Nav knew me too fucking well to miss what was sitting underneath those three words.
“What happened?”
I looked across the dark road and saw brick instead of trees. Fiona’s face instead of shadows. My stomach went hard all over again.
“He went after her.”
Nav was quiet for half a heartbeat before the keyboard started again, faster this time. “How bad?”
“He would’ve raped her if I hadn’t pulled in.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Find him.”
“I’m looking.” Nav’s voice changed as he worked, the irritation gone now, replaced by the clipped concentration that made him worth every aggravating thing about him. “Give me the exact location.”
“Sugar’s Creamery. Rear lot. The bastard took off on foot.
” I closed my eyes. “He headed east between the buildings. Anything else, or can you use the expensive shit in front of you now?” I knew my voice was sharp, agitated.
I didn’t fucking care. Nav muttered something about ungrateful Cajun assholes before telling me to stay off the phone and hanging up.
I paced beside the bike while he worked, too full of rage to stand still and too fucking focused to ride without a destination.
Every time my mind tried to wander, it went straight back to Granny’s porch and Fiona clutching my cut with both hands because she didn’t want me to leave.
Walking away from her had taken more out of me than beating Webb the first time ever had.
She’d needed me, and every instinct I possessed had screamed at me to take her inside, lock the fucking door, and spend the rest of the night with her wrapped around me where nothing could reach her.
But Webb was still out there.
I had left him breathing once.
That mistake belonged to me.
My phone rang seventeen minutes later.
“You owe me,” Nav said before I could speak.
“You found him?”
“Yeah, asshole, I found him.”
A cold, ugly satisfaction settled through me. “Where?”
“I picked him up on a city camera about three blocks from the shop. He cut behind businesses until he reached the south side, then got into his own car near a tire place. Apparently, he thought parking away from Fiona’s work made him fucking clever.”
“Where’d he go?”
“Home.” Nav continued talking. “You gonna tell me what you’re planning?”
“No.”
“Figured.”
“I’ll call you later.”
“Romeo, if you’re about to do something spectacularly fucking stupid...”
“I’m already in Virginia. According to you, that qualifies.”
“Fuck you.”
“Love you too, Cher.”
I ended the call before he could answer and started my bike.
I knew exactly where that motherfucker lived.
Twenty-two minutes was plenty of time to remember the first time I’d found him.
I’d put him against a wall, beat enough sense into him that I thought there couldn’t possibly be room left for confusion, and explained exactly what would happen if he went near Fiona again.
I had believed him when fear finally replaced arrogance in his eyes.
More accurately, I’d believed fear would last.
It hadn’t.
That was another mistake I wouldn’t repeat.
I sat on my bike for several seconds after shutting it down, staring at the ordinary little house and thinking about how many times I’d told myself Fiona was protected because Rosewood was full of people who loved her.
Georgie and Frank were nearby. The Sons of Hell were nearby.
Granny watched over her like the woman had personally been appointed by God to keep Fiona alive through sheer fucking stubbornness.
None of them had been behind the shop.
Neither had I until the last second.
No one could protect her if they weren’t there.
I got off the bike and felt the weight of my Bowie knife at my side.
My daddy had put a knife in my hand long before most people thought a boy should have one, and every Cajun man I grew up around seemed to have an opinion about blades. How to sharpen them. How to hold them. How to respect what they could do. Guns were efficient. Guns gave distance.
I didn’t want distance from Marcus Webb.
I wanted him to understand exactly who had come through his door and why.
He opened it after my second knock. Recognition wiped the irritation off his face so fast I almost smiled.
Almost.
“What the fuck?”
He tried to slam the door.
I shoved through it hard enough to send him stumbling backward, then kicked it closed behind me. Whatever he saw in my face made him retreat another step before I ever touched him. That pleased something ugly inside me, though not nearly enough.
Webb started talking immediately. Men like him always did when the balance changed. He demanded to know what I was doing there, told me I was fucking crazy, threatened cops and lawsuits and every other shield cowards remembered once they were the ones cornered.
I barely heard him.
All I could hear was Fiona.
He would have if you hadn’t been here.
The Bowie came out of its sheath.
Webb’s eyes dropped to the blade, and his mouth finally stopped moving.
I remembered Fiona’s wrist trapped against the brick.
I grabbed his and held it against the wall as I drove the knife into it.
He screamed as I yanked it free, then tried to get away, but I followed him down the narrow space between the couch and the wall, the fury I’d been carrying since pulling into that driveway finally given somewhere to go.
He would have if you hadn’t been here.
I struck again.