Chapter 6
GRIZZ
Kira’s presence looms large across our property, even though she’s scarcely left one of the smallest spaces in the main building.
I’ve been all around the perimeter over the past few days, checking cameras and fences, clearing snow, and securing outbuildings. She’s on my mind wherever I go.
Most of the snow has melted, but more is on the way, so there’s plenty to do, but my top priority right now is dinner.
I’m checking the pantry inventory when the bathroom door clicks closed. Atlas is down in ops, and Viper has been holed up since 0930 in the dark closet he calls his workspace, so Kira must be awake.
I happen, on purpose, to pass by as she’s returning to her room. “How’re you doing, Kira?”
“Oh! Hi, Boyd … I’m okay.” There’s more energy in her voice than I’ve heard so far, and she appears solid on her feet. “Where can I take a shower?”
“There’s one downstairs. I’ll take you.”
She retrieves some clothing items from her room, which I take from her when she joins me at the top of the stairs.
“You good?” I ask.
She nods but sways when she sets a foot onto the first step. I reach out before I think, grasping her elbow.
“I’m okay. Tired. And sore.”
I swallow a curse. I’ve seen the bruises. Dark fingerprints on her arms, scraped knuckles, cuts on her cheek.
And the wounds on her hands. The kind you get when you swing at someone with everything you have.
She fought back.
Most victims freeze up. I used to. Mean kids at school. Foster home shit. Bullies who want to take on someone bigger to prove something. You learn to duck, or disappear. I didn’t start fighting back until much later.
But this woman fought back, even while pregnant. That tells me everything I need to know about her.
“Take your time.” I keep a hand on her arm.
She grips the railing and proceeds with care, her jaw set with determination. When I brought food into her room, I sometimes saw that expression on her face while she was sleeping, like she was bracing herself for something she wasn’t going to let happen again.
I understand that look, and I’ve seen it on kids smaller than me who didn’t stand a chance against bullies.
But Kira’s not helpless, and she’s not broken. She may be shaky, but she’s still standing.
At the bottom of the stairs, I lead her down the hall to the full bath, where I flick on the light and fan.
“There are clean towels and washcloths on the shelf. Soap and shampoo are in the stall.” I’m pleased to remember there’s a grab bar in there, too, that Atlas installed after I tore my shoulder a couple of years back. “Anything else you need?”
“Um … what should I do about my bandages?” She holds out her hand as an example, and I know there are others elsewhere on her body. “Should I take them off?”
I should’ve already thought of that. “I can wrap them to keep them dry.”
She hesitates. “You wouldn’t mind?”
Mind? What I mind is that she needed these bandages in the first place. I mind like hell that someone put their hands on her.
“I’ve got it. Have a seat.” Atlas keeps the whole place stocked like we’re preparing for war, so there’s waterproof wrap in the cabinet. I kneel in front of her, and she holds out one hand.
She trusts me, even when that can’t be easy.
My own hands aren’t as steady as usual, but I wrap hers as carefully as I can.
“You fought back.” I brush my thumb over the edge of the tape on one of her knuckles. Delicate, but strong. “Someone grabbed you, but you didn’t freeze.”
Her spine straightens, and her bright blue eyes look determined. “I needed to protect the baby.”
A surge of anger hits me so hard I can taste its bitterness. I want the coward who did this to her to materialize right now, so I can make them disappear. Permanently.
Pausing before working on the wound on her shoulder, I look down at the floor and take a deep breath. Behind my anger at the faceless asshole, I’m filled with respect for the beautiful woman in front of me.
I want to guard her the way I never could the other kids in the foster homes.
“You were brave,” I tell her.
She meets my eyes, and the tightness in her expression melts away. When I finish covering her bandages, her eyes are soft. “Thank you, Grizz.”
Not Boyd. Not sir. She called me Grizz.
My chest heats as I clear my throat and step back. “I’ll be right outside the door. Yell if you get dizzy, okay?”
She smiles faintly. “Okay.”
I give her privacy, but station myself on the wall across from the bathroom door, arms crossed, alert for any sounds that might signal trouble.
This strong woman doesn’t need rescuing, but I’m standing between her and anything that might come for her, and that’s where I intend to stay.