Chapter 37 #2
I push Chance back until we bump into the wall, not wanting her to even get close to him. He cries out when he hits the hard surface, but I can’t think about that right now. I need to keep him safe.
But before she can get within a few feet of us, Thorne is there, grabbing her wrist and turning her around to face him. Then he turns the blade and buries it in her gut. Once, twice, three times until Barb falls to her knees.
Getting close to her face, he snarls, “You don’t fuck with what’s mine.” Then he pulls the blade out and buries it in her chest, twisting it in deep.
When she drops to the floor, struggling to breathe, she gazes up at me, regret shining in her eyes before she exhales harshly and closes her eyes. Her body goes limp and her chest no longer rises and falls.
Our heavy breathing fills the air as I continue to stare at Barb.
I can’t believe she’s dead. Can’t believe she was stalking me.
Can’t believe she wanted us to be together, even though I told her we couldn’t.
I wish I’d seen that she was like this. I could have told the dean, could have gone to the authorities so she could have gotten some help.
Now she’s dead.
Slowly, I glance up at Thorne, catching the snarl on his face as he looks down at her. He’s pissed, even though he took care of her. I’m sure if he could, he’d bring her back to kill her again for putting me through all this bullshit.
Oh fuck, Thorne killed someone. Thorne killed a professor. Thorne committed murder.
He takes a cautious step toward us, holding up his bloody hand. When he sees the remnants of his crime, he wipes it clean on his shirt. “Are you two okay?”
I swallow thickly over and over until my stomach rebels, and I turn to the side and vomit. Strong hands hold me up as I purge my belly. A different hand pushes my hair back, keeping it out of my face.
When my stomach is empty, I lean against the wall, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “She was going to kill me,” I whisper, tears tracking my cheeks. “She…she tried to kill me.”
“She can’t hurt you anymore,” Thorne says.
“We need to call the cops,” Chance mutters, holding me tight to his chest.
“No cops,” Thorne says, his eyes shuttering as he takes a step back. “I’ll take care of it.”
“What?” Chance asks incredulously. “Why not? She tried to kill Warren. It was self-defense!”
Thorne looks almost sad as he flicks his gaze between the two of us.
“It’ll put me and my family in danger if the cops knew I killed her.
I’ll explain later. For now, go pack a bag and go to my place.
” When we don’t move, he makes an exasperated sound.
“Now. I need to take care of this.” With a pleading look, he says, “Trust me.”
I look at Thorne as if he’s a stranger, wondering who this man is that will take care of a woman he’d killed.
Pulling me tighter against his chest, Chance says, “Come on, Warren. We’ll…we’ll trust you. But we need answers.”
“I’ll give them to you, I swear. But you have to go.”
I move as if through a haze, nothing penetrating but a few words from Thorne, like cleaners and murder. I shudder as I listen to him talk, devoid of emotion. He’s not like that with me and Chance. He’s warm and almost loving. He takes care of us.
That’s what he just did, right? He saved me and Chance from an unhinged woman that wanted to kill us.
I’m still in the fog when we leave the house and don’t come back to myself until Chance is helping me out of the car. I feel like shit that he drove with his arm still in a sling, but I can’t focus.
We sit on the living room couch, Chance’s head resting in my lap.
“Are you in pain?” I ask, remembering why I went home in the first place.
“Yeah, but I’ll take my meds when Thorne comes home.”
Almost as if Chance’s words conjured him up, Thorne pushes inside, wearing a clean shirt. I smile a little when I see that it’s Chance’s.
He looks at us uneasily before sitting on the floor in front of the couch. He stares for a moment, as if memorizing our faces.
Then he says, “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”
“Do you kill people all the time?” Chance blurts out. “That didn’t look like your first time.”
Thorne shakes his head slowly. “It wasn’t. It’s…it’s what I do.”
“You kill people for a living?” I ask incredulously.
“Not for a living, no.” He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “It’s a long story. One I can’t get into because I have to leave. But I’ll tell you as much as I can before I go.”
I dip my chin and Chance nods as well.
“When I was young, I met a man. He’s a good guy, but got down when killers, rapists, traffickers, the scum of the fucking earth would walk free after horrible crimes.
Either because of a technicality or because they had a damn good defense that cast reasonable doubt.
Either way, he didn’t like that shit. So, he recruited me and my brothers to help put a stop to it, at least in our parts of the world. ”
“So you’re a vigilante?” Chance asks, and I hear the awe lacing his tone.
A smile tips up one side of Thorne’s lips. “You could say that. I kill people that deserve it.” He meets my gaze, his stare intense. “I told you that the person that was stalking you would die. I keep my fucking promises.”
That should not be hot. He’s a murderer. I watched him kill someone.
But he did it to protect me, to save me from someone trying to hurt me.
How could I not find that shit sexy as fuck?
When Chance nor I say anything, Thorne folds his lips in and rises fluidly from the floor. “I have to go away for a few days.”
“Why?” I ask.
“We’re breaking a trafficking ring. My boss found two of them. Two of the last three. We have to go…arrange for their funerals.”
That shouldn’t be funny, but a smile threatens to bloom across my face.
“A trafficking ring?” Chance asks, struggling to sit up. “Like they kidnap girls?”
“Girls and boys,” Thorne says, disgusted. “We can’t stop them all, but we’re almost done with this one. After that…I shouldn’t be needed as much. But this is personal to me.”
“Why?” I ask again.
Thorne stares at us for a few beats, a look of…desperation on his face. Like he wants to tell us what happened but can’t bring himself to. “Later. I need to leave.”
He rushes out of the room, leaving us to think about what he just said.
It’s a lot, knowing he’s a killer and plans to keep killing. But it’s in service to those that can’t do it themselves. He’s saving people, protecting them. How could I not admire that?
Even if it’s scary as fuck.
When he comes back in the living room, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, he stares at us, worrying his lip ring. “Please don’t tell the cops what we do. If you have to, don’t bring my brothers into it. What you saw was on me.”
“We won’t,” I say earnestly. “I swear it.”
Thorne’s eyes flick to Chance’s and he nods. “I won’t tell. You have my word.”
He lets out a deep exhale, then walks over to us slowly, like he’ll scare us. “I’ll be back in a few days. Stay here. I’ll give you instructions on what to say about Cooke when I talk to my dad.” Thorne looks shocked that those words left his lips.
“Okay,” I whisper and tip my head up, offering him my lips. “Be safe.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, blowing out a shaky breath before he bends to kiss me. “I will.”
“Go kill some trafficking assholes,” Chance says with a trace of humor and it makes Thorne’s eyes light up.
“I will. I…I love you two.” Then he breezes out of the house before we can reply.